I am so sick and fucking tired of hearing stoppers claim they just want to feel “normal”. Some of them have barely even stopped, and already this want of “normalcy” has overwhelmed them and driven them back to their drug.
Let me tell you what I remember when I was normal:
I was a 270 pound piece of shit douchebag.
I sat around in my office and my home without any energy to move. When my boys (2 and 6 at the time) asked me to play outside, I had to throw in a lip full of junk. I couldn’t “run around” with them because I would get all winded, hot, and my head felt like I was going to stroke out. This was all preceded by some of the junk (I willingly put in my mouth) breaking free from my lip causing me to choke at some point and cough until little spots appeared before my eyes. I would pull it out of my lip, disgusted at me and it. Ten minutes later, I’d go back for another.
I was not content leaving my can somewhere on the counter or refrigerator. I needed to have it on my body at all times. If I was wearing sweat pants or loose fitting pants, my can would fall out onto the floor where me and my sons were playing. My six year old would pick this off the ground, sometimes open it, and would ask me what it was. I would blow off his question by answering “adult stuff”.
I would go through a drivethrough with my boys, and get a can. Everytime, my oldest would ask me what Skoal Straight was. Again, “Adult Stuff”. Not only did I waste a bunch of money on my addiction, I would buy them Bug Juice’s (children’s sugar flavored crack water) and make them insane. I bought my oldest a can of shredded beef jerky once, and he promptly came home and packed in front of my wife.
But I was normal because I had my drug.
I would sleep in a chair at night despite my wife begging me to come to bed. Sometimes, I would oblige her by spitting out my drug, brushing my teeth, fucking like a jack rabbit with a match in its mouth, and quickly retire back to my chair. I seriously wondered how exactly to ninja in the nic bitch into our bedroom.
This last chew was so important to me that most nights, I would stuff my face and fall asleep. At some point, I would choke because I would wake up out of breath with my heart racing. I would alleviate this by cleaning off my face, putting in a fresh chew, and staying up the rest of the night. Sometimes, I would take it out of my mouth while I was 90% asleep and stuff it down the cushion. When we would clean under the chair, there would be piles and piles of little brown turds falling out of the chair and laying underneath. My wife’s face would turn beet red when she’d find this.
But I was fucking normal because I had my drug
My health was failing badly. My blood pressure was starting to skyrocket, and I was showing more and more signs of oncoming diabetes. I was also sleeping horribly (probably some sleep apnea in there as well) and that led to me being sick quite often. I heated up like a furnace post meals, and would stuff food into my face so quickly I never realized how much I was actually eating. You see, I had a “time window” to finish my meal before my body rejected food instead for my drug.
I chose this fucking fucking drug over my sons, my wife, and my life.
HOW THE FUCK IS THIS “NORMAL”??
When times are good, we practice for the bad. When times are bad, we lean on our instincts and our tools we’ve learned. You weren’t a porn star philantrophist playboy that had the world by the short and curlies when you were using. You were a pathetic addict with high self esteem.
We choose our own paths in this life.
I choose to quit.