Day 6 for me. I had one wild night last night after work, that's for sure.
I felt great during work, nothing bothered me. Nothing could break me. All I needed was a couple handfuls of seeds and a half-pack of gum, and I was on top of the world.
Then I got home from work. Where the fuck did that rage come from?
I was driving to dinner with my roommates and a friend, and we were gearing up to watch the Kings/Coyotes game. One of my roommates always seems to know the right thing to fire me up, and boy, did he do it this time.
He pushed my buttons for a few minutes, like he always does, and all of a sudden, I fucking flipped. I haven't snapped on him since the day I threatened to bury him back in college, but this was a newfound rage. Needless to say, the rest of the drive was pretty quiet.
I calmed down a bit, and ate a shitload of food at the bar. My body was buzzing for a chew, and it must have shown. My friend asked if he was the reason I was so heated, and I told him I hadn't had a chew in 5 days, that I was quitting that shit.
At first, he laughed. He'd never seen me without a tin in my pocket. He had always talked shit to me when I threw one in my lip, but last night, he actually said he was proud of me. PROUD. I'd never heard him say that to me before, mainly because I rarely did anything that could warrant that response, but wow.
We all went back to the house, and watched the rest of the game. The Coyotes got murdered, but I had a great time. Watching hockey without a dip? I used to consider that impossible. Not last night. Not ever again.
Fuck chew and the damage it caused me before. And fuck me for sticking with it so long.