Hey guys (and gals?),
So, I've been a secret stalker of this site for about six months now. Lots of good advice, and it's nice to know that the members are ready to provide tough love. I'm gonna need it.
My story: I'm a born and bred Texan. That right there is enough to make you an addict from birth. My grandfather, who is a true Texas cowboy and cattle rancher, is 85 and has dipped since he was 6 years old. Still has all his teeth, still tough as nails, still throwin hay and riding cutting horses. Needless to say, I grew up riding around in trucks with dip cups, dust, sweat, and lots of true Texas manliness.
For me, dipping and manhood went hand-in-hand.
I took my first dip when I was 9, when my cousins and I stole a can of grandpa's Grizzly wintergreen. I definitely threw up, and stayed away... at least for a while.
But like I said, I grew up in Texas, which meant playing baseball and sports, and acting tough for the ladies by shooting guns and flexing biceps. Unfortunately, that also meant dipping. I started dipping in the summer of 2000, when I was 14 years old.
See, it was easy to get dip. Every dad had a can or a log in his truck. The gas station clerks would sell it to you if you said "Grandpa sent me to pick up a few cans." And dip was cheap out in the country because you could escape the taxes of anti-tobacco Austin. It was a part of life, and I loved dipping.
This is addict speak, but I miss it right now. Dip is (was) my mistress. She's there when I need an escape, and she never demands I be anything I'm not. Addict speak, and it ends now.
My excuse (at least in my head) for dipping was always one of high moral ground. I'm not proud of it, but I will tell you because it will help me expose the fallacy of my thinking.
My excuses:
1) Good teeth and oral hygiene run in the family. My grandpa is 85 and doesn't have an issue, so neither will I.
2) I'm not like those rednecks you see on TV or in anti-tobacco literature. I have two degrees and speak multiple languages. I'm highly intelligent and read almost a book a day. I make good money, speak without an accent, have traveled the world, and studied at prestigious universities.
3) The only people who lose their teeth and get cancer are unhealthy idiots. I eat healthily, work out, take good care of my body, and don't do shitty stuff to it besides dipping. I'll be fine.
4) And many more excuses.
All of this is bullshit, I know. I sound like a prick, but I think all of us have these thoughts. It all boils down to "addict denial" and weakness.
I've been meaning and wanting to quit for years. Several times I "stopped" for a couple of months, but I always sabotaged myself.
I've been dipping about a can a day of Skoal or Copenhagen pouches for almost 15 years. Now that tobacco is pretty damn expensive, let's calculate the waste of money. $3 per can average (it's about $5.50 per can these days) x 15 years x 365 = $16,425. This doesn't include all of the cigarettes I've smoked in my life, but let's stick to the dip.
Recently, within the last 6 months, my mouth has been hurting. It has never hurt before while dipping, but now it does. My teeth feel weird, and my cheek and lips feel a bit numb. I've had some weird pain in my throat, almost as if there is a hard lump where there wasn't one.
Most of this, I think, is my paranoia of getting cancer. I think I'm scared to death of the damage I may have done, and it's manifesting itself with phantom pains. But, at the same time, this could be real.
So I quit. For good. Forever.
I'm a real asshole right now. I've had severe mood swings, emotional break downs, lots of crying, lots of anger, lots of scary somewhat suicidal thoughts. I know that this will pass, that the addiction will melt away with each day, but damn am I a fucking wreck right now. My mind is even making me hallucinate a little bit. I keep thinking a tooth is loose, even though it's not. I know that it's my mind playing tricks on me in order to get nicotine, but it's scary. I'm a weak sucker for nicotine and dip, but I will persevere.
Ok, sorry for the long ass introduction. This is my story, and this is my current situation. I'm quitting for good.
I just hope it's not too late for me. I guess it's time to head to the doctor to make sure.
Spencer
