Brain keeps throwing things at me, giving me reasons to cave. It's really annoying. I want to be able to justify cigars. It's not that I want a cigar right the fuck now. Don't get me wrong I do want a cigar right the fuck now. But I keep thinking if I stay quit if I am zero tolerance to myself I wont be able to smoke a cigar when my nephew is born, then that makes me think what about When I have a son. When that son kills his first buck, I wont be able to smoke a cigar with him for the first time. Wont be able to smoke with him when he graduates. at his wedding day. when he has a son.
I want those memories badly. Those are some great memories I have smoking a cigar with my dad, sitting around the campfire, talking about the hunt. My brain wants me to think I can't have those memories without cigars in them. Why can't it be whiskey? Why can't instead of breaking out a handful of 50$ cigars I dont just break out a bottle of high quality whiskey?
I dont know why I want those but I am worried about those days. I'm terrified of the cave, I'm terrified of waking up at day one in my 40's... when the desire for those memories are too strong on a drunken night of celebrating. It makes me sad to not be able to have those memories in my future, how I ruined the possibilities of those memories by putting that poison in my lip. If I could have just left it to a cigar here and there I wouldn't be where I sit today.
Weird head space today. Anyway...just wanted to type out the thoughts maybe I can leave them on paper. All these hypotheticals trying to get me to cave. If we wanna go hypotheticals lets say I have a son and I dont cave...lets say he gets married and I stay clean. Lets say he has a son...wouldn't it be better for me to see the memories he gets to make with his own son then make some romanticized unimportant memories that realistically are just mind games my nicotine obsessed brain is trying to mind fuck me with...better than laying under the dirt and him saying to his son "Well this is your grandpa, boy I remember all those fun nights sitting around a campfire smoking cigars...wasn't so fun at the hospital" Like I said weird head-space. Not caving, not even close to caving. Just...dunno...trapped in my own fucking head.
Can't believe I'm just now getting around to reading the intro threads.
That last one is a powerful statement and a tough read.
You are brutally honest in your posts and it edifies my own quit. I'm 55 days today but I 'feel' a cave perpetually lurking around the corner.
I've got a piece of land as well (16 acres and over 6,000 feet of fencing, a 20 stall rapidly deteriorating horsebarn, and a 50 year old house that needs to be gutted and redone.)
My and my little girls have been clearing fence line a little bit a time, always with daddy and that can in the truck and bulge in his lip. Wish I could get those days and memories as a do over and erase the tobacco.
Keep posting regularly, it's therapeutic to yourself and me.
I appreciate you doing it.
