In the last year and a half, I had become increasingly dependent on weed to function, or at least my idea of what functional was.
What started out as way to help me relax and sleep through the night when I was struggling with severe insomnia. It gradually progressed to being used earlier in the day; smoking a bowl after dinner, smoking a joint while tanning in the sun, a blinker before my morning workout.
My tolerance inevitably got higher and I would triple my everyday usage, by creating a routine that felt the same as eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Not to mention having a late night dessert or tiny snacks throughout the day to satiate that hunger. Like clockwork, I would smoke the same times every day.
On the days I couldn’t, I felt awful.
It wasn’t necessarily from withdrawal, but rather living in the sober state that paled in comparison to being high.
Becoming aware of this would only make things worse. I would continue the same routine, just with an added kick of despair, realizing it was no longer in my control, and rather something I felt compelled to do.
I was afraid to call what this was an addiction. I felt I couldn’t possibly tell anyone, considering the fact nobody realized how high I was all the time. On the occasion that someone did ask if I was, it was instinct to lie and sometimes I couldn’t help but get defensive.
It was destroying me. I spent almost 5 months being unemployed, I stopped creating (another thing I initially used weed to help me do), I became more and more reclusive, and I would spend so much time in my higher plane of existence (yes I’m punny) when it came time to exist in reality, I could barely form words to speak correctly.
It wasn’t until I got accepted as a participant in a psychedelic study for those with cannabis Use Disorder that I would tap into a lot of underlying trauma that played a defining role in my usage to begin with.
I worked with a great team. We would meet once a week to discuss how I was feeling, how to manage urges, and recognize patterns and behaviors. Each week I would feel better going to those meetings. I went out and got a job. I would get certified in personal training.
I quit smoking 3 days before my first dosing session back in February, and I’ve remained sober since. My team was so proud of me my resilience and determination to stay sober.
But as my part in the trial concluded, so did those meetings. That anxiety of needing a routine, has returned. Without the weekly praise of abstaining, and being held accountable, Ive felt the growing desire to smoke again.
The only thing keeping me from doing so, is the shame I’d feel having to explain to everyone I had done it again. Especially since outwardly, Ive been seeming so well. If only they were to see my desperate search history for other substances to put in place of it.