chronicles with cannabis

I’ve been doing well lately keeping my distance from nature’s finest plant. I admire it from afar. I still think about lighting up anytime I feel sad, or angry, or confused, or I’m a little tired, or a little bored, or the weather is nice, or the weather is crappy, or I’m eating a really good sandwich. I suspect that impulse will stay for awhile. I’m proud of the willpower I’ve exercised while experiencing life without it. It’ll get easier with time.

For me, letting go of pot has been what I imagine it’s like to break up with a great boyfriend over logistics. We still love each other, but we live in different states and we love our jobs, our friends, and our homes. Eventually one of us asked the other to give all that up and the relationship was put into perspective. Better to end it now while it’s still fun, before anyone’s feelings get hurt. Sometime had to be the last time. I’ll remember it fondly. I hope it lives a happy life.

I only started smoking a few years ago. Initially, I used it to help with anxiety and did it ever. I felt like a different person. I was shocked at the kind of thoughts I thought when I wasn’t so damn scared all the time. Pot helped me realize that I wanted big things for myself. I loved my simple life, but I had a strong desire to contribute to something greater. That thought could not be quieted even after the high faded.

Unfortunately, pot doesn’t help you figure out how to do that. I was on my own when it came to the path I should walk down. I chose to hedge my bets and began a few different journeys. I write this blog—I’m not really sure who this might be helping, I’m pretty certain it’s just me. I am writing a novel that I hope will inspire a few people if I ever get it finished. And, most importantly, I am pursuing higher education, this time in the field of humanities and social science. It seemed like a good place to start helping humanity was to learn more about it. I don’t think I would have had the gumption to take all those first steps with out the delusions of grandeur that cannabis lent me.

Changing my life so drastically has been terrifying. I have a very loud inner critic that thinks I am the most idiotic, self-centered loser on the planet and without cannabis to keep her quiet, she would have drowned out the voice that said what if? What if I’m not an idiot? What if I really could help someone? What if I deserve to achieve a dream? Smoking let those questions bubble up from my subconscious long enough for me to act.

After pot revealed how my anxiety was preventing me from accomplishing my goals, it became its own kind of obstruction. I was attempting to become a high achiever while living the life of a stoner. I was tired and moody, and my thoughts were cloudy and erratic. I wanted to do a thousand things, but had the motivation for none. The benefits no longer outweighed the costs. I am grateful to cannabis for all the doors it opened for me, but I think it’s best I walk through them unassisted.

I’ve been shocked by the things I’ve accomplished when I allowed myself a chance to try. Cannabis helped me discover that what I was really afraid of wasn’t trying, it was failing. Ironically, because I was high all the time, I failed enough to figure out that failing isn’t all that bad. I get to learn an important lesson AND I can resolve to keep going. Now that I know that I continue to exist on the other side of failure, I don’t need pot to hold my hand anymore.

I know there’s a possibility my love affair with cannabis isn’t over for good. Maybe by some twist of fate, I will run into my old boyfriend a few years down the road and we will rekindle our romance for a night—we will laugh, and write poetry, and marvel at the night sky. But I know it will never feel the same as it did in the beginning. I don’t need it now like I did then. Now, I marvel at the sky without it. I’ve learned what I need to know.