1 Year Ago Marijuana Scared Me
Journal Entry #4
Night. It’s 2022. I feel different. I have not smoked for 12 days.
I’ve done some pretty crude things to get high. I’ve stolen from friends. I’ve gone searching in the mud and rain for a roach. I’m willing to drive over an hour.
I just think about the grip this drug has had on my adult life.
I started smoking when I was 15 or 16. I would sneak out.
I did weed in college, freshman and sophomore year. Junior and senior year it developed into a daily habit.
Upon graduation, I found ways to acquire it. Pens, cartridges, edibles. I’ve just consistently found ways to let it in.
But I will see what it’s like without it.
I smoke to feel creative. And think creatively. Perhaps it’s an escape. An illusion. Something that appears to make me creative.
I’ve built the habit of writing. I make music often. These are my habits.
Running is a habit. I’ve made it easy and trackable.
When I’m alone, I think and reflect and find reason to progress.
When I’m around others, I feel stuck and confined. Hm.
So this was me taking inventory of my relationship to cannabis.
I don’t think it’s objectively bad.
But I do have a love/hate relationship with it.
I conceptualize marijuana like a hammer — or a powerful tool.
Tools can be used wisely to develop and build.
Or tools can be used poorly to break and destroy.
At the time of writing this, I was very anxious, uncertain, and somewhat displaced by a recent change in work.
I was aiming at being a more upright version of myself, which meant relying on marijuana less.
It had become a crutch. And I was approaching the realm of abuse.
I think all substance-use is detrimental when consumed by a weak-minded individual.