You know you need to quit. You've known for a while now.

You can see what crystal is costing you—the relationships damaged, the opportunities missed, the version of yourself that keeps slipping further away.

You've had moments of clarity where you think, "This is it. I'm done. Tomorrow I'm going to stop for real."

And then tomorrow comes, and you don't.

Or you make it a few days, maybe even a couple weeks, and then you're right back in it, wondering what the hell happened.

You start to think maybe you don't actually want to quit. Maybe you're not ready. Maybe you don't have what it takes.

But here's what I want you to understand: The reason you keep resisting that final decision to quit—the reason you know you should stop but can't seem to commit—isn't because you're weak or because you don't want it badly enough.

It's because your psyche knows exactly what quitting will require of you. And it's terrified.

After years of guiding gay men through chemsex recovery, I've discovered something counterintuitive: the more important something is to your soul's evolution, the stronger the resistance you'll feel toward doing it.

Let me say that again because it goes against everything we've been taught: The intensity of your resistance to quitting is directly proportional to how important quitting is for who you're meant to become.

You're not resisting quitting because recovery doesn't matter.

You're resisting because it matters more than almost anything else you could do.

And some part of you knows that the moment you truly commit—the moment you make that final decision—your entire life is going to have to change.

That's fucking terrifying. Of course you're resisting it.

Today, I want to help you understand why you resist quitting meth—or making any other change that would actually be good for you.

Because once you understand resistance, you can stop being confused and ashamed by it.

You can stop interpreting your resistance as evidence that you don't really want recovery.

You can see it for what it actually is: protective parts of you trying to keep you safe in the familiar, even if the familiar is destroying you.

1. The Bigger the Dream, the Bigger the Fear: Why Your Strongest Resistance Means You're Close

I want you to imagine something with me.

Picture your recovery—your transformation, your substance-free life—as a tree growing in the middle of a sunny field. It's strong, it's alive, it's reaching toward the sky (adapted from the teachings of Steven Pressfield). 

That tree represents who you're becoming.

Now here's what most people don't realize: The moment that tree starts growing, a shadow appears.

That shadow represents all the protective parts of you that will try to stop the tree from growing. Every doubt, every craving, every reason to give up—those are protective responses trying to keep you in what feels safe.

And here's the part that will change how you see your resistance: the bigger the tree grows, the bigger the shadow becomes.

The more important your recovery is to who you're meant to become, the more intense your protective responses will be. This is why:

• You've been "about to quit" for months but can't seem to take the final step
• You make it a few days and then something in you pulls you back
• The moment you consider getting serious about recovery, every reason NOT to suddenly seems completely valid
• You feel the pull to use most intensely when you're on the verge of real change
• You want to return to old patterns most when transformation is actually beginning

This isn't random.

This isn't you being weak or broken.

This is your nervous system recognizing that transformation is on the horizon and activating every protective mechanism it has to keep you "safe" in the familiar patterns, even if those patterns are destroying you.

I've watched men spend months circling around the decision to quit, getting close and then pulling back, getting close and then pulling back.

I've seen clients go three months without touching crystal, then have the most intense cravings the week they finally process their childhood trauma.

I've seen men stay off the apps for weeks, only to feel desperate to download them again the moment they start developing genuine intimacy with someone.

Traditional recovery would call this a "moment of weakness." I call it a moment of activation:

The protective parts of your subconscious know you're close to freedom, and they're doing what they've always done—trying to keep you safe by keeping you in what's familiar.

The resistance isn't a sign you're doing something wrong. It's confirmation you're doing something right.

When you find yourself resisting the decision to quit—when you keep telling yourself "tomorrow" or "after this one last time" or "I'm just not ready yet"—that resistance is actually evidence that your soul knows how important this decision is.

The resistance is proportional to the transformation waiting for you on the other side.

2. Stop Trying and Start Being: The Identity Shift That Changes Everything

I've worked with many men in recovery, and I've noticed something crucial: The ones who succeed don't just try to quit meth. They become people who don't use meth.

Can you feel the difference?

Trying to quit is transactional. It depends on circumstances, feelings, and motivation.

"I'll quit when I feel strong enough."

"I'll commit when I have more support."

"I'll stop after this party."

Trying is conditional. Trying leaves room for negotiation.

Being substance-free is identity. It's who you are, regardless of how you feel, regardless of circumstances, regardless of whether it's easy or hard. There's no negotiation with identity.

Let me show you what this looks like:

People who are trying take success and failure personally. They get one week substance-free and think, "I'm finally fixed!" They use once and think, "I'm hopeless, I'll never get this." Every day substance-free is a personal victory; every slip is a personal defeat. They're on an exhausting emotional rollercoaster that makes recovery unsustainable.

People who embody recovery don't take it personally. They understand recovery is a practice, not perfection.  Good days and hard days are just data points, not referendums on their worth. They can have an intense craving without making it mean something catastrophic about themselves. If they slip, they get back up without the drama of "starting over." They just continue being who they are—a person committed to substance-free living.

People who are trying wait to feel ready. They say, "I'll quit when I feel stronger." Or "I'll commit to recovery when I have more support." Or "I'll make that decision after I figure out what's causing me to use." They're waiting for some magical moment when resistance disappears and everything feels easy.

People who embody recovery know that moment never comes. They do the hard things scared. They make the commitment before they feel ready. They quit before they have all the answers. They take the leap and figure it out on the way down.

People who are trying care deeply about how they feel. "I don't feel like quitting today." "I don't feel strong enough yet." "I don't feel ready to face life without crystal." Their decision to quit is held hostage by their moods and feelings.

People who embody recovery don't care how they feel—they do it anyway. They recognize that feelings are information, not instructions. They can feel exhausted AND commit to recovery. They can feel resistant AND make the decision to quit. They can feel scared AND step into substance-free life anyway.

This isn't about being hard on yourself or pushing through in harmful ways.

It's about recognizing that you are the CEO of your own recovery.

You're not a victim of your cravings, your circumstances, or your resistance. You're the executive making decisions about your life.

The person who's trying asks: "Am I ready to quit?" The person who embodies recovery says, "I don't use meth. Now let's figure out how to live that truth."

That shift will change your trajectory.

3. Resistance Is a Shapeshifter: How Your Protective Parts Show Up in Disguise

Here's where it gets tricky: Resistance is clever.

It rarely shows up as a voice in your head saying, "Don't quit using crystal meth."

Instead, it disguises itself as reasonable thoughts and behaviors that seem harmless—or even protective.

Let me show you how your protective parts show up when you're on the verge of committing to recovery:

Perfectionism. You tell yourself you can't commit to quitting until you have the perfect plan, the perfect support system, the perfect timing. You need to finish this work project first. You need to wait until after that party. You need to find the right therapist before you can really commit. This protective part convinces you that if you can't do recovery perfectly, you shouldn't start at all. It's trying to protect you from the fear of failing—but it's keeping you stuck while pretending to have high standards.

"I need to understand why first." You spend months analyzing your addiction, reading books, listening to podcasts, trying to figure out the root cause before you'll commit to quitting. Don't get me wrong—understanding is valuable. But this protective part uses your desire for understanding to delay action indefinitely. It's trying to keep you safe from the unknown by keeping you in the familiar territory of analysis. You don't need to understand everything about why you use before you can stop using. The understanding often comes AFTER you commit, not before.

"Just one more time." This is one of the most insidious protective responses because it sounds so reasonable. One more party. One more weekend. One more goodbye to this chapter. But "one more time" is never one more time. It's a protective part's way of keeping you in the pattern indefinitely, always preparing to quit tomorrow, never actually quitting today. This part is trying to ease you into change gradually—but in reality, it's preventing change altogether.

Distraction and chaos. Suddenly, everything else in your life becomes urgent. A relationship crisis. A work emergency. A friend who needs you. Your apartment needs organizing. Your car needs repairs. These protective parts know that if your life is constantly on fire, you'll never have bandwidth to address the biggest fire of all. And the chaos gives you a built-in excuse: "I can't focus on quitting right now, I have to deal with this first." This part is trying to protect you from the vulnerability of focusing on yourself.

"I'm different." You convince yourself that your situation is unique, that the usual recovery approaches won't work for you, that your reasons for using are more complex than other people's. This might be true—every person's story IS unique. But this protective part uses your uniqueness as a reason to stay stuck instead of taking action. It's trying to protect you from the risk of trying something and having it not work. The truth is, you're not so different that recovery principles won't apply to you.

Minimization. "It's not that bad." "I'm not as bad as those other guys." "I'm still functional." "I only use on weekends." This protective part downplays the severity of your situation to keep you from taking the drastic action of truly committing to quit. If it's not that bad, why would you need to quit completely? This part is trying to protect your self-image and avoid the discomfort of admitting the full impact of your use.

The most important thing to understand is that these aren't enemies working against you. Almost every single man who comes to me for help has vilified these parts, which is turning against yourself. That is a zero-sum game. 

They're protective parts that developed for very good reasons.

Each one learned, at some point in your life, that its particular strategy was the best way to keep you safe.

They're still doing their job—they just haven't updated their strategies to match your current reality and goals.

When you can see these patterns not as character flaws but as protective mechanisms, you can start to work WITH them instead of fighting against them.

You can thank them for trying to keep you safe, and gently let them know that you have new, healthier ways of protecting yourself now.

What Now?

Understanding resistance doesn't make it disappear. But it does change how you relate to it.

The next time you find yourself saying, "I'll quit tomorrow," you can recognize: Ah, there's a protective part speaking. What is it actually afraid will happen when I commit to this?

The next time you catch yourself needing everything to be perfect before you can start, you can ask: What is this protective part trying to save me from? What does it need to hear from me to feel safe about moving forward?

The next time you notice yourself creating reasons why now isn't the right time, you can name it: This is a protective response. What would it look like to honor this part's concerns AND take action anyway?

You're not resisting quitting because you're weak or broken or don't want it badly enough.

You're resisting because transformation is terrifying, because your nervous system would rather keep you in familiar misery than risk unknown freedom, because committing to recovery means the person you've been has to transform into the person you're meant to become.

And becoming someone new means the old version of you has to release. Of course, that's scary. Of course, protective parts resist.

But here's what I know after years of guiding men through this process: On the other side of that resistance is the life you're meant to live.

The tree is already there, casting its shadow. Your recovery is already waiting for you. You don't need to create it—you need to work with your protective parts so they can release their grip.

The resistance is part of the process, not a problem with it. The fact that you're feeling it so intensely means you're on the verge of something significant.

Feel the resistance. Name it. Thank the protective parts for trying to keep you safe. And then make the commitment anyway.

That's how you shift from trying to being. That's how you become substance-free. That's how you step into the life your soul is calling you toward.

The bigger the shadow, the bigger the tree. And you, my friend, are ready to grow into something magnificent.

The question isn't whether you're ready to quit. The question is: Are you ready to work with your resistance instead of against it?

— Dallas

Journal Prompts

1. Mapping Your Shadow Think about a moment when you were close to committing to recovery but pulled back at the last minute. What specifically were you afraid would happen if you actually quit? Write from the perspective of the protective part that stepped in—what was it trying to save you from? What did it believe would go wrong?

2. The "One More Time" Conversation If the part of you that says "just one more time" could speak freely without judgment, what would it tell you about why it keeps asking for one more? What is it really trying to give you or protect you from? Write this as a dialogue—let this part explain itself, then respond with curiosity rather than criticism.

3. Identity Inventory Complete these sentences:

• "Right now, I am someone who tries to quit because..."
• "If I became someone who doesn't use meth, that would mean..."
• "The person I would have to become to stay substance-free is someone who..."
• "What scares me most about that version of myself is..."

Notice what comes up. What's the gap between who you are and who you'd need to become?

4. The Perfectionism Protection Racket Look at the ways you've been waiting for "perfect conditions" before committing to recovery (perfect timing, perfect support system, perfect understanding of why you use, etc.). For each condition you're waiting for, ask: "What am I actually afraid will happen if I start before this is perfect?" Then ask: "What would this protective part need to hear from me to take action anyway?"

5. Your Resistance Intensity as Data On a scale of 1-10, how intense is your resistance to fully committing to quitting right now? Whatever number you wrote, finish this sentence: "My resistance is [NUMBER] out of 10, which means the transformation waiting for me on the other side is..."

Now write to yourself from the perspective of the you who has already made it through—what does future substance-free you want present you to understand about why this resistance was so strong?