Saturday, March 22, 2014. A morning like any other; I got up, made coffee, threw in a dip, and sat down for some early morning gaming before the family got up. For whatever reason, instead of opening my computer game I found myself staring at a web browser, and was a little surprised to see the words "quit chewing" emerging in the search bar. What the hell was this? Did I really want to quit? Maybe I did, so I clicked on the first thing that looked promising. Killthecan.org had to be a winner, it doesn't get any more straight-forward than that does it? So I browse the site for a while, read a few articles, and start feeling the inside of my cheek. I start remembering that dental work that messed up my mouth and suddenly realize it didn't. My teeth are just horribly misaligned from dipping three-finger pinches for 9 years. Immediately after this I read some articles written about the untimely ending of a few individuals, and suddenly my dip isn't tasting so good anymore. I quickly launch it into the nearest bottle and use an entire glass of water to wash my mouth out. By this time everyone is awake and in the area, yet no one seems to notice the micro-cataclysm that is happening at my desk. At 8 AM, after finding this site two hours prior, I went downstairs without saying a word and flushed 3 1/2 tins of Grizzly down the toilet.
I told my wife of my quit shortly after and was rewarded with a smile and a, "That's great baby". Who can blame her though, I have been telling her the same shit for years now. Then I tell her about the burial-at-sea that just happened downstairs, and suddenly I have someone in my corner! So with her at my side I start down the path to victory... and fall flat on my face less than 12 hours later.
The withdrawal from dipping almost a can a day for 9 years is crushing. I feel pretty anxious and ruin the days outing to the store. After getting home I decide to take the edge off with a cigarette. I instantly feel better, but something isn't right. It isn't the same, I smell like shit and the smoke is making me feel like hell. No matter though, it's helping with my attitude and will save my family some pain. The next morning I get up and am surprised to find myself anxious again, but this time the cigarettes don't help it. By the time Monday hits, I am smoking nearly a pack a day. Yet not so deep inside I feel like a raging ball of hate, wrapped in a layer of tensed muscles, and coated with a "Fuck-You" attitude. I go to a lunch meet with my son's class, and although I manage to keep my mouth shut, everyone steers pretty clear. This was about the time the fog set in. I discovered it had taken me over at almost the exact same time my Mustang's tire discovered a high curb that shredded the sidewall.
From here on out my withdrawal symptoms began to fade away. I had to deal with my smoking shortly after, but it wasn't hard due to the hatred I hold for it. I finally made it to a day where I felt I could make it through a day without nicotine, and on April 7, 2014, I posted "Day 1" in roll call. I have been clean for three days now, and every second of it has sucked. I go through every day wanting, but hopefully that will one day fade. I have to say though, the thing that scares me most and keeps me quit is the details of my withdrawal. I went through word-for word what KTC said I would. But it happened to me while I was still using nicotine! There is such a truck-load of bad shit in dip that I was able to stop dipping, start smoking, and still want to kick puppies and stab kittens. That is just not right, and something I just can't bring myself to put back into my face.
So here I am KTC Community. I come to you beaten down and spitting venom now, but I know this will not last. I will rise above this with the help of my new friends here. Together we will put these days of suffering behind us, stare Nicotine in the eye and say, "Fuck you, Nicotine. I don't need you to survive!"
