The decision was whether to turn the key, or put the truck in gear. Turning the key meant that power to the engine would cease and the truck would shut down. Putting the truck in gear meant that it would leave the driveway, carry me to the gas station and put an end to anther miserable five day stretch of “trying to quit.”
There are a few key decision points that will largely determine the trajectory of one’s life. Everything that happens after, is fundamentally tied to that decision. May 6, 2016 was one of those points for me. In what was a break from a long established pattern of failure, I chose to turn the key.
With that decision to turn the key, came the acceptance that I was not strong enough to do this on my own. I won that battle, but there was no way I would be able to win every single one of the other battles that I knew would be coming. Somewhere in my brain was the knowledge that Kill The Can existed. I had found it years before, during some half-baked attempt to get my dipping under control. Of course, at the time, I knew that support groups were for weak losers and internet forums were for identity thieves.
Well on May 6, 2016, I was a weak loser, and figured anyone who wanted my identity could sure as hell have it. I created a KTC profile and posted an intro.
I’m not articulate enough to properly relate what happened over the following days and weeks. I was greeted with an entire world of support, advice, commiseration, distraction, and the tools for success. The KTC system fit my personality to a tee and I dove into the culture head first. Make your promise, keep your word – if you do that, you can’t possibly fail. I started forming friendships and digging myself into a hole that made caving so intolerable, the idea of it made me physically sick. Quitting was never easy, but by using the tools I found on this site, caving became so much harder.
I was fortunate that I was in a Quit Group that had some great personalities and some guys that would become true leaders at KTC and genuine friends. Although we went through the drama and pain that affects every group, and we certainly had our share of disappointment, our core group is still posting every damn day. We found a way to make quitting fun and to create an environment of respect, support and accountability. I’m grateful to everyone in August 2016 for making that a reality and proud of the meager role that I played in that success.
I’m also proud that I was able to give back to this site as both a HOF Conductor and a Moderator. I don’t think I’ve ever had as much fun writing as I did Conducting the October ’16 Dumpster Fire. That role solidified my quit during one of the most raw and difficult phases and gave me the chance to develop a friendship with FishFlorida, who I’ve met in person on several occasions and consider a genuine real life friend.
As a Moderator, my goal was to bring calm and reason to some very tense situations. I wanted to guide people to the path of success, while also steadfastly protecting the foundational values of the KTC system. I chose to take on several of the “hard cases” that inevitably arise from time to time. I spent many hours engaging with folks who, for whatever reason, could not get out of their own way and ultimately made choices that resulted with them losing access to this lifesaving resource. While I feel like I was able to make many positive contributions as a Mod, I took several of those losses personally. When the time came, I never disagreed with the decision to Ban, but I did feel like I shouldered some of failure for not being able to reach them. These disappointments, along with the general pace of my involvement at KTC and expansion of real life commitments, contributed to my needing to take a step back at the site.
Fortunately, there is no shortage of people who are willing to sacrifice their time and effort to maintain the lifesaving tools found at KTC. The Admins, Mods, Vets and everyday quitters who throw themselves out there with a well-timed text, or a drop everything phone call, or the harsh truth, just when it’s needed – the people that you quit with and fight with every damn day, are the lifeblood of this site. I can sit comfortably from the porch, knowing that this place remains in great hands.
Quitting is no longer hard. I can’t tell you the last time I legitimately struggled with my resolve to stay quit. I still occasionally get the passing crave, but it presents as more a fleeting memory and it’s quickly brushed aside. I’ve said this many times to new quitters, but it bears repeating: It does get easier. It is worth it. You can achieve it. I’m not special, I just used the tools around me to succeed.
On May 6, 2016, I turned the key. The engine shut off, I opened the door and went back inside. I didn’t go to the gas station and I didn’t fall back into that miserable pattern of failure. In the time since I made that decision, I married the most beautiful woman in the world, started my own business, bought a house, became a certified Firefighter & EMT and hopefully have in some small way, contributed to the success of a few of your quits.
Of course, it hasn’t all been sunshine and blowjobs. I’ve struggled with other things, like using food and alcohol as a crutch or allowing stress to seep into my personal life. Like everyone, I’ve had fights with my family, worried about finances and suffered disappointment. As a firefighter, I’ve confronted pain and death and loss. But even with the setbacks, I honestly don’t believe I would have been able to accomplish what I have, if I hadn’t turned that key.
In 1,000 days, I have not once missed roll. In fact, I think I can count on three fingers the times I hadn’t posted by 10am. It really isn’t that hard. I guarantee that it’s not because I have no life and nothing else to do. It’s because I value this freedom and I respect the system and the people that gave me the tools to achieve it. Roll is as much a part of my day as is brushing my teeth. It’s not a burden and it’s not a hassle. Trust me when I say that posting Day 1,000 is a damn honor. That number reflects every single battle that I had to win, every single time I might have thrown in the towel and let my addiction win.
In 1,000 days there have been too many to thank for me to begin to list them here. But I want to highlight my brothers of the August ’16 Traumatizers. We’ve celebrated milestones, fought, lost, celebrated marriages and births, comforted through pain, held each other accountable and picked each other up when we were down. Ultimately, we’ve stayed together and I couldn’t ask for a better set of anonymous internet creeps to fight this fight with. You are all my brothers.
The Admin/Mod team works tirelessly to make this site function. When you’ve seen the sausage being made, you know it’s not always going to be pretty. We don’t always agree how to do it, but we do always agree that we want what’s best for the site. Thank you for the often thankless work that you do.
And to the Quitter. The guy just trying to get through the next 5 minutes. Thank you for the strength you bring to this fight. You’re in the trenches and you’re winning. At some point, you will need to pick up the torch and light the way for the next generation of foggy SOBs, white-knuckling through that cold-turkey shit sandwich. We can get caught up in the interpersonal drama here sometimes, but at the end of the day we’re all fighting the same fight.
So that’s my speech. It’s long winded, but that’s ok. I was able to write this speech because on May 6, 2016 I turned that key, entrusted my life to some weird internet forum and never looked back. If you’re reading this and you’re struggling with how to quit, or thinking about giving up, just know that success is achievable and that you will never regret the freedom it brings. Post your promise, keep your word. It’s that simple.
