Preface: this is going to be long and most likely boring. I'm writing it for ME for mostly therapeutic reasons. If you like it, lovely. If not, lick my balls, its my thread. LOL.
Loading up the family truckster and heading out on a week's vacation to Western Michigan tomorrow. Silver Lake, Muskegon, Traverse City, and Luddington are just a few stops team Diesel has planned. Wife and kids are pumped!!!
Big fucking deal right? A lot of people go on vacation.
Well...last year team Diesel went to Gaylord Michigan for a weeks vacation, I was about a month and a half quit then.
It was a fucking disaster of epic proportions. Because of me.
Riddled with depression and anxiety I DID NOT WANT TO GO. But on the advice of my shrink and counselor, they thought it would be good for me to get away for awhile maybe take my mind off my quitting. Plus I couldn't let my kids down. Not to mention my wife who works her ass off and loves to get away.
From jump street I was a mess. Could barely pull myself out of bed that morning to leave. Tears, fear, anxiety, anger, all ate at me like I never felt before. I had never been on vaction without my crutch. Half the fun of it used to be finding ways to sneak off and get my dip in. Fucking idiot.
I remember strapping on my seatbelt for the 3 hour drive, my shirt was DRENCHED in sweat and that shift from "park" to "drive" might as well have been a shift from "barely stable" to "hot fucking mess". Looking back however, there was one thing that bothers me more. There was no joy in the car. My wife knew I was a mess and she was probably going to have to hold me together (so much for getting away from work), and my kids who were 7 and 9 were not dumb. They saw me struggling that morning, they saw the tears and the anguish. I remember looking in the rear view mirror and seeing my daughter just staring down at her teddy bear like we were going to hell, not on a fun vacation.
When we got to the cabin (diesel rents cabins, he does not camp) I had an anxiety attack as soon as we walked in the door. Meanwhile my kids were running through the place checking out every room bouncing off the wall with excitement. They saw there was a nice private beach across the street and started the "can we go? can we go?" chants. My wife looked to me. As in the past I would have been in that water before the kids. This time I was in the fetal posistion on the couch, barely able to move. In one of most cowardly moves I've ever made I told my own kids "I don't feel like it, Mom will take you". In shock my wife said, "FINE, do you think you can handle unloading the car at least??!!". Turns out I couldn't. I just sat there on that couch wondering how the hell I was going to make it a week without my dip.
I will spare you the details of what that week held. Lets just say it was not pretty. I was useless. I BEGGED my wife to let me buy a can, and that would make me "fun" again. She did not buy it and rightfully said no each time. I also had to make an emergency call to my therapist on day two as my brain was completely fucked up. I even considered checking myself into a hospital at one point I was such a fucking mess. I was a walking anxiety attack and no amount of medicine seemed to help.
We went to a lot of different places on that trip. My wife was determined to show my kids a good time, God bless her sole.
I was a fucking anchor they were dragging around.
I remember one BEAUTIFUL day, my wife drove us to a really neat putt putt golf/ go kart place in the morning. I didn't even play fucking putt putt or drive the go karts. I sat in the snack bar area like a fucking moron, watching my wife and kids play putt putt golf and ride go karts...I couldn't even get up. Talk about a fucking LOSER.
After that she drove us to Otsego Lake State Park. Beautiful day, beautiful water, beautiful beach, and my beautiful kids were in the water BEGGING ME to come in...I could not. I was in the fetal posistion biting my knee. My wife was exhausted and looked at me with disgust for the first time since I had quit. She pulled herself up off her towel, where she should have been napping and getting some well deserved rest, and headed out to the water to swim with the kids. I told her, "I'm sorry honey, I promise next year ill be better". She said "You better, you fucking ruined this vacation for all of us". Talk about a dagger. Ouch.
Well...here it is "next year" and although I am feeling a tad anxious at the memories of last year (part of my lovely ptsd), I am mainly looking to get some revenge on the nic bitch from last year.
I am seriously looking to fuck some shit UP. Like just fucking turn into some kind of have fun at all costs mad man and undo every wrong I made last year.
I believe I have to "game" to do that now.
To say I am in a different place from last year is to say that SHIT tastes a little bit different than Filet.
I must admit though, that while the events of last year have me ultra motivated, they have me a tad scared as well, like "what if I slip back into that place?"
But fuck it. I'm gonna try my best not to dwell on the past and focus in the now. I've gone 412 days without a flake of nicotine. Had some ups and downs, but I am honestly looking for these next 7 days to be 7 of the best fucking days yet.
Wish me....success. We know luck ain't got no place in here.
