Today marks 100 days quit. 100 grueling days of no nicotine. The first week was nothing, a few cravings the first couple of days, nothing drastic. Day 10 rolls around and I find myself wide awake at 2 am begging for sleep. When I did sleep, I would sweat like no ones business. It took everything I had for the next 60 days to not throw in the towel and pack one in. Thankfully I had my fair share of people to talk to, like Athan, Chris2alaska, and JGromo. My fuse was shorter than a midget wrestler, I broke a knuckle in a rage, But I had brothers here who talked me off of the ledge when I was teetering.
8 days into my quit I had the moment, the moment that brings it all together. Here is an explanation of that:
“Its about this time every day since I entered my first day of quit, I get reflective of the last 11 years of nicotine me. Today is a little different because I think I have reached a “zen” moment. As in “realized what made me start”, When I was a kid I begged my parents to quit smoking. Every time I saw them put one of those cancer sticks in their mouth and would give them a rash of shit for the full 5-7 minutes of that cigarette. They didnt stop. I would get horrible sinus infections, and the doctors would ask if they both smoke in the house, yes, they didnt stop. My dad mentioned one day that it helped him stay relaxed, <– this memory was what made me start. I guess until now I blocked out all the other bad memories. What made me scared to stop once I started? My dad quit smoking Jan 1. 1999, and I remember him going through the withdrawals, and how much he used to yell and scream and bitch and cuss.. at me. It got so bad that first year that I would find any way not to be around him, I stopped fishing, hunting, going to pawn shops, projects around the house, because I couldn’t go through the torture. As a young adult I worked in the refineries, around a bunch of dippers, I couldn’t quit with all of the temptation. Then eventually I became a father myself, promised my wife i would quit, did the patches all 5 steps or whatever, got to the last step and couldn’t take the final step of 0 nicotine and picked up that can in secret for months. Then we got in a fight and as a final low blow I told on myself. Boy, i’ve never felt so low in my life. I tried cold turkey for months, fell off the wagon a few more times before I decided to join here and got some actual help. Now the memory of my fathers withdrawals will help me not be like that, and I can come here and vent with guys who have been/are in the same spot as me. Its comforting that there is a support system for dip, since there is no med that can cure it or treat it. We just have to embrace the mental hell that is withdrawal and choke it the fuck out, gouge out the eyes of that nic bitch and hope one day she can no longer see us.”
From that point I was more determined than ever to get through this. I have made it this far, the first indication that I made it through the hard part was in April 11th when I drove from SA to Houston/Galveston with no more than 1 stick of gum, then a 7 day cruise with 5 more sticks of gum. Also I found a way to post roll all 7 days through my May brother MPG(aka mpgzooch.)
To all my May Zombie brothers: With all of the MIQ’s and Bans, We have made it through the first of many battles in this war of attrition. We have come out stronger, wiser, and some of us fatter. There are many battles ahead, and I will gladly fight with you guys any day.