"Holy Hell!" The only thought that comes to my mind right now. I stumbled on to this site a few years back and gave it some consideration. Sadly, my fiance left me soon after, and well, we all know how that goes. Quitting wasn't an option then. When I ventured back to this place tonight, I could feel my stomach turning to knots just reading the symptoms. The instinct to reach into my pocket to make sure my can of dip was still there kicked in. My hands have become machines designed to weigh out a can by the simple touch. Just one grasp and I can tell how long I have until I dig in my console or make another trip to the store, sometimes well past midnight. Cans clutter my bedroom trashcan, bottles slide back and forth in my truck, my pants all tarnished with a ring of death in a side or back pocket. It is my security blanket, my make a bad day good, my good morning and good night. I feel anxious just considering the idea of quitting again. Picture Golem from the lord of the rings as I hover over my can, caressing it, quietly whispering "Precious." I am a man controlled by a monster. Dear God, I'm gonna need help. 23 years old, high blood pressure already (decent shape and great eating habits), 1.5 cans a day.
I hate the can already, I hate that I can't leave the house without it. In fact I am more apt to leave the house without pants on, than to leave without sufficient supply of dip. I live with dippers. Dip is a social event, campfires, hunting, fishing, riding down the road, watching tv after work, We DIP. How in the world do I surpass this stuff? It almost seems impossible and I haven't even started.
HELP
