For 27 years I have reveled in Copenhagen Snuff. I absolutely loved the stuff. I started when I was 14 and never looked back. In my college football days I would routinely pack a cat turd in the side of my custom mouth piece I had cut to make room for chew. I would even sleep with a dip in for a few years. A can a day for years until I got laid off in 2009 and started working outside on heavy equipment and it escalated to 2 cans a day. So I decided that 2 cans a day was ridiculous and stopped for a couple months in 2012. I think that is where I started to change. I remember telling people how I rued the day I started back up anytime it came up in conversation. Then a couple of years later I’m helping my dad (life long smoker) move a piece of furniture that didn’t weigh much but was awkward enough that it took two people to carry it. He’s sweating profusely and can’t hardly lift it. Says he hasn’t been feeling good. After 3 or 4 weeks of not feeling good he decides to go to the doctor and they tell him the reason he’s not feeling good is because he had a mild heart attack in the last few months. That really got me thinking about what I was doing to myself. A year later one of my best friends at work who has dipped less than me has a piece of his cheek the size of a 50 cent piece where it had turned solid white excised and sent to the lab. Now I’m really getting worried. Then I start have issues with heartburn, sore gums, and cheeks changing color that when I decided it’s time.
So I put it down on a Sunday night. I knew what I was in for and I was determined to do it this time. I went 21 days on mine own before I stumbled onto KTC at work one day. I thought “What the hell? Can’t hurt” so I signed up. It was the best thing I could have done at the time. I was winning the battle everyday and never really had to much trouble walking the path until life happened. I had knee surgery. Laid up feeling less than my best. A week later my father in law passes away. Now Mrs. Bgbdbrd my cornerstone of support is a hot mess. A few weeks after that she has surgery. I would love to set here and tell you all that I would have made it anyway but I know better. Life kicks you in the balls every other day and usually below the belt. If it wasn’t for May 17 I wouldn’t be standing here now. May 17 was the perfect storm for me. The right guys at the right time for the right reasons. I couldn’t have landed in a better group for me. I needed to rage and I think we got that out and then some. You guys got me to where I needed to be when I couldn’t do it on my own and for that I’m forever in your guys debt.
I would like to thank the vets that supported us and kept posting support through the fog and F-5 shit storms. I’m sure it got tiring.
I have always said that this place is steroids for your quit. If stop taking them your quit muscles shrink. So I will still be here posting with all of you who remain. Life will happen again and it doesn’t matter if Aunt Beatrice’s cat gets hit by a rabid weedeater or whatever else it is that happens. I will be here posting with you Magnificent motherfuckers of May 17.