Introduction

[B-loMatt]

400 days.  WOW!  I am truly beside myself.  I love this quitting shit.
 
Many years ago I thought “I can quit anytime I want”.  A few decades later, after thousands of discarded partially used tins, I thought, “I am never going to get away from this shit”.  “It is too hard”.  “I cannot quit”.  “It is just this one vice, it’s OK”.  And so on and so on.  Well it wasn’t OK.  Nicotine is a liar and a thief.  I have grown closer to my wife and my kids in these last 400 days than I could have ever imagined.  I did not realize the degree to which my addiction was a barrier to my happiness.  It made me so selfish.  Wish I had quit sooner.  But that is the past.
 
I sat next to a guy at my son’s basketball game yesterday.  He was a dad from the opposing team.  He had a mega wad of Grizzly wintergreen in the whole game, and……………….. he was not spitting.  YUCK!  I saw him pack it in the parking lot and damn it if he didn’t sit right down next to me.  I remember being that guy.

I reminisced. 

I remembered the pain.
 
I remembered the shame.
  
I remembered the deceit.
 
I remembered the hopelessness and the emptiness.
 
I remembered the defeat and failed quits.
 
I could never use enough to feel like I didn’t want more.  And so it is with addiction
. 
For months and months after quitting I used to envy people when I watched them use nicotine.  I remember longing for it as I watched them.  Those feelings of envy and longing are now DEAD to me.  Now I feel only pity for those people.

I feel thankful to be free today.  There are days when I think I am done with this site.  As if the site served its purpose and now I am “truly free”.

Lies!!  Those thoughts are dangerous.  Addiction is forever.  I know this.  I am vulnerable.  I am human.  I need support.  I need reminders.  I need tools.  I need all of you.  And I am OK with that.
 
I told this guy, (above) about KTC.  I told him that if he ever wants to be free, it can be done.  He told me to fuck off.  And I am OK with that.  You never know the power of your words though, and of your example.  Mighty oak trees begin as tiny acorns.  You never know.

Here is my roll post for today.  IG2H.  400. No nicotine today.  I leave you with these words from a wise quitter.  I feel compelled to pull this one out and re-read it today.  Thank you Skoal Monster.  This particular post changed my life and gave my quit a fighting chance.  I hope I can do the same for someone else someday.


SKOAL MONSTER:
Wisdom I have accepted

This shit is forever. It's a scar that will fade, but never heal. I will always be an addict. I fully expect to crave a dip while I'm laying in my death bed, and I'm going to fucking smile, because I still won't give in.

If I forget addiction is forever, I'll eventually cave. Of that I am certain.

The number of days I have accumulated has nothing to do with the strength of my quit. That strength comes from understanding the addiction, and from the strength of my promise.

The only day of any importance is today. Today I will be quit. I always swore I'd quit tomorrow, Tomorrow never seemed to come. When Quitting I do it today. Tomorrow is a dream, the past a memory, I can only control now, and right now I'm choosing quit.

The memory of how bad I truly wanted to quit is stronger than my desire to start again. I hold that memory close, it's a shield against my own bullshit.

Chewing a neurotoxic weed that hi-jacked my bodies feel good chemical producing ability never did anything positive for me. It was never a crutch, just an anchor.

It's a decision, so simple and yet so hard. But thats all it is. A choice. I made that choice, and now I will live with it.

The daily decision to quit becomes easier and easier as time passes. But that doesn't mean I'm cured. Remember, this shit is forever.

The hardest part of quitting is the first step. It was the day you REALLY decided to try. That day took me years to get to. It is so much easier to stay quit than to decide to quit. Don't throw that away, you may never get here again.

When you think about giving in, think about what it took to get here. Your about to throw all that away. You don't take one step back. You physically and neurologically start from zero. This isn't cheating on a diet, it's all in everyday. There truly is no just one.

All that being said, I still come here to remind myself I am an addict. I come here to try to help guide who I can through the door. I can't save anybody but me, but I can shine a light on the path. I strongly encourage you to stick around, The HOF is a milestone, not a destination. There is no cure and you will not ride a rainbow unicorn on day 101. The funk will hit you again, but with less power and more and more time in between. Most days I never think about any of this. Most days I don't even think about dipping or smoking. Sometimes months go by without even a passing urge. You'd trade me hard cash to feel this kind of quit. All you gotta do is keep putting up plus ones and you'll get here. You'll look back and wonder what the big deal was, and kick yourself for not doing it sooner. But don't ever forget the price you paid to get to that point, and don't ever believe that you are cured. As much as it sucks, addiction is forever.”

Excellent post. Thank you and congrats on your 400 days!

Congratulations got 2.

Awesome! Excellent!

[srans]

400 days.  WOW!  I am truly beside myself.  I love this quitting shit.
 
Many years ago I thought “I can quit anytime I want”.  A few decades later, after thousands of discarded partially used tins, I thought, “I am never going to get away from this shit”.  “It is too hard”.  “I cannot quit”.  “It is just this one vice, it’s OK”.  And so on and so on.  Well it wasn’t OK.  Nicotine is a liar and a thief.  I have grown closer to my wife and my kids in these last 400 days than I could have ever imagined.  I did not realize the degree to which my addiction was a barrier to my happiness.  It made me so selfish.  Wish I had quit sooner.  But that is the past.
 
I sat next to a guy at my son’s basketball game yesterday.  He was a dad from the opposing team.  He had a mega wad of Grizzly wintergreen in the whole game, and……………….. he was not spitting.  YUCK!  I saw him pack it in the parking lot and damn it if he didn’t sit right down next to me.  I remember being that guy.

I reminisced. 

I remembered the pain.
 
I remembered the shame.
 
I remembered the deceit.
 
I remembered the hopelessness and the emptiness.
 
I remembered the defeat and failed quits.
 
I could never use enough to feel like I didn’t want more.  And so it is with addiction
. 
For months and months after quitting I used to envy people when I watched them use nicotine.  I remember longing for it as I watched them.  Those feelings of envy and longing are now DEAD to me.  Now I feel only pity for those people.

I feel thankful to be free today.  There are days when I think I am done with this site.  As if the site served its purpose and now I am “truly free”.

Lies!!  Those thoughts are dangerous.  Addiction is forever.  I know this.  I am vulnerable.  I am human.  I need support.  I need reminders.  I need tools.  I need all of you.  And I am OK with that.
 
I told this guy, (above) about KTC.  I told him that if he ever wants to be free, it can be done.  He told me to fuck off.  And I am OK with that.  You never know the power of your words though, and of your example.  Mighty oak trees begin as tiny acorns.  You never know.

Here is my roll post for today.  IG2H.  400. No nicotine today.  I leave you with these words from a wise quitter.  I feel compelled to pull this one out and re-read it today.  Thank you Skoal Monster.  This particular post changed my life and gave my quit a fighting chance.  I hope I can do the same for someone else someday.


SKOAL MONSTER:
Wisdom I have accepted

This shit is forever. It's a scar that will fade, but never heal. I will always be an addict. I fully expect to crave a dip while I'm laying in my death bed, and I'm going to fucking smile, because I still won't give in.

If I forget addiction is forever, I'll eventually cave. Of that I am certain.

The number of days I have accumulated has nothing to do with the strength of my quit. That strength comes from understanding the addiction, and from the strength of my promise.

The only day of any importance is today. Today I will be quit. I always swore I'd quit tomorrow, Tomorrow never seemed to come. When Quitting I do it today. Tomorrow is a dream, the past a memory, I can only control now, and right now I'm choosing quit.

The memory of how bad I truly wanted to quit is stronger than my desire to start again. I hold that memory close, it's a shield against my own bullshit.

Chewing a neurotoxic weed that hi-jacked my bodies feel good chemical producing ability never did anything positive for me. It was never a crutch, just an anchor.

It's a decision, so simple and yet so hard. But thats all it is. A choice. I made that choice, and now I will live with it.

The daily decision to quit becomes easier and easier as time passes. But that doesn't mean I'm cured. Remember, this shit is forever.

The hardest part of quitting is the first step. It was the day you REALLY decided to try. That day took me years to get to. It is so much easier to stay quit than to decide to quit. Don't throw that away, you may never get here again.

When you think about giving in, think about what it took to get here. Your about to throw all that away. You don't take one step back. You physically and neurologically start from zero. This isn't cheating on a diet, it's all in everyday. There truly is no just one.

All that being said, I still come here to remind myself I am an addict. I come here to try to help guide who I can through the door. I can't save anybody but me, but I can shine a light on the path. I strongly encourage you to stick around, The HOF is a milestone, not a destination. There is no cure and you will not ride a rainbow unicorn on day 101. The funk will hit you again, but with less power and more and more time in between. Most days I never think about any of this. Most days I don't even think about dipping or smoking. Sometimes months go by without even a passing urge. You'd trade me hard cash to feel this kind of quit. All you gotta do is keep putting up plus ones and you'll get here. You'll look back and wonder what the big deal was, and kick yourself for not doing it sooner. But don't ever forget the price you paid to get to that point, and don't ever believe that you are cured. As much as it sucks, addiction is forever.”

Excellent post. Thank you and congrats on your 400 days!

Congratulations got 2.

[SirDerek]

400 days.  WOW!  I am truly beside myself.  I love this quitting shit.
 
Many years ago I thought “I can quit anytime I want”.  A few decades later, after thousands of discarded partially used tins, I thought, “I am never going to get away from this shit”.  “It is too hard”.  “I cannot quit”.  “It is just this one vice, it’s OK”.  And so on and so on.  Well it wasn’t OK.  Nicotine is a liar and a thief.  I have grown closer to my wife and my kids in these last 400 days than I could have ever imagined.  I did not realize the degree to which my addiction was a barrier to my happiness.  It made me so selfish.  Wish I had quit sooner.  But that is the past.
 
I sat next to a guy at my son’s basketball game yesterday.  He was a dad from the opposing team.  He had a mega wad of Grizzly wintergreen in the whole game, and……………….. he was not spitting.  YUCK!  I saw him pack it in the parking lot and damn it if he didn’t sit right down next to me.  I remember being that guy.

I reminisced. 

I remembered the pain.
 
I remembered the shame.
 
I remembered the deceit.
 
I remembered the hopelessness and the emptiness.
 
I remembered the defeat and failed quits.
 
I could never use enough to feel like I didn’t want more.  And so it is with addiction
. 
For months and months after quitting I used to envy people when I watched them use nicotine.  I remember longing for it as I watched them.  Those feelings of envy and longing are now DEAD to me.  Now I feel only pity for those people.

I feel thankful to be free today.  There are days when I think I am done with this site.  As if the site served its purpose and now I am “truly free”.

Lies!!  Those thoughts are dangerous.  Addiction is forever.  I know this.  I am vulnerable.  I am human.  I need support.  I need reminders.  I need tools.  I need all of you.  And I am OK with that.
 
I told this guy, (above) about KTC.  I told him that if he ever wants to be free, it can be done.  He told me to fuck off.  And I am OK with that.  You never know the power of your words though, and of your example.  Mighty oak trees begin as tiny acorns.  You never know.

Here is my roll post for today.  IG2H.  400. No nicotine today.  I leave you with these words from a wise quitter.  I feel compelled to pull this one out and re-read it today.  Thank you Skoal Monster.  This particular post changed my life and gave my quit a fighting chance.  I hope I can do the same for someone else someday.


SKOAL MONSTER:
Wisdom I have accepted

This shit is forever. It's a scar that will fade, but never heal. I will always be an addict. I fully expect to crave a dip while I'm laying in my death bed, and I'm going to fucking smile, because I still won't give in.

If I forget addiction is forever, I'll eventually cave. Of that I am certain.

The number of days I have accumulated has nothing to do with the strength of my quit. That strength comes from understanding the addiction, and from the strength of my promise.

The only day of any importance is today. Today I will be quit. I always swore I'd quit tomorrow, Tomorrow never seemed to come. When Quitting I do it today. Tomorrow is a dream, the past a memory, I can only control now, and right now I'm choosing quit.

The memory of how bad I truly wanted to quit is stronger than my desire to start again. I hold that memory close, it's a shield against my own bullshit.

Chewing a neurotoxic weed that hi-jacked my bodies feel good chemical producing ability never did anything positive for me. It was never a crutch, just an anchor.

It's a decision, so simple and yet so hard. But thats all it is. A choice. I made that choice, and now I will live with it.

The daily decision to quit becomes easier and easier as time passes. But that doesn't mean I'm cured. Remember, this shit is forever.

The hardest part of quitting is the first step. It was the day you REALLY decided to try. That day took me years to get to. It is so much easier to stay quit than to decide to quit. Don't throw that away, you may never get here again.

When you think about giving in, think about what it took to get here. Your about to throw all that away. You don't take one step back. You physically and neurologically start from zero. This isn't cheating on a diet, it's all in everyday. There truly is no just one.

All that being said, I still come here to remind myself I am an addict. I come here to try to help guide who I can through the door. I can't save anybody but me, but I can shine a light on the path. I strongly encourage you to stick around, The HOF is a milestone, not a destination. There is no cure and you will not ride a rainbow unicorn on day 101. The funk will hit you again, but with less power and more and more time in between. Most days I never think about any of this. Most days I don't even think about dipping or smoking. Sometimes months go by without even a passing urge. You'd trade me hard cash to feel this kind of quit. All you gotta do is keep putting up plus ones and you'll get here. You'll look back and wonder what the big deal was, and kick yourself for not doing it sooner. But don't ever forget the price you paid to get to that point, and don't ever believe that you are cured. As much as it sucks, addiction is forever.”

Excellent post. Thank you and congrats on your 400 days!

'worship'

that is all

[Grizzlyhasclaws]

400 days. WOW! I am truly beside myself. I love this quitting shit.

Many years ago I thought “I can quit anytime I want”. A few decades later, after thousands of discarded partially used tins, I thought, “I am never going to get away from this shit”. “It is too hard”. “I cannot quit”. “It is just this one vice, it’s OK”. And so on and so on. Well it wasn’t OK. Nicotine is a liar and a thief. I have grown closer to my wife and my kids in these last 400 days than I could have ever imagined. I did not realize the degree to which my addiction was a barrier to my happiness. It made me so selfish. Wish I had quit sooner. But that is the past.

I sat next to a guy at my sonÂ’s basketball game yesterday. He was a dad from the opposing team. He had a mega wad of Grizzly wintergreen in the whole game, andÂ…Â…Â…Â…Â…Â….. he was not spitting. YUCK! I saw him pack it in the parking lot and damn it if he didnÂ’t sit right down next to me. I remember being that guy.

I reminisced.

I remembered the pain.

I remembered the shame.

I remembered the deceit.

I remembered the hopelessness and the emptiness.

I remembered the defeat and failed quits.

I could never use enough to feel like I didnÂ’t want more. And so it is with addiction
.
For months and months after quitting I used to envy people when I watched them use nicotine. I remember longing for it as I watched them. Those feelings of envy and longing are now DEAD to me. Now I feel only pity for those people.

I feel thankful to be free today. There are days when I think I am done with this site. As if the site served its purpose and now I am “truly free”.

Lies!! Those thoughts are dangerous. Addiction is forever. I know this. I am vulnerable. I am human. I need support. I need reminders. I need tools. I need all of you. And I am OK with that.

I told this guy, (above) about KTC. I told him that if he ever wants to be free, it can be done. He told me to fuck off. And I am OK with that. You never know the power of your words though, and of your example. Mighty oak trees begin as tiny acorns. You never know.

Here is my roll post for today. IG2H. 400. No nicotine today. I leave you with these words from a wise quitter. I feel compelled to pull this one out and re-read it today. Thank you Skoal Monster. This particular post changed my life and gave my quit a fighting chance. I hope I can do the same for someone else someday.


SKOAL MONSTER:
Wisdom I have accepted

This shit is forever. It's a scar that will fade, but never heal. I will always be an addict. I fully expect to crave a dip while I'm laying in my death bed, and I'm going to fucking smile, because I still won't give in.

If I forget addiction is forever, I'll eventually cave. Of that I am certain.

The number of days I have accumulated has nothing to do with the strength of my quit. That strength comes from understanding the addiction, and from the strength of my promise.

The only day of any importance is today. Today I will be quit. I always swore I'd quit tomorrow, Tomorrow never seemed to come. When Quitting I do it today. Tomorrow is a dream, the past a memory, I can only control now, and right now I'm choosing quit.

The memory of how bad I truly wanted to quit is stronger than my desire to start again. I hold that memory close, it's a shield against my own bullshit.

Chewing a neurotoxic weed that hi-jacked my bodies feel good chemical producing ability never did anything positive for me. It was never a crutch, just an anchor.

It's a decision, so simple and yet so hard. But thats all it is. A choice. I made that choice, and now I will live with it.

The daily decision to quit becomes easier and easier as time passes. But that doesn't mean I'm cured. Remember, this shit is forever.

The hardest part of quitting is the first step. It was the day you REALLY decided to try. That day took me years to get to. It is so much easier to stay quit than to decide to quit. Don't throw that away, you may never get here again.

When you think about giving in, think about what it took to get here. Your about to throw all that away. You don't take one step back. You physically and neurologically start from zero. This isn't cheating on a diet, it's all in everyday. There truly is no just one.

All that being said, I still come here to remind myself I am an addict. I come here to try to help guide who I can through the door. I can't save anybody but me, but I can shine a light on the path. I strongly encourage you to stick around, The HOF is a milestone, not a destination. There is no cure and you will not ride a rainbow unicorn on day 101. The funk will hit you again, but with less power and more and more time in between. Most days I never think about any of this. Most days I don't even think about dipping or smoking. Sometimes months go by without even a passing urge. You'd trade me hard cash to feel this kind of quit. All you gotta do is keep putting up plus ones and you'll get here. You'll look back and wonder what the big deal was, and kick yourself for not doing it sooner. But don't ever forget the price you paid to get to that point, and don't ever believe that you are cured. As much as it sucks, addiction is forever.”

Excellent post. Thank you and congrats on your 400 days!

[Its_Got2Happen]

400 days. WOW! I am truly beside myself. I love this quitting shit.

Many years ago I thought “I can quit anytime I want”. A few decades later, after thousands of discarded partially used tins, I thought, “I am never going to get away from this shit”. “It is too hard”. “I cannot quit”. “It is just this one vice, it’s OK”. And so on and so on. Well it wasn’t OK. Nicotine is a liar and a thief. I have grown closer to my wife and my kids in these last 400 days than I could have ever imagined. I did not realize the degree to which my addiction was a barrier to my happiness. It made me so selfish. Wish I had quit sooner. But that is the past.

I sat next to a guy at my sonÂ’s basketball game yesterday. He was a dad from the opposing team. He had a mega wad of Grizzly wintergreen in the whole game, andÂ…Â…Â…Â…Â…Â….. he was not spitting. YUCK! I saw him pack it in the parking lot and damn it if he didnÂ’t sit right down next to me. I remember being that guy.

I reminisced.

I remembered the pain.

I remembered the shame.

I remembered the deceit.

I remembered the hopelessness and the emptiness.

I remembered the defeat and failed quits.

I could never use enough to feel like I didnÂ’t want more. And so it is with addiction
.
For months and months after quitting I used to envy people when I watched them use nicotine. I remember longing for it as I watched them. Those feelings of envy and longing are now DEAD to me. Now I feel only pity for those people.

I feel thankful to be free today. There are days when I think I am done with this site. As if the site served its purpose and now I am “truly free”.

Lies!! Those thoughts are dangerous. Addiction is forever. I know this. I am vulnerable. I am human. I need support. I need reminders. I need tools. I need all of you. And I am OK with that.

I told this guy, (above) about KTC. I told him that if he ever wants to be free, it can be done. He told me to fuck off. And I am OK with that. You never know the power of your words though, and of your example. Mighty oak trees begin as tiny acorns. You never know.

Here is my roll post for today. IG2H. 400. No nicotine today. I leave you with these words from a wise quitter. I feel compelled to pull this one out and re-read it today. Thank you Skoal Monster. This particular post changed my life and gave my quit a fighting chance. I hope I can do the same for someone else someday.


SKOAL MONSTER:
Wisdom I have accepted

This shit is forever. It's a scar that will fade, but never heal. I will always be an addict. I fully expect to crave a dip while I'm laying in my death bed, and I'm going to fucking smile, because I still won't give in.

If I forget addiction is forever, I'll eventually cave. Of that I am certain.

The number of days I have accumulated has nothing to do with the strength of my quit. That strength comes from understanding the addiction, and from the strength of my promise.

The only day of any importance is today. Today I will be quit. I always swore I'd quit tomorrow, Tomorrow never seemed to come. When Quitting I do it today. Tomorrow is a dream, the past a memory, I can only control now, and right now I'm choosing quit.

The memory of how bad I truly wanted to quit is stronger than my desire to start again. I hold that memory close, it's a shield against my own bullshit.

Chewing a neurotoxic weed that hi-jacked my bodies feel good chemical producing ability never did anything positive for me. It was never a crutch, just an anchor.

It's a decision, so simple and yet so hard. But thats all it is. A choice. I made that choice, and now I will live with it.

The daily decision to quit becomes easier and easier as time passes. But that doesn't mean I'm cured. Remember, this shit is forever.

The hardest part of quitting is the first step. It was the day you REALLY decided to try. That day took me years to get to. It is so much easier to stay quit than to decide to quit. Don't throw that away, you may never get here again.

When you think about giving in, think about what it took to get here. Your about to throw all that away. You don't take one step back. You physically and neurologically start from zero. This isn't cheating on a diet, it's all in everyday. There truly is no just one.

All that being said, I still come here to remind myself I am an addict. I come here to try to help guide who I can through the door. I can't save anybody but me, but I can shine a light on the path. I strongly encourage you to stick around, The HOF is a milestone, not a destination. There is no cure and you will not ride a rainbow unicorn on day 101. The funk will hit you again, but with less power and more and more time in between. Most days I never think about any of this. Most days I don't even think about dipping or smoking. Sometimes months go by without even a passing urge. You'd trade me hard cash to feel this kind of quit. All you gotta do is keep putting up plus ones and you'll get here. You'll look back and wonder what the big deal was, and kick yourself for not doing it sooner. But don't ever forget the price you paid to get to that point, and don't ever believe that you are cured. As much as it sucks, addiction is forever.”

[omahaflyer]

365 days ago, on New Year’s Day, I dumped the last of my grizzly wintergreen into the toilet.  I wish I could say my resolve was firm at that moment, but it wasn’t.  The truth is I was too hung over to pack a dip that morning anyway.  So I figured that I might as well try to “quit”, again, for the millionth time.  Most of the day I thought about the tins out in my truck that certainly had enough left in them for a lip full.  I also thought about all of the 4mg lozenges that were stashed everywhere from my previous quit attempts, (in my glove box, in my tool box and in my desk at work).

Somehow I made it through that day without ingesting nicotine.  And truthfully that “day 1” and many of my previous day 1’s were not actually too bad.  Day 2 and following was a whole other ball game.  I remembered it well from previous “quits”.  The whirlwind ensued and all of the symptoms of withdrawal  began.  As is common with addiction, this withdrawal began to dominate my every thought and my very existence.  I remember bits and pieces of it, but mostly I remember spending about a week on the couch curled up in the fetal position.  Somewhere around day 2 or 3, I did manage to clean out my truck and pitch the spit bottles and the rest of my nicotine paraphernalia.  Oh how I wanted one of those lozenges at that time.  But I knew deep down it was a hook.  It was nicotine’s grip to ensure I didn’t stray too far from her.  In my previous quits I would always use NRT, foolishly keeping myself addicted and prolonging my suffering.   I didn’t know any better.  But for some reason this time I didn’t do it.

Somewhere in the fog of day 3 or 4, I had to go to work for a few hours.  I remember panicking and thinking there was no possible way I could function at work.   I could not think straight, I could not see straight.  It was this day that I found a spent dip and popped it in up for the ride to work.  You know the one, an already dipped dip.  A re-dip so to speak.  It may go by many names, but I scoured my trash can for this one.  Although not the first time having done this, this time felt lower than low.  I knew how bad I wanted to be quit yet I searched the trash like a junkie searching for a vein.  I believe it was this day that I truly realized the depth of my addiction. 

I survived work that day and returned to my couch.  I had the house to myself as the wife and kids went to go and do something fun without me.  She knew how miserable I was acting and she knew that I would have declined to do anything anyway.  She didn’t bother to ask.  I slept for hours and ate everything in sight.  Everything was a trigger.  I felt like my world was caving in.  My mind was racing and my body was kicking and screaming.  At one point I fell to my knees and sobbed, crying out for help.  I knew I was gonna fail anyway so why not just fail right now.  I thought that I could end this misery RIGHT NOW by running to the store and getting my dip.  I didn’t.  Instead I decided to turn on my computer and Google nicotine withdrawal.  That is where this story begins.  That is the moment that this quit had a fighting chance. 

Today should be my 365.  But it isn’t.  I cannot count from the day that I valiantly and triumphantly dumped my can in the toilet.   I must count that last dip on the way to work.  The one from the garbage can.  It will be this dip that I force myself to remember on the anniversaries of my quit and during those times in the future that I might be tempted.  It was the worst dip that I ever took.  It was the one that I didn’t want.  It was the one that I tried to fight.  It was the one that made me realize that I was an addict and that I could not get free on my own.  It was this dip that led me to you and this wonderful place called KTC.
 
I want to wish a Happy New Year to you and your families.  I will be celebrating this one without dip for the first time in my adult life and for that I am grateful beyond belief. 

If you are reading this and you are contemplating quitting.  Get off the fence, make the decision, and join us.  You will not regret it.

Its_Got2Happen Day 361

After 373 days I still read the intros every day. Because of posts like this. Thank you for the vivid reminder if where we were a year ago, a dark miserable place we put ourselves in that we had to fight... Kicking, screaming, and crying... To escape. But, one day at a time we did.

Be it today or in 3-4 more, congratulations, Ryan. Thanks for bringing me along for the ride. Happy new year.

well done brother.. i remember when you first came here.. so proud of you. keep it going because it just gets better  better everyday. no more dumpster diving for us!

Quit with you any day bro. I'm staying on this ride,,,, I LIKEY!

Thank you gentlemen. I must say, it feels mighty good to be starting this new year off in freedom rather than bondage and torment. I recall the mental anguish last year during the first few weeks of quitting. Constantly battling in my head, day in and day out.

"I deserve a dip", "it is just this one vice", "it is not so bad", "I can quit later", "I will just cut down", "I will just use it on the weekend", and so on, and so on. Thankfully I found this place and an army of supporters that helped me through.

:wub:

Thanks for sharing IG2H. Powerful read. I quit with you today.

So happy for you.

[Tazbutane]

365 days ago, on New Year’s Day, I dumped the last of my grizzly wintergreen into the toilet.  I wish I could say my resolve was firm at that moment, but it wasn’t.  The truth is I was too hung over to pack a dip that morning anyway.  So I figured that I might as well try to “quit”, again, for the millionth time.  Most of the day I thought about the tins out in my truck that certainly had enough left in them for a lip full.  I also thought about all of the 4mg lozenges that were stashed everywhere from my previous quit attempts, (in my glove box, in my tool box and in my desk at work).

Somehow I made it through that day without ingesting nicotine.  And truthfully that “day 1” and many of my previous day 1’s were not actually too bad.  Day 2 and following was a whole other ball game.  I remembered it well from previous “quits”.  The whirlwind ensued and all of the symptoms of withdrawal  began.  As is common with addiction, this withdrawal began to dominate my every thought and my very existence.  I remember bits and pieces of it, but mostly I remember spending about a week on the couch curled up in the fetal position.  Somewhere around day 2 or 3, I did manage to clean out my truck and pitch the spit bottles and the rest of my nicotine paraphernalia.  Oh how I wanted one of those lozenges at that time.  But I knew deep down it was a hook.  It was nicotine’s grip to ensure I didn’t stray too far from her.  In my previous quits I would always use NRT, foolishly keeping myself addicted and prolonging my suffering.   I didn’t know any better.  But for some reason this time I didn’t do it.

Somewhere in the fog of day 3 or 4, I had to go to work for a few hours.  I remember panicking and thinking there was no possible way I could function at work.   I could not think straight, I could not see straight.  It was this day that I found a spent dip and popped it in up for the ride to work.  You know the one, an already dipped dip.  A re-dip so to speak.  It may go by many names, but I scoured my trash can for this one.  Although not the first time having done this, this time felt lower than low.  I knew how bad I wanted to be quit yet I searched the trash like a junkie searching for a vein.  I believe it was this day that I truly realized the depth of my addiction. 

I survived work that day and returned to my couch.  I had the house to myself as the wife and kids went to go and do something fun without me.  She knew how miserable I was acting and she knew that I would have declined to do anything anyway.  She didn’t bother to ask.  I slept for hours and ate everything in sight.  Everything was a trigger.  I felt like my world was caving in.  My mind was racing and my body was kicking and screaming.  At one point I fell to my knees and sobbed, crying out for help.  I knew I was gonna fail anyway so why not just fail right now.  I thought that I could end this misery RIGHT NOW by running to the store and getting my dip.  I didn’t.  Instead I decided to turn on my computer and Google nicotine withdrawal.  That is where this story begins.  That is the moment that this quit had a fighting chance. 

Today should be my 365.  But it isn’t.  I cannot count from the day that I valiantly and triumphantly dumped my can in the toilet.   I must count that last dip on the way to work.  The one from the garbage can.  It will be this dip that I force myself to remember on the anniversaries of my quit and during those times in the future that I might be tempted.  It was the worst dip that I ever took.  It was the one that I didn’t want.  It was the one that I tried to fight.  It was the one that made me realize that I was an addict and that I could not get free on my own.  It was this dip that led me to you and this wonderful place called KTC.
 
I want to wish a Happy New Year to you and your families.  I will be celebrating this one without dip for the first time in my adult life and for that I am grateful beyond belief. 

If you are reading this and you are contemplating quitting.  Get off the fence, make the decision, and join us.  You will not regret it.

Its_Got2Happen Day 361

After 373 days I still read the intros every day. Because of posts like this. Thank you for the vivid reminder if where we were a year ago, a dark miserable place we put ourselves in that we had to fight... Kicking, screaming, and crying... To escape. But, one day at a time we did.

Be it today or in 3-4 more, congratulations, Ryan. Thanks for bringing me along for the ride. Happy new year.

well done brother.. i remember when you first came here.. so proud of you. keep it going because it just gets better  better everyday. no more dumpster diving for us!

Quit with you any day bro. I'm staying on this ride,,,, I LIKEY!

Thank you gentlemen. I must say, it feels mighty good to be starting this new year off in freedom rather than bondage and torment. I recall the mental anguish last year during the first few weeks of quitting. Constantly battling in my head, day in and day out.

"I deserve a dip", "it is just this one vice", "it is not so bad", "I can quit later", "I will just cut down", "I will just use it on the weekend", and so on, and so on. Thankfully I found this place and an army of supporters that helped me through.

:wub:

Thanks for sharing IG2H. Powerful read. I quit with you today.

[Mthomas3824]

365 days ago, on New Year’s Day, I dumped the last of my grizzly wintergreen into the toilet.  I wish I could say my resolve was firm at that moment, but it wasn’t.  The truth is I was too hung over to pack a dip that morning anyway.  So I figured that I might as well try to “quit”, again, for the millionth time.  Most of the day I thought about the tins out in my truck that certainly had enough left in them for a lip full.  I also thought about all of the 4mg lozenges that were stashed everywhere from my previous quit attempts, (in my glove box, in my tool box and in my desk at work).

Somehow I made it through that day without ingesting nicotine.  And truthfully that “day 1” and many of my previous day 1’s were not actually too bad.  Day 2 and following was a whole other ball game.  I remembered it well from previous “quits”.  The whirlwind ensued and all of the symptoms of withdrawal  began.  As is common with addiction, this withdrawal began to dominate my every thought and my very existence.  I remember bits and pieces of it, but mostly I remember spending about a week on the couch curled up in the fetal position.  Somewhere around day 2 or 3, I did manage to clean out my truck and pitch the spit bottles and the rest of my nicotine paraphernalia.  Oh how I wanted one of those lozenges at that time.  But I knew deep down it was a hook.  It was nicotine’s grip to ensure I didn’t stray too far from her.  In my previous quits I would always use NRT, foolishly keeping myself addicted and prolonging my suffering.   I didn’t know any better.  But for some reason this time I didn’t do it.

Somewhere in the fog of day 3 or 4, I had to go to work for a few hours.  I remember panicking and thinking there was no possible way I could function at work.   I could not think straight, I could not see straight.  It was this day that I found a spent dip and popped it in up for the ride to work.  You know the one, an already dipped dip.  A re-dip so to speak.  It may go by many names, but I scoured my trash can for this one.  Although not the first time having done this, this time felt lower than low.  I knew how bad I wanted to be quit yet I searched the trash like a junkie searching for a vein.  I believe it was this day that I truly realized the depth of my addiction. 

I survived work that day and returned to my couch.  I had the house to myself as the wife and kids went to go and do something fun without me.  She knew how miserable I was acting and she knew that I would have declined to do anything anyway.  She didn’t bother to ask.  I slept for hours and ate everything in sight.  Everything was a trigger.  I felt like my world was caving in.  My mind was racing and my body was kicking and screaming.  At one point I fell to my knees and sobbed, crying out for help.  I knew I was gonna fail anyway so why not just fail right now.  I thought that I could end this misery RIGHT NOW by running to the store and getting my dip.  I didn’t.  Instead I decided to turn on my computer and Google nicotine withdrawal.  That is where this story begins.  That is the moment that this quit had a fighting chance. 

Today should be my 365.  But it isn’t.  I cannot count from the day that I valiantly and triumphantly dumped my can in the toilet.   I must count that last dip on the way to work.  The one from the garbage can.  It will be this dip that I force myself to remember on the anniversaries of my quit and during those times in the future that I might be tempted.  It was the worst dip that I ever took.  It was the one that I didn’t want.  It was the one that I tried to fight.  It was the one that made me realize that I was an addict and that I could not get free on my own.  It was this dip that led me to you and this wonderful place called KTC.
 
I want to wish a Happy New Year to you and your families.  I will be celebrating this one without dip for the first time in my adult life and for that I am grateful beyond belief. 

If you are reading this and you are contemplating quitting.  Get off the fence, make the decision, and join us.  You will not regret it.

Its_Got2Happen Day 361

After 373 days I still read the intros every day. Because of posts like this. Thank you for the vivid reminder if where we were a year ago, a dark miserable place we put ourselves in that we had to fight... Kicking, screaming, and crying... To escape. But, one day at a time we did.

Be it today or in 3-4 more, congratulations, Ryan. Thanks for bringing me along for the ride. Happy new year.

well done brother.. i remember when you first came here.. so proud of you. keep it going because it just gets better  better everyday. no more dumpster diving for us!

Quit with you any day bro. I'm staying on this ride,,,, I LIKEY!

Thank you gentlemen. I must say, it feels mighty good to be starting this new year off in freedom rather than bondage and torment. I recall the mental anguish last year during the first few weeks of quitting. Constantly battling in my head, day in and day out.

"I deserve a dip", "it is just this one vice", "it is not so bad", "I can quit later", "I will just cut down", "I will just use it on the weekend", and so on, and so on. Thankfully I found this place and an army of supporters that helped me through.

:wub:

[kkljinc]

I quit with ya IG2H!! EDD

[Its_Got2Happen]

365 days ago, on New Year’s Day, I dumped the last of my grizzly wintergreen into the toilet.  I wish I could say my resolve was firm at that moment, but it wasn’t.  The truth is I was too hung over to pack a dip that morning anyway.  So I figured that I might as well try to “quit”, again, for the millionth time.  Most of the day I thought about the tins out in my truck that certainly had enough left in them for a lip full.  I also thought about all of the 4mg lozenges that were stashed everywhere from my previous quit attempts, (in my glove box, in my tool box and in my desk at work).

Somehow I made it through that day without ingesting nicotine.  And truthfully that “day 1” and many of my previous day 1’s were not actually too bad.  Day 2 and following was a whole other ball game.  I remembered it well from previous “quits”.  The whirlwind ensued and all of the symptoms of withdrawal  began.  As is common with addiction, this withdrawal began to dominate my every thought and my very existence.  I remember bits and pieces of it, but mostly I remember spending about a week on the couch curled up in the fetal position.  Somewhere around day 2 or 3, I did manage to clean out my truck and pitch the spit bottles and the rest of my nicotine paraphernalia.  Oh how I wanted one of those lozenges at that time.  But I knew deep down it was a hook.  It was nicotine’s grip to ensure I didn’t stray too far from her.  In my previous quits I would always use NRT, foolishly keeping myself addicted and prolonging my suffering.   I didn’t know any better.  But for some reason this time I didn’t do it.

Somewhere in the fog of day 3 or 4, I had to go to work for a few hours.  I remember panicking and thinking there was no possible way I could function at work.   I could not think straight, I could not see straight.  It was this day that I found a spent dip and popped it in up for the ride to work.  You know the one, an already dipped dip.  A re-dip so to speak.  It may go by many names, but I scoured my trash can for this one.  Although not the first time having done this, this time felt lower than low.  I knew how bad I wanted to be quit yet I searched the trash like a junkie searching for a vein.  I believe it was this day that I truly realized the depth of my addiction. 

I survived work that day and returned to my couch.  I had the house to myself as the wife and kids went to go and do something fun without me.  She knew how miserable I was acting and she knew that I would have declined to do anything anyway.  She didn’t bother to ask.  I slept for hours and ate everything in sight.  Everything was a trigger.  I felt like my world was caving in.  My mind was racing and my body was kicking and screaming.  At one point I fell to my knees and sobbed, crying out for help.  I knew I was gonna fail anyway so why not just fail right now.  I thought that I could end this misery RIGHT NOW by running to the store and getting my dip.  I didn’t.  Instead I decided to turn on my computer and Google nicotine withdrawal.  That is where this story begins.  That is the moment that this quit had a fighting chance. 

Today should be my 365.  But it isn’t.  I cannot count from the day that I valiantly and triumphantly dumped my can in the toilet.   I must count that last dip on the way to work.  The one from the garbage can.  It will be this dip that I force myself to remember on the anniversaries of my quit and during those times in the future that I might be tempted.  It was the worst dip that I ever took.  It was the one that I didn’t want.  It was the one that I tried to fight.  It was the one that made me realize that I was an addict and that I could not get free on my own.  It was this dip that led me to you and this wonderful place called KTC.
 
I want to wish a Happy New Year to you and your families.  I will be celebrating this one without dip for the first time in my adult life and for that I am grateful beyond belief. 

If you are reading this and you are contemplating quitting.  Get off the fence, make the decision, and join us.  You will not regret it.

Its_Got2Happen Day 361

After 373 days I still read the intros every day. Because of posts like this. Thank you for the vivid reminder if where we were a year ago, a dark miserable place we put ourselves in that we had to fight... Kicking, screaming, and crying... To escape. But, one day at a time we did.

Be it today or in 3-4 more, congratulations, Ryan. Thanks for bringing me along for the ride. Happy new year.

well done brother.. i remember when you first came here.. so proud of you. keep it going because it just gets better  better everyday. no more dumpster diving for us!

Quit with you any day bro. I'm staying on this ride,,,, I LIKEY!

Thank you gentlemen. I must say, it feels mighty good to be starting this new year off in freedom rather than bondage and torment. I recall the mental anguish last year during the first few weeks of quitting. Constantly battling in my head, day in and day out.

"I deserve a dip", "it is just this one vice", "it is not so bad", "I can quit later", "I will just cut down", "I will just use it on the weekend", and so on, and so on. Thankfully I found this place and an army of supporters that helped me through.

[RAZD611]

'clap'

[srans]

365 days ago, on New Year’s Day, I dumped the last of my grizzly wintergreen into the toilet.  I wish I could say my resolve was firm at that moment, but it wasn’t.  The truth is I was too hung over to pack a dip that morning anyway.  So I figured that I might as well try to “quit”, again, for the millionth time.  Most of the day I thought about the tins out in my truck that certainly had enough left in them for a lip full.  I also thought about all of the 4mg lozenges that were stashed everywhere from my previous quit attempts, (in my glove box, in my tool box and in my desk at work).

Somehow I made it through that day without ingesting nicotine.  And truthfully that “day 1” and many of my previous day 1’s were not actually too bad.  Day 2 and following was a whole other ball game.  I remembered it well from previous “quits”.  The whirlwind ensued and all of the symptoms of withdrawal  began.  As is common with addiction, this withdrawal began to dominate my every thought and my very existence.  I remember bits and pieces of it, but mostly I remember spending about a week on the couch curled up in the fetal position.  Somewhere around day 2 or 3, I did manage to clean out my truck and pitch the spit bottles and the rest of my nicotine paraphernalia.  Oh how I wanted one of those lozenges at that time.  But I knew deep down it was a hook.  It was nicotine’s grip to ensure I didn’t stray too far from her.  In my previous quits I would always use NRT, foolishly keeping myself addicted and prolonging my suffering.   I didn’t know any better.  But for some reason this time I didn’t do it.

Somewhere in the fog of day 3 or 4, I had to go to work for a few hours.  I remember panicking and thinking there was no possible way I could function at work.   I could not think straight, I could not see straight.  It was this day that I found a spent dip and popped it in up for the ride to work.  You know the one, an already dipped dip.  A re-dip so to speak.  It may go by many names, but I scoured my trash can for this one.  Although not the first time having done this, this time felt lower than low.  I knew how bad I wanted to be quit yet I searched the trash like a junkie searching for a vein.  I believe it was this day that I truly realized the depth of my addiction. 

I survived work that day and returned to my couch.  I had the house to myself as the wife and kids went to go and do something fun without me.  She knew how miserable I was acting and she knew that I would have declined to do anything anyway.  She didn’t bother to ask.  I slept for hours and ate everything in sight.  Everything was a trigger.  I felt like my world was caving in.  My mind was racing and my body was kicking and screaming.  At one point I fell to my knees and sobbed, crying out for help.  I knew I was gonna fail anyway so why not just fail right now.  I thought that I could end this misery RIGHT NOW by running to the store and getting my dip.  I didn’t.  Instead I decided to turn on my computer and Google nicotine withdrawal.  That is where this story begins.  That is the moment that this quit had a fighting chance. 

Today should be my 365.  But it isn’t.  I cannot count from the day that I valiantly and triumphantly dumped my can in the toilet.   I must count that last dip on the way to work.  The one from the garbage can.  It will be this dip that I force myself to remember on the anniversaries of my quit and during those times in the future that I might be tempted.  It was the worst dip that I ever took.  It was the one that I didn’t want.  It was the one that I tried to fight.  It was the one that made me realize that I was an addict and that I could not get free on my own.  It was this dip that led me to you and this wonderful place called KTC.
 
I want to wish a Happy New Year to you and your families.  I will be celebrating this one without dip for the first time in my adult life and for that I am grateful beyond belief. 

If you are reading this and you are contemplating quitting.  Get off the fence, make the decision, and join us.  You will not regret it.

Its_Got2Happen Day 361

After 373 days I still read the intros every day. Because of posts like this. Thank you for the vivid reminder if where we were a year ago, a dark miserable place we put ourselves in that we had to fight... Kicking, screaming, and crying... To escape. But, one day at a time we did.

Be it today or in 3-4 more, congratulations, Ryan. Thanks for bringing me along for the ride. Happy new year.

well done brother.. i remember when you first came here.. so proud of you. keep it going because it just gets better  better everyday. no more dumpster diving for us!

Quit with you any day bro. I'm staying on this ride,,,, I LIKEY!

[kana]

365 days ago, on New Year’s Day, I dumped the last of my grizzly wintergreen into the toilet.  I wish I could say my resolve was firm at that moment, but it wasn’t.  The truth is I was too hung over to pack a dip that morning anyway.  So I figured that I might as well try to “quit”, again, for the millionth time.  Most of the day I thought about the tins out in my truck that certainly had enough left in them for a lip full.  I also thought about all of the 4mg lozenges that were stashed everywhere from my previous quit attempts, (in my glove box, in my tool box and in my desk at work).

Somehow I made it through that day without ingesting nicotine.  And truthfully that “day 1” and many of my previous day 1’s were not actually too bad.  Day 2 and following was a whole other ball game.  I remembered it well from previous “quits”.  The whirlwind ensued and all of the symptoms of withdrawal  began.  As is common with addiction, this withdrawal began to dominate my every thought and my very existence.  I remember bits and pieces of it, but mostly I remember spending about a week on the couch curled up in the fetal position.  Somewhere around day 2 or 3, I did manage to clean out my truck and pitch the spit bottles and the rest of my nicotine paraphernalia.  Oh how I wanted one of those lozenges at that time.  But I knew deep down it was a hook.  It was nicotine’s grip to ensure I didn’t stray too far from her.  In my previous quits I would always use NRT, foolishly keeping myself addicted and prolonging my suffering.  I didn’t know any better.  But for some reason this time I didn’t do it.

Somewhere in the fog of day 3 or 4, I had to go to work for a few hours.  I remember panicking and thinking there was no possible way I could function at work.  I could not think straight, I could not see straight.  It was this day that I found a spent dip and popped it in up for the ride to work.  You know the one, an already dipped dip.  A re-dip so to speak.  It may go by many names, but I scoured my trash can for this one.  Although not the first time having done this, this time felt lower than low.  I knew how bad I wanted to be quit yet I searched the trash like a junkie searching for a vein.  I believe it was this day that I truly realized the depth of my addiction. 

I survived work that day and returned to my couch.  I had the house to myself as the wife and kids went to go and do something fun without me.  She knew how miserable I was acting and she knew that I would have declined to do anything anyway.  She didn’t bother to ask.  I slept for hours and ate everything in sight.  Everything was a trigger.  I felt like my world was caving in.  My mind was racing and my body was kicking and screaming.  At one point I fell to my knees and sobbed, crying out for help.  I knew I was gonna fail anyway so why not just fail right now.  I thought that I could end this misery RIGHT NOW by running to the store and getting my dip.  I didn’t.  Instead I decided to turn on my computer and Google nicotine withdrawal.  That is where this story begins.  That is the moment that this quit had a fighting chance. 

Today should be my 365.  But it isn’t.  I cannot count from the day that I valiantly and triumphantly dumped my can in the toilet.  I must count that last dip on the way to work.  The one from the garbage can.  It will be this dip that I force myself to remember on the anniversaries of my quit and during those times in the future that I might be tempted.  It was the worst dip that I ever took.  It was the one that I didn’t want.  It was the one that I tried to fight.  It was the one that made me realize that I was an addict and that I could not get free on my own.  It was this dip that led me to you and this wonderful place called KTC.
 
I want to wish a Happy New Year to you and your families.  I will be celebrating this one without dip for the first time in my adult life and for that I am grateful beyond belief. 

If you are reading this and you are contemplating quitting.  Get off the fence, make the decision, and join us.  You will not regret it.

Its_Got2Happen Day 361

After 373 days I still read the intros every day. Because of posts like this. Thank you for the vivid reminder if where we were a year ago, a dark miserable place we put ourselves in that we had to fight... Kicking, screaming, and crying... To escape. But, one day at a time we did.

Be it today or in 3-4 more, congratulations, Ryan. Thanks for bringing me along for the ride. Happy new year.

well done brother.. i remember when you first came here.. so proud of you. keep it going because it just gets better  better everyday. no more dumpster diving for us!

[worktowin]

365 days ago, on New Year’s Day, I dumped the last of my grizzly wintergreen into the toilet. I wish I could say my resolve was firm at that moment, but it wasn’t. The truth is I was too hung over to pack a dip that morning anyway. So I figured that I might as well try to “quit”, again, for the millionth time. Most of the day I thought about the tins out in my truck that certainly had enough left in them for a lip full. I also thought about all of the 4mg lozenges that were stashed everywhere from my previous quit attempts, (in my glove box, in my tool box and in my desk at work).

Somehow I made it through that day without ingesting nicotine. And truthfully that “day 1” and many of my previous day 1’s were not actually too bad. Day 2 and following was a whole other ball game. I remembered it well from previous “quits”. The whirlwind ensued and all of the symptoms of withdrawal began. As is common with addiction, this withdrawal began to dominate my every thought and my very existence. I remember bits and pieces of it, but mostly I remember spending about a week on the couch curled up in the fetal position. Somewhere around day 2 or 3, I did manage to clean out my truck and pitch the spit bottles and the rest of my nicotine paraphernalia. Oh how I wanted one of those lozenges at that time. But I knew deep down it was a hook. It was nicotine’s grip to ensure I didn’t stray too far from her. In my previous quits I would always use NRT, foolishly keeping myself addicted and prolonging my suffering. I didn’t know any better. But for some reason this time I didn’t do it.

Somewhere in the fog of day 3 or 4, I had to go to work for a few hours. I remember panicking and thinking there was no possible way I could function at work. I could not think straight, I could not see straight. It was this day that I found a spent dip and popped it in up for the ride to work. You know the one, an already dipped dip. A re-dip so to speak. It may go by many names, but I scoured my trash can for this one. Although not the first time having done this, this time felt lower than low. I knew how bad I wanted to be quit yet I searched the trash like a junkie searching for a vein. I believe it was this day that I truly realized the depth of my addiction.

I survived work that day and returned to my couch. I had the house to myself as the wife and kids went to go and do something fun without me. She knew how miserable I was acting and she knew that I would have declined to do anything anyway. She didnÂ’t bother to ask. I slept for hours and ate everything in sight. Everything was a trigger. I felt like my world was caving in. My mind was racing and my body was kicking and screaming. At one point I fell to my knees and sobbed, crying out for help. I knew I was gonna fail anyway so why not just fail right now. I thought that I could end this misery RIGHT NOW by running to the store and getting my dip. I didnÂ’t. Instead I decided to turn on my computer and Google nicotine withdrawal. That is where this story begins. That is the moment that this quit had a fighting chance.

Today should be my 365. But it isnÂ’t. I cannot count from the day that I valiantly and triumphantly dumped my can in the toilet. I must count that last dip on the way to work. The one from the garbage can. It will be this dip that I force myself to remember on the anniversaries of my quit and during those times in the future that I might be tempted. It was the worst dip that I ever took. It was the one that I didnÂ’t want. It was the one that I tried to fight. It was the one that made me realize that I was an addict and that I could not get free on my own. It was this dip that led me to you and this wonderful place called KTC.

I want to wish a Happy New Year to you and your families. I will be celebrating this one without dip for the first time in my adult life and for that I am grateful beyond belief.

If you are reading this and you are contemplating quitting. Get off the fence, make the decision, and join us. You will not regret it.

Its_Got2Happen Day 361

After 373 days I still read the intros every day. Because of posts like this. Thank you for the vivid reminder if where we were a year ago, a dark miserable place we put ourselves in that we had to fight... Kicking, screaming, and crying... To escape. But, one day at a time we did.

Be it today or in 3-4 more, congratulations, Ryan. Thanks for bringing me along for the ride. Happy new year.

[Its_Got2Happen]

365 days ago, on New Year’s Day, I dumped the last of my grizzly wintergreen into the toilet. I wish I could say my resolve was firm at that moment, but it wasn’t. The truth is I was too hung over to pack a dip that morning anyway. So I figured that I might as well try to “quit”, again, for the millionth time. Most of the day I thought about the tins out in my truck that certainly had enough left in them for a lip full. I also thought about all of the 4mg lozenges that were stashed everywhere from my previous quit attempts, (in my glove box, in my tool box and in my desk at work).

Somehow I made it through that day without ingesting nicotine. And truthfully that “day 1” and many of my previous day 1’s were not actually too bad. Day 2 and following was a whole other ball game. I remembered it well from previous “quits”. The whirlwind ensued and all of the symptoms of withdrawal began. As is common with addiction, this withdrawal began to dominate my every thought and my very existence. I remember bits and pieces of it, but mostly I remember spending about a week on the couch curled up in the fetal position. Somewhere around day 2 or 3, I did manage to clean out my truck and pitch the spit bottles and the rest of my nicotine paraphernalia. Oh how I wanted one of those lozenges at that time. But I knew deep down it was a hook. It was nicotine’s grip to ensure I didn’t stray too far from her. In my previous quits I would always use NRT, foolishly keeping myself addicted and prolonging my suffering. I didn’t know any better. But for some reason this time I didn’t do it.

Somewhere in the fog of day 3 or 4, I had to go to work for a few hours. I remember panicking and thinking there was no possible way I could function at work. I could not think straight, I could not see straight. It was this day that I found a spent dip and popped it in up for the ride to work. You know the one, an already dipped dip. A re-dip so to speak. It may go by many names, but I scoured my trash can for this one. Although not the first time having done this, this time felt lower than low. I knew how bad I wanted to be quit yet I searched the trash like a junkie searching for a vein. I believe it was this day that I truly realized the depth of my addiction.

I survived work that day and returned to my couch. I had the house to myself as the wife and kids went to go and do something fun without me. She knew how miserable I was acting and she knew that I would have declined to do anything anyway. She didnÂ’t bother to ask. I slept for hours and ate everything in sight. Everything was a trigger. I felt like my world was caving in. My mind was racing and my body was kicking and screaming. At one point I fell to my knees and sobbed, crying out for help. I knew I was gonna fail anyway so why not just fail right now. I thought that I could end this misery RIGHT NOW by running to the store and getting my dip. I didnÂ’t. Instead I decided to turn on my computer and Google nicotine withdrawal. That is where this story begins. That is the moment that this quit had a fighting chance.

Today should be my 365. But it isnÂ’t. I cannot count from the day that I valiantly and triumphantly dumped my can in the toilet. I must count that last dip on the way to work. The one from the garbage can. It will be this dip that I force myself to remember on the anniversaries of my quit and during those times in the future that I might be tempted. It was the worst dip that I ever took. It was the one that I didnÂ’t want. It was the one that I tried to fight. It was the one that made me realize that I was an addict and that I could not get free on my own. It was this dip that led me to you and this wonderful place called KTC.

I want to wish a Happy New Year to you and your families. I will be celebrating this one without dip for the first time in my adult life and for that I am grateful beyond belief.

If you are reading this and you are contemplating quitting. Get off the fence, make the decision, and join us. You will not regret it.

Its_Got2Happen Day 361