I found this community at a low point in my addiction. Every night, I’d lie in bed with my gums inflamed, asking myself what I was doing — why I was hurting myself day after day. I knew I was stealing time, both now and in the future, from myself, my wife and my kids.
It finally clicked for me on April 21, 2025. I left for work, stopped at my usual gas station, and grabbed a fresh roll of Zyns. As I sat at my desk, my gums and cheeks aching from one after another, I thought about my family and knew something had to change. I couldn’t keep doing this. That night when I got home, I threw it all away — the unopened roll from the gas station, the cans squirreled away in my closet, the stash buried under tools and gloves in the garage. Every hiding place emptied, every excuse gone. That was the start of my quit.
The next day was brutal. My mind was made up, but it wasn’t prepared for the fight ahead. The cravings hit hard. My head pounded. And that relentless voice in my head — the nic bitch — refused to let up. The 45-minute drive home was one of the hardest of my life. I spent most of it repeating: “You can do this. YOU WILL DO THIS. YOU WILL QUIT THIS.” Tears streamed down my face as I fought every urge to pull off and cave. That was my first victory. The next day would be another.
That’s when I found this community. I knew I couldn’t do it alone, and once I landed in my group, my resolve strengthened. I felt different — like I was exactly where I needed to be. Here, I could see others succeeding, match my will against theirs, and find people who understood exactly what I was going through. It showed me I wasn’t alone. And that made all the difference.
The early days of my quit were a mix of deep introspection and getting to know the people in my group. Both were essential. I shared my story, my struggles, and my fears. And I listened. The more I gave, the more I got back. That’s when I branched out — connecting not just within my group, but with others who had already walked the path, and with those aiming to better themselves beyond nicotine. For the first time in years, I felt free from that voice in my head — finally working to become the man I wanted to be, not the one I was ashamed of when I arrived.
About two weeks into my quit, I finally told my wife what I’d done — that I’d quit for good, that this was the last time. I was nervous, ashamed, and half-expecting disappointment. But instead, she looked at me, smiled, and said, “I’m proud of you.” That moment mattered more than I realized. Her acceptance and support gave me strength. I was still quitting for myself, but knowing she was behind me gave me real accountability. And on the hard days, I’d remember that conversation and refuse to let her and my sons down.
Now, here I stand, 100 days free and proud of who I am. Some days still test me. But every free day is worth the fight. The energy, the clarity, the freedom from hiding the addiction — it’s priceless. I’m healthier than I’ve been in years, happier than I thought possible, and nearly a thousand dollars richer from no longer being a slave to nicotine. But more than anything, I’ve reclaimed my identity. I’ve accepted that I’m an addict, and more importantly — that I’m in control of it now.
To all the bad ass quitters — EdT, Candoit, my fellow July Bastards, and the whole KTC family — thank you. You made this place real for me, kept me accountable, and showed me what it means to fight together and support one another.
To anyone reading this: you are not alone. You can do this. YOU WILL DO THIS. Find your mantra. Find your reason. And dive headfirst into this process, because the more you give, the more you’ll take away. The support, wisdom, and strength you need are here — but you have to commit. Be open. Share your journey.
As a lifelong Michigan Wolverines fan, I’ve always held close one simple motto: “Those who stay will be champions.” And it fits this place perfectly. Those of us who stay, who fight through the cravings, lean on each other, and refuse to cave — we become champions. Not just of our addiction, but of our own lives.
So stay. Stay in the fight. Stay with your brothers and sisters. And become a champion — one day at a time.
https://www.killthecan.org/those-who-stay-will-be-champions/
