UPDATE: I caved. See post at bottom.
My Father told me about a year ago that all addicts are liars. It was in reference to a close family member who was wrestling with a drug addiction. He didn't know then, and he doesn't know now that I'm addicted to cope, but I was struck hard that night with the realization that I lie and scheme 24/7 in order to get my fix. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of my teeth hurting when I drink hot or cold fluids because my gum lines have receded so much. I'm sick of looking at my mouth in the rear view mirror and wondering if I'd be able to tell if I had cancer. I'm sick of wasting evening after evening waiting for my beautiful, loving, wife to go to bed so I can sneak out and by dip.
I'm worried because I feel like my story is a little atypical. I don't do a can every two days. It's not uncommon for me to go a whole three or four days, sometimes even a week without a lip in. But I binge. I'll go through a whole can of cope in two hours, six pouches at a time, and then I'll drive right back to the gas station and buy another can. If I'm super busy or traveling and I can't dip, sometimes I don't even miss it. But the minute I try to relax or unwind, I get antsy. I've convinced myself many times that I'm not addicted after I've gone a week with no dip. Then I'll allow myself one last dip. And you all know how that ends.
A small part of me deep down inside doesn't even want to quit. I want to be free for a hundred days so that I can claim the chains of bondage can be broken, and then I'll have an occasional dip once a month or so. You know, in a controlled manner. I'm fighting to kill that desire even now, on day one. I think I'll start strong. My issues are going to come one week in when I start to tell myself, "see? You were never really that addicted. Just go ahead and have one can a month. You've got it all under control now." This is going to be rough.