400 days in and the thought of dip still enters my consciousness at least a half dozen times a day. I did this to myself. I chose to start this. I read the warnings that nicotine was addictive and, despite knowing my obscenely addictive personality, I tried it and became an immediate slave, thief, and liar.
I’m tired of being a slave. I am no longer a slave to nicotine but a slave to Quit. I know that I can’t quit quitting. I know that I am far from being able to not post roll for a day and be “ok”. I am accepting that right now I have to choose which one to be a slave to. There is no third option. Go back to nicotine or be quit and deal with it. The constant thoughts are a reminder of addiction and without them I would become complacent; but man, lighten up.
The idea of packing a can, taking a pinch, and working it with my tongue deep into my cheek still seems not only appealing, but ok, fun, and acceptable. IÂ’m sick of that idea. I try to hate it. I try to visualize it as being a slow death, a means to orphan my little girls, a way to widow my wife. Those thoughts are a constant mental battle of power versus power and are emotionally draining. But, I am quit and if I wake tomorrow I will quit again.
I am thankful that I have KTC, the Jackwagins, layers of accountability, a spouse that knows my current struggles to escape my past of epically poor decisions, vets that lead the way, new quitters that bring new energy, and about 130 numbers in my phone for quitters that understand this daily battle.
See you on roll.