I was 15 yrs old, sharing a can of Skoal with my best bud Steve. Good bonding experience. Steve's parents didn't care that he dipped. The local gas station didn't care that we were 15 either. Easy to buy. My parents were divorced, and Dad would pick me up for visitation every other weekend. Dad was a cowboy. The real type of cowboy. Ran away when he was 16 and worked on ranches in WY. Even had a buckle he won at a rodeo. When he found out I was dipping, he was mighty proud. His son might become a cowboy yet. A couple months later, Mom spotted me spitting while I was doing some "yard work." Her only was response was that she wasn't going to buy it for me. Don't remember how I bought it, but it wasn't long and I was doing 3 cans of Cope per week.
And that is how it began. A short 29 years later, I am writing to a forum because I am addicted. I even quit a few times before. The first time was in boot-camp. Our first weekend of liberty half of us were making a bee line to the gas station to buy a tin. How stupid. The nicotine was gone but we thought we needed it. I even recall saying I ought to leave it alone. Then there was a second time. Made it a whole 7 weeks. During that time I kept thinking, "when I quit this stuff, I should be able to have a dip every now an then." Guess I wasn't too serious about quitting. Then I heard about this miracle drug called Chantix. I was off of the dip for 3 whole months. Stopped taking the miracle drug. Feeling good about myself. Then on a motorcycle trip back from Sturgis, stopped at a local gas station. "Just one" I said to myself. Apparently the monkey that was on my back, still had a grip on my shoulder. He had no problem latching back on.
I have seen other types of addicts. I dated a recovering alcoholic / drug addict. A dear friend is a recovering alcoholic. I worked the streets, and came across addicts all the time. "Why don't they just give it up" I would ask myself. Look at them, destroying their bodies, their families, their jobs. "Can't they see what they are doing?" I looked in the mirror. My addiction isn't hurting anyone. It's just an annoyance.
Now I am 44 years old. I figure I have lived close to half of my life. (well if that doesn't f'n suck) I have allowed nicotine to control my life for the past 29 years. Why in the hell would I let a chemical control me? I am the same as a heroin addict or alcoholic. Over the past several years I have felt the effects of the nicotine on my body. Heart palpitations, indigestion, heart burn, anxiety, brown teeth, receding gum line. And I let it continue to hurt me. It has held me back in social situations. The brown teeth, and cope breath were not too appealing to most women. It's hard to be a smooth talker when you have a lip full of shit. I can not think of a single situation in which this crap has ever benefitted me. Maybe it helped bring my dad and I a little closer. But, I've accomplished a hell of a lot of other stuff that he would have been proud of. You notice I speak of my dad in the past tense. Yep, he died of cancer. The Dr. said it had nothing to do with the chew. But he couldn't attribute it to anything else either.
I am addicted. It has controlled me. It has destroyed me. It has held me back.
This is it. I am quit. I will not let a chemical control the second half of my life. I sure as hell am not going to let it shorten the second half of my life. I acknowledge that it is I, and only I, that has control over my body. I will live the rest of my life without the nic bitch. She is dead and gone. This is Crick, and I am quit.
