Regret, Relief, Repeat

First off, I want to preface this by saying I know a lot of people who smoke weed; friends and family — many whom I am very close to. What I’m about to say has everything to do with my own personal experiences and my own journey. I am in no way going to ever spend a single second judging you for smoking. 

For a long time, weed really helped me — I described it earlier today as a “weighted blanket for my emotions” after I had quit drinking. I didn’t just “quit drinking” — I spent a decade as an alcoholic from age 18–28 with my failed attempts to quit, multiple stints in rehab, a DUI, and a lost job where I was fired and sent home in a cab. 

During this time, I was also struggling with another addiction — bulimia. It’s common to have multiple addictions — drinking, smoking, eating disorders, gambling, shopping, etc. A lot of us just aimlessly flounder around between them trying to cope. This has been my experience and what I’ve learned from other alcoholics and addicts I’ve met along my path in different rehabs and throughout life. 

I met my now husband around the age of 27, and once we started hanging out, it was the first time in my life I ever really felt like I was being seen. He actually saw me — who I was deep down — past all of my addictions. And he listened and held space, didn’t judge me, and accepted me for who I was. This was the beginning of me being able to have the courage to try again to get sober. 

I started seeing a therapist, one I’d tried to see years past when I wasn’t ready to make changes. Something she helped me understand during a session about why I was still binging and purging was this — “you’re still allowing it to be an option in your mind.” This sounds so simple, and yet, this phrase helped reshape my entire thought process, which in turn changed my actions and changed my life.

It wasn’t like I just stopped one day. People don’t just quit on the first try — if you’re one of the 1% who is lucky enough to do that, incredible! For the rest of us — this is the battle of our lives. I had to gather the courage to quit every single fucking time, and then when I failed yet again, I drowned in my own shame. This is a suffocating cycle that is lonely, sad, scary, isolating, and feels so defeating. 

The people I know who have fought their way out of addiction are some of the most incredible people I will ever have the pleasure to know. They have been in the depths of despair, in the darkest places of themselves, and still somehow found a way to rise. People who have overcome struggle in their lives are some of the most beautiful people I have ever met. 

So, let’s get to weed. I got sober from alcohol 10/11/12 — weed was just starting to get legalized, at least medically in AZ. We had been just buying it from some dude my husband knew. I was a super control freak back then, and am still working on that. So once there was an opportunity to get my medical card, I jumped on it.

I still remember my first time at the dispensary. I felt like I was in the movie Charlie & the Chocolate Factory, but instead of chocolate, it was just copious amounts of weed. I didn’t even know what I was looking at! I had no idea where this would end up leading me at that time.

For the first few years, it truly helped me. When you stop an addiction, nobody tells you that you’re gonna retract back to the emotional maturity of the age you were when you first started. I was 28 with the maturity of an 18-year-old. Every emotion I had stuffed away with bulimia & drinking rose to the surface. Oh fuck! 

It was sooooooo much to deal with! I was also still dealing with body image, and would deal with that for years to come. Weed would end up creating a cycle where I’d survive all day on iced Americanos, protein bars, and anxiety, only to relieve my mind at night by getting high as fuck and finally eating, and eating, eating, 

So the weed helped me manage my emotions in those early years. It gave me a release valve for the weight of everything I was carrying. There were many laughs and a lot of passing out on the couch. Once, I even fell asleep high on an edible when my friend came over. We laughed it off, but the truth is the shame I carried from that day tormented me.

I ended up having to travel for work, and it was the first time I was without it. I was smoking every night at this point. This is the first time I would experience withdrawal symptoms. I had no idea back then that’s what was going on. All I knew was I lost my appetite completely, and I couldn’t sleep at all.

I remember coming home from that trip, a couple days clean, and just standing in the kitchen holding a bowl and hesitating. I would end up smoking because I didn’t know how to be anyone else in that moment. My habit and routine was to get high every night and drink copious amounts of Pellegrino. Ex-drinkers can probably relate — always need something to sip on. Nowadays it’s water, thankfully. Even that’s a new habit — I just recently cut back on my Pellegrino parties. 

So years would pass, and we get to 2020, and now just flower isn’t enough. I’m packing what I’d call my “Oreo” bowl — flower, then shatter mashed in the middle, followed by more flower. All this did was basically add the equivalent of a shot to my drink; I was just getting blasted high. I would eat whole cheese pizzas and then feel disgusting the next day. I can’t eat cheese but didn’t give a fuck because I was high and snacky.

The deep cloud of shame that lingered around my entire being would haunt me all day long. I was someone who was what you’d call “high-functioning” — no pun intended, although it’s funny-ish. I was one version of myself all day and an entirely different version at night. Daytime me left the building at night, and nighttime me looooved to smoke bowls, watch 2020, and snack until she passed out on the couch.

I lived in this cycle for about 8 years. 2020 was the second time I’d tried to quit, the first was around 2018, and I was smoking a cartridge of CBD and melatonin instead (for about 4 weeks) — I had an edible after that, was out of my mind uncomfortable, and so ensued the cycle for 2 years before I tried to quit again.

This time when I quit I noticed insane emotional swings, the kind that make you feel manic. The kind that are so uncomfortable you want to crawl out of your skin. I also had night sweats — I’m talking pool of sweat — toss and turn, hardly sleep at all night sweats. Fuck this, not worth it — I just need to sleep. 

So back to the cycle I’d go. I would quit for weeks at a time and go back. Mostly this ended up being because something in life would happen and it was “too stressful” or “sleep is more important, I just have to have it to go to fucking sleep” — and over and over and over I did this. 

I’d get to a point where I’d convince myself, well, “it’s just weed” — my other addictions were gonna kill me, this isn’t gonna kill me. Nobody in my life even cares that I smoke, nobody is judging me, let me just have this thing.

Years later, I would realize this was also about belonging for me. When I quit drinking in 2012, there wasn’t a whole ass alcohol-free market and fucking sober curious pages. I would go to work events and people would push me, “why don’t you have just one?!” So, weed helped me “fit in” — I belonged because I was getting fucked up too.

Funny thing about people who are uncomfortable with your sobriety is — it challenges them to face their own relationship with alcohol. People don’t like that — they don’t want to be uncomfortable or wonder if maybe they could benefit from a change. They want to be left the fuck alone. And you know what, I get it. I understand both sides of this equation.

Anyways, I bring this up to emphasize the point that knowing I had this one thing I could still do — it made me feel like I fit in. “I belong.” “I’m one of you.” “I like to check out too.” — Later in my life, I finally chose me, but at that time, I wasn’t there yet. 

I tried to quit again at the end of 2021, and we were about to sell our house in Phoenix, AZ, to move to Kansas City, Missouri. I ended up going back to it because the emotional stress of moving, the housing market insanity, and buying virtually was absolutely too much! So, I’ll just leave it here in AZ. I’ll quit in Missouri. I’ll let my medical card expire here in AZ so I won’t be tempted to go before we move. Oh, I fucking still went — often — and paid so much more in recreational usage taxes. 

Fast forward to April 2022, we move to KC. We had cartridges to hold us over on the move and they lasted a week or so after we settled. It was only medical here at that time. I asked my fucking realtor to buy me some because I couldn’t handle the thought of running out. I had lived in Phoenix my entire life — I was 38 when we moved. I had no fucking idea how much this was gonna change my entire life and my entire being.

So we stock up and I keep going, and there’s that shame cloud again — fuck, here I am AGAIN, not doing what I said I would do. I haven’t even mentioned yet allllll the money — so much money. All gone now. I ended up going so far as to get my medical card, because fuck it, I’m back in this.

You know what? Maybe I’m just a successful person who smokes weed and it’s fine; nobody cares. I fucking cared though, and I cared deeply. I was fighting mental battles every single day about wanting to quit but still doing it. I’d tell myself Monday would be my quit day, and then by 5 p.m., I’d be rolling up to the dispensary — they have a fucking drive-thru down the street from me here. Like, is this some sort of cosmic joke?!

I’d try to quit again in early 2023 — this is when I’d start seeing a clinical psychologist and doing parts work in therapy. I didn’t know it then, but that was the beginning of me finally walking away from weed, walking away from body image bullshit, and walking toward my freedom. That year, I’d string together weeks, a month or so. I’d end up detoxing only to “re-tox” — there’s nothing quite like that first high. Know what’s next though? Immediate anxiety, shame, and regret. It’s maybe a few hours of bliss, and then it’s right back into the trap of addiction.

I’d try again to quit in 2024; I got the most days I’d ever had!! I was finally doing this! 108 days!!! I’d been super into the N.A. drinks and I felt a little urge to want to just feel SOMETHING. What can do? I mean, I’m never drinking again, so what about a little bit of THC in a bev?? That’ll be fine, right? I scoured the internet for my options. 

Everything was a subscription and like $100. It was football season, the Chiefs game was on, and I wanted to get a little bit fucked up. I just did. I had my husband go to the dispensary and get me some liquid THC. I’ll just put a tiiiiiiny bit in my N.A. drink. Cut to one drink later — I poured that shit in a shot glass and drank it that way. I was hungover the next day and had to call in sick to work. Jeezus. Is this really my life?!

I let myself swim in the shame that day, and I picked myself up and moved on. Holy shit, can I actually have it for one day and move on?! That lasted about a week. It was like the following Saturday and I was bored of my same old life and the same old shit. I went to the dispensary and got a two-pack of tiny little joints. It’s as much as I’d smoke in half a night previously, so this is fine, right?!

I hid it from my husband all day, and then on Sunday, I busted them out. I was expecting that pure bliss after, but instead, I was met with immediate regret. I stopped again for another week or so. I was gonna go visit my family in Phoenix; my grandpa had passed. So the night before my trip, I told myself I wasn’t gonna smoke in Phoenix, so let me just have fun the night before. So I got high AF and zoned out and had my snacks.

I felt sluggish on the plane but powered through. We went to the funeral and then to my uncle’s house after. Usually, those environments make me cringe. It sucks to be the only sober person. I had some newfound confidence, what?! It was because I had a false sense of control over my addiction to weed at the time. I hadn’t gone full-blown back into nightly use yet. I promised myself I’d never go back. I couldn’t handle the withdrawals again. It’s too painful.

The sleepless nights, the fucking night sweats, a jacked-up gut, emotional rollercoasters, grief and loss…. But I got some liquid THC the night my parents had everyone over at their house — so much family going on — I don’t want to be 100% here & they’ll all be drinking anyways. So fuck it! I for sure won’t have more the next day. It was so cheap at the dispensary I bought two bottles, you know, to “share.” Well, that didn’t happen, and I had the second one the next day.

I was able to stop for a night before I flew home. When I got home — I went to the dispensary. I was able to fool myself into thinking I’d found some sort of balance and that I could handle this now. I was going to yoga and going on my walks and just so fucking happy. I was waiting until 8 p.m. to even do it. I could have it all! Hell yes!!!

And then weeks later it crumbled, and there I was back again in the cycle. Smoke at night. Zone out to TV, eat all the food, wake up feeling shitty, ruminate all day about how to solve myself like I’m a problem, escape the shitty painful feelings the only way I know how — smoke. And repeat — over and over and over. I allowed this to go on from about August to December. I quit again for a couple weeks and then let the lure of the holidays be my excuse.

At this point, I was fucking exhausted with myself and desperately wanted change. I started to wonder if I needed to be on antidepressants?! I had another trip planned for February of 2025, and I knew I’d stay with my parents in the same house I not only had all my other addictions in but where I let them go as well. I knew if I quit when I wanted to, I’d still go through withdrawals on my trip, but I didn’t care. 

I saw my therapist in person the day I got to Phoenix. Our session was so profound that during parts work, my body was shaking. I went back to a part of me who was 4 and had felt “left out and discarded” — I spoke to her and let her go be free at Laguna Beach. Most of my parts want to be by the beach, which makes sense — I’ve loved the ocean since I first saw it as a kid. There is an unrelenting sense of peace and freedom there.  

I’ve been clean since just before my trip, and while I’m not yet at as many days as my longest streak last year, I know I am done. I’m not even counting the days. I finally feel at peace. This is how I ended up in “the void,” and my life has been transformed since.

So, when people say “weed isn’t addictive” and you know you feel that still small voice calling you to walk away — listen. I see you. I understand. Please know you have the ability to walk away and create the freedom in your mind that you are so deserving of. Quitting weed was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But I got here, and you can too.