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Brian B Mending the Fences 2018
Brian B Mending the Fences 2018
Wow...5 months. When I look back over the last 5 months, it is pretty remarkable I stayed quit and I am actually pretty proud of myself. It has been a challenging 5 months. Instead of thinking how I managed without using tobacco, I prefer to wonder how I could have possibly made it through the last 5 months while poisoning myself.
The chronic, debilitating headaches that I have suffered since my youth have diminished dramatically in frequency and intensity. That alone is worth staying Quit. I don't think there is necessarily a greater clarity, but there is less distraction. Having a tobacco habit is like having a pet you don't want. You have to feed it, walk it, see to its medical needs, see to its environmental needs, and otherwise protect it and see to its welfare and success, regardless of how much you hate it or it hates you. It is a constant burden and requires more conscious thought to maintain than one might think.
I have shunned my demon, but he waits just out of my field of view, occasionally testing my resolve and looking for soft, sentimental spots to exploit.
This past weekend I took my daughter to Claytor Lake in western VA. I walked into a small country store to buy snacks. If you have never been in a small country store, there is no way to really describe it. The counter area is a riot of color and activity with items the urbane and suburban might never consider purchasing...all within arms reach of the cashier, usually the proprietor or a close family member.
It might have a jar of pickled pigs feet, live worms, rolls of fly paper and many other items that are just not thought of in most peoples' daily lives.
What is universally prominent in these displays, in the deep bosom of rural America, is an extraordinary collection of tobacco products that are not cigarettes. I, personally, have never smoked a cigarette. In other words, these displays were designed specifically to seduce...me.
There are tubes of snuff (actual snuff that is snorted), chewing tobacco (loose leaf and plug), there are rolling papers (not what you think...these folks are more likely to actually put tobacco in them than anything else), pipe tobacco and various accoutrement for the use of said pipe, There is every sort of lighter you can imagine, but what nearly drowns out all of this and more, is the prominence...the supremacy, of the smokeless tobacco offering. I call it an offering because it is shrine-like. To one who does not dip, it would be comical, if he noticed, but most people don't because it does not apply to them. We filter the impertinent.
I am standing before this shrine, built for me, and I am overwhelmed by the extraordinary variety. Since the inception of my quit, many new and "improved" options have come to market. Wintergreen, mint, unflavored, cherry, and other flavors are neatly categorized and arranged and further broken down by long-cut, fine-cut, straight-cut, and pouch.
I didn't want a dip, but I felt absolutely compelled to buy a can. Luckily there was a bit of a line, (unusual for this type of store), and the people on both sides of the counter were talking animatedly and at length about things unrelated to the exchange at hand and without concern for those in line, (not at all unusual for this type of store). In the city this would be considered rude. Out here, it would be considered rude to consider it rude. What it did was give me an opportunity to analyze and come to terms with the freak show that was occurring between my ears. I stood there patiently and went from "Oooh...they have a new flavor" or "Wow...these guys have started doing this" to "get thee behind me Satan" to "I wonder if pouches are actually any less bad for you than un-pre-packaged dip" to "Are you freaking INSANE? Knock it off!". All while maintaining the outward composure of what is expected of a southern gentleman conducting public affairs.
By the time it was my turn to chat cheerily with the complete stranger behind the counter, the urge had passed. It wasn't really a deep, urgent need that came spewing forth to claim dominion, it was a more subtle attack. My demon is maturing. It is trying to quietly flirt with me...when it can catch me in the near-hypnotic state associated with mundane, routine tasks.
Anyway...one more day down, and the fight continues. The battles aren't really like bloody, trench warfare anymore. It is more like mending fences. You ride the fence presuming everything is as it should be, but then you come across a breach in the wire. You can either go through and abandon your responsibility and leave your figurative livestock to their own devices and defenses, or you mend the fence. I am mending fences.