I am Rob and I am a nicotine addict. I get to say that about once a day now. I started saying it about 12 years ago when I found a Nicotine Anonymous meeting 2 blocks from where I lived. It was in a funny part of town and it was very apparent that the folks there with a LOT of clean time wanted to help me and love me. The L word…it just keeps coming up with me and a lot of addicts that I know. We go towards the light. We addicts move towards love.
I could not keep a quit and I ran. I felt that I needed to be worthy of the love that was offered. I would get a quit and go to meetings or catch a group online and then run again when I lost my quit.
Help was offered, the love was there.
Nicotine tortures us all eventually. The longer we use, the worse it gets. I had tried everything to moderate my use and the slow, inevitable slide into oblivi-on. There is an asterisk on my timeline when I held my mother’s hand as she died of lung cancer, then walked outside and used.
Used. I am a drug addict, you see. I don’t look like one or act like one but I really am. I am just a scared child in-side, seeking hope and light - and love.
I would torture myself sometimes when I lost a quit – frequently, actually. And I would try again. But things changed a bit and I began to look for a glimmer of understanding in each lost quit. There were lots of glimmers. With a death grip on my HP, I once made it to 6 months before losing a quit. It was three years before I was able to try again.
I was still afraid of you, even though you wanted to help me. Trust issues are so common for us addicts. It was really desperation and that low tide that brought me to the point where I was willing to accept help from someone who had been as low as I was now. There was light and hope that I saw in the group of addicts who came to a meeting because of me. You were there because of me, and the love that I felt so many years ago was still there. This time I am ready to receive your help.