I am not a sharer by nature. I find it hard to talk about myself. I don’t wear my emotions on my sleeve. You’ll never hear me say, with any seriousness, “Woe is me.” I believe a man is defined by his actions and those he keeps in his company. By this measure alone, I have lived an inadequate existence. Don’t get me wrong. I believe I’m a good person and a real nice guy. I’m surrounded by some of the greatest people and loving family members a man could wish for. I have very strong principles that I have exteneded to all aspects of my life, save one. I’m addicted to dipping like a fish needs water.
One hundred days ago, I didn’t lie…unless it was about dipping. One hundred days ago, I didn’t hide anything…unless it was about dipping. One hundred days ago, if I said it would be done it would…unless it was about quitting dipping. One hundred days ago, I wouldn’t do a damn thing to make my son think less of me as a mentor/role-model/father…unless it was about hiding my habit. One hundred days ago, my wife knew everything about me…unless there was a tin of Kodiak/Grizzly/Cope under my driver’s seat, in my desk drawer, or under everything in my underwear drawer.
I have stopped before, but I have never quit. I know I haven’t been an overwhelming presence on KTC. And I know I haven’t leaned on my fellow quitters as much as others. That is me. I internalize things. I overthink things. I do things on my own. I connive and use and justify or procrastinate, and I dip. When someone on here caves, we ask three things: 1, What happened? 2, Why? And 3, What will you do different this time? All these questions apply to my quit.
- I dipped because I was selfish and weak.
- I dipped because I let my habit dictate my behavior, and it was easier to slip into ninja-mode and live in shame on my own than it was to quit and be the man I could be.
- I signed up with a bunch of Jackwagins, made my wifea part of the process, and, when my thoughts strayed to how easy a cave could be, I imagined what my toddler son would look like with a cancer-turd in his lip.
I think back to about a month before my quit. I spent a long weekend with some of my oldest friends in a cabin in Michigan. I told my wife I only dipped once that weekend. I dipped with impunity. Knowing she would never hear the truth from my friends, I had carte blanche. This will be a revelation for her. Even in my quit, I have not admitted this to her. She will read this. I have lied to her before. I want this to be the last lie she ever hears from me. Baby, I’m sorry doesn’t cut it. But I can’t, in good conscience, be the man I’m declaring I am, without telling you this now.
Today, I am quit. Tomorrow, I will wake up and declare I am quit again. I will be the man I want to be. With you and Man-Child as my witness, I will wake up every morning for the rest of my days and say the same.