There was a part of me that never wanted to be labeled as being a “weed head”, or I never wanted to get to the point where I can barely go hours without hitting the blunt. I never like the idea of something that has that much control over me, and causes me to surrender my soul to its existence. I’m okay. I'm growing thru having commitment issues, that’s my toxic trait. But that’s not why we’re here today.
Really, I did not like the stigma of how unhealthy weed is for you, mentally, emotionally, and physically. Let’s be honest, some of it is true. However, I still appreciate it. I still indulge in it. Some of us are looking for an escape from life. Some of us use it because we can’t sleep without it, some can’t eat without it. Some of us use it because we are not yourself if we are not high. Do you see where I’m going with this?
Now, I’m not here to talk down about it and convince you to stop and go to therapy. Everybody has their shit, and if this is yours, you are welcomed here.
I currently struggle with negative stigma related to being a mental health professional who indulges in a substance that my textbook educated us about being harmful for people’s mental health. The irony. Not to say that I do not believe that it doesn’t slowly affect our memory and reaction time, sure it does. But so does getting older. People do not talk about the reason why we love weed often enough. They don’t talk about what it really does for them. The reasons why every time they say they are going to stop, they are still rolling up years later. Don’t worry, I’ll go first.
I do not smoke weed because I am running from my reality. I used to, though. It was because I dated people who heavily smoked. I knew people who came to our high school classes high as a kite. I dated people who rolled up breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and probably for a snack or two in between. I was in close proximity with people who went to church high. Church y'all. So I think it would be more difficult to understand if I did not at least try it. For a time in my life, I did not have to even buy weed. It was always around me. I was always included in the rotation. From middle school all the way until college. Honestly, that’s probably the reason I was never a weed head, I never knew the plug. I did not have to know him.
But after college, my entire understanding of weed shifted when I relocated to a land where weed was legal, Washington D.C. Mind blowing. Game changer. “You mean to tell me that I could walk into a store and purchase weed like I’m buying a bag of chips?”, I second guessed it. I couldn’t believe it. That’s when I started learning more about weed. I learned about the different types, the variety of flavors, the effects each, the milligrams, the THC percentage, what THC even meant, etc.
Nevertheless, I still didn’t allow myself to get consumed by the need to be high every day of my existence. But you better know that I was still attracting people who indeed were heavy smokers – friends, classmates, my sugar daddy (but that is another story for another day), people I pursued, etc. They were still showing up. So I always had time periods in my life when I smoked more. And then I would fall off and pretend like I will not indulge and weed again, until I am chilling with someone and they ask the magical question, “You smoke?” My response would often be something similar to “Not like I used to.” Girl. Just say no. And you know, if you smoke with a heavy smoker once, then they will pass you the blunt every time after that. And then, even better, jokingly (but seriously) gaslight you for saying not partaking.
After losing my step father in March 2020, when Covid was really coviding, there was a mental shift that occurred for me in reference to smoking weed. I made a very intentional decision about smoking because I did not want to smoke because I didn’t want to feel the pain of loss. I did not want to turn to a substance that only masked the realness of reality. I needed to feel all of that. I had to, or I would still be running today.
I made the decision that I was going to smoke because I wanted to actually enjoy the way it makes me feel. I learned to actually feel the feelings. I wanted to dive deeper into my thoughts. I began to allow myself to move more and dance whether there was music playing or not. I chose to start writing. I chose to start recording myself while I was levitating. I chose. I took control. I did not allow the high to put me in a slumped/stuck state where I was sitting there looking goofy as hell and barely moving, in a sunken place. I began to laugh, and I mean the type of laughs that made your stomach muscles sore the next day, the ones where you lowkey can't breathe for a second because you are wheezing. Yes, those laughs. I allowed myself to have deep conversations about my high thoughts. I enjoyed who I was while I am high, and watched how that spilled over into who I am when I am not.
Weed can be healing. Weed is healing when it is used for its' depth rather than a way to escape. If it becomes something that you rely and depend on for every day functioning, it becomes less of an experience and more of a hold.
Enter into more spaces that include things that you love, with the best intentions of yourself in mind. Always.
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