Well, it’s been quite some time since I’ve written one of my notorious sermons on KTC, but my June ’14 (June (Poon) Quit Saloon) encouraged me to post something about some recent events. As a prologue, I have been quit 1391 days after chewing Kodiak, 1 + can a day for over 28 years. We’re coming up on 4 years of nicotine sobriety.
I have largely been free from temptation after getting through all the “firsts” after quitting, I have this firm belief that if you talk a lot about quitting and keep just building a hatred towards it, that you will build a nice firm foundation of hate and the romanticizing of the “good old days” wouldn’t be there. That method has really worked well for me. I blast cavers. I have 0 tolerance policy for it. That is to protect myself and the others around me in their quit. We are such pussies with this stuff that tolerance, leads to permission. “He caved and came back so I could probably do that to.” It sounds childish, but if you’re honest, it’s childish statements like that from the devil of nicotine that kept us in bondage all those years. I hate nicotine. I hate cavers. I hate everything that has to do with big tobacco. I hate half-assed efforts. It has kept me quit. I strived to meet other quitters. I’ve gone to quit meets. I still post on other groups pages. I encourage new quitters. The point is, I have devoted myself to ridding this awful addiction, and I saw the guys sitting at 1000 days doing this kind of work so that’s what I did too. It works.
So cut to December of this year. I enter a period of time where stress is at its all-time high. Every part of my life seems to be getting stretched. On top of that, I was about to turn 50. The big 5-0. Definitely an old man at the club. I all of a sudden get a huge case of the fuck-its. I mean, all the way around, I’m just giving myself permission left and right to say and do things I normally wouldn’t. Afterall, I’m almost 50. I deserve that. I’ve earned that…. Right? December 10th comes along, and it’s the day of my big b-day party. All my rowdy friends from my life show up. A lot of them chew. Everywhere I turn, someone’s got a dip in. But I had a sense, that there would be great temptation to have “just one” so I bought a can of fake and kept it in my pocket, just in case. Sure enough, at some point in the evening when there was more than a few Pendleton’s down me, I’m chatting with my fraternity brothers, one takes a dip and I think, fuck it…I’m having one too. That’s the moment. Instead of reaching for his can, I reached in my pocket and popped in a fake.
What is my point? Well, lots of people fade away after a while…some, super solid in their quits. Chewie asked me at the PA quitters meet last summer how I was doing and I told him, “man I am straight and narrow. I don’t even think about it or have dip dreams or anything. It is just gone from my life. But I’m still super worried about a case of the fuck-its, so I keep posting.” I had no idea then what a premonition that was, but I knew myself well enough to know that I am not immune from a case of the fuck-its and no one else I know is either. So I keep posting. I keep posting daily. If I didn’t, I would be knuckles deep into about my 50th can of Kodiak by now. I couldn’t even have one fake dip…I had like 5 of them!
Post daily my friends. None of us are cured. It’s all just in remission, for today. Tomorrow, I’ll need another dose of quit from my friends and it will be in remission again.
I’m still so grateful for all of you. Your passion and endurance, courage, strength and mission to be better men has made me start my 50th year right. Thank you friends!