Growing up, smoking pot was something I hadn’t considered as an option. Just say no, right? The stigma around pot raged strong in my community for years. Then I spent nearly ten straight years being pregnant or breastfeeding. Jack and I felt satisfied with some wine on occasion, and we eschewed cannabis when offered, deciding that we’d abstain so that we could one day righteously tell our kids that we never did drugs. That was obviously before what some may call my “mid life crisis.” I like to think it was before I really woke up to life.
Jack used it first. He went away on a guy’s weekend, like he does every summer. He came back pumped to tell me what a life altering experience his first time smoking pot had been, and I admit that at the time I didn’t really get it. And Jack still couldn’t know how life altering an experience it would be for us both in the years to come.
Jack loved the feeling, and he immediately realized that it made him introspective in the best possible way. He kept telling me how much I would love it, too. However, at that point I was still breastfeeding our little baby surprise, and as fate would have it, that would last yet another year, until just after her second birthday.
After ten years of barely having date nights, we were going away for a full weekend Up North and leaving all four kids with my parents. My little sister had been smoking pot for years, and she became my first dealer when she brought over some weed for us to take on the trip.
I was excited but nervous to try it; Jack hadn’t had any since the year before and considered it a just-once-in-awhile thing. We lit up the second we got out on the lake on our boat. Jack felt amazing; I felt nothing. It took me another 24 hours of trying before I could get the hang of inhaling in a way that actually got me high. I spent those first 24 hours inhaling, coughing, spitting, and waiting for some feeling that I couldn’t identify. Every time I overanalyzed if I was high or not, Jack told me that I wasn’t. He was right…I wasn’t.
When it happened — I knew! It was amazing. I’ll even argue that it was better than the first (real) time I had sex. I was on the boat, rocking to the gentle waves and riding along a river of quirky cottages, listening to music while my husband smiled and laughed with (and probably also at) — me. I can’t remember exactly what I was thinking about, but I do remember how I felt. I was in the moment, relaxed, and happy. I was grateful. I was in love. Everything was more beautiful than it had been moments before.
I was in love. Everything was more beautiful than it had been moments before.
Marijuana itself isn’t addictive for me. But it’s pleasurable, and I desire it the way I desire a piece of chocolate after dinner. The year after my first toke, I indulged on special weekends. Then I began taking small hits when we stayed in watching movies, or before sex. When we went to Jamaica the following summer, we spent a good portion of our trip either pleasantly intoxicated or more often, comfortably high. Since my Jamaican vacation last year, I’ve lit up probably an average of 4 nights per week. It can be habit forming, and I tend to form habits.
The right kind of pot — a sativa, the “upper” of the pot varieties — does not make me comfortably numb. Quite the opposite, sativas put me in touch with my feelings in a way that I can’t seem to be while sober.
Dead sober, I sometimes feel like I have something clinically wrong with me. It’s hard for me to enjoy the moments. I spend too much time on the computer, not doing something productive like writing, but instead shopping, searching, gathering like my female ancestors but to no satisfaction, because it is not truly necessary. I scroll mindlessly through Facebook, powerless to putting down the phone. I envy other homes posted on Pinterest, then spend money I shouldn’t to replicate the pins. I ignore my children while I am distracted by technology. I get obsessive about projects around the house or clean to a ridiculous perfection. I struggle to take in how beautiful my family is.
Marijuana helps me slow down.
Marijuana helps me slow down. I savor my children — their little bodies, their gorgeous faces, and the adorable things they do and say. I look them in the eye and listen to them. I can watch them playing from across the room, and breathe a sigh of relief and contentment as I soak in that very precious moment of their childhood. I deeply understand how quickly those moments will pass by, and I make sure that I am a part of them, rather than the lady just cleaning up the kitchen.
When I take a hit, I push my little girl on the swing, snuggle up and read with my young lady, and have deep and funny conversations with my preteen son. I sit down and watch movies with my kids, sharing a big bowl of popcorn between all of us. I talk with them, and I listen to them. Bedtime takes longer because I answer their questions, turn tasks into silly games, and look into their eyes and truly tell them how much I like and love them as I tuck them in. I leave their room with all of us smiling and looking forward to the next day.
Marijuana helps me reflect on myself.
Marijuana helps me reflect on myself. I didn’t realize quite how subpar my parenting was until after I experienced parenting on pot. I don’t get stoned, but I do get buzzed, and that buxx makes me tune in. My realizations and actions while high help shape my everyday sober actions for the better. I work on being a better person, for my kids, my husband, and myself.
I do yoga — which I had done before marijuana — but now yoga makes so much more sense. It feels good to go slow and feel the burn and the stretches. I am kinder to my body; I consider what foods I put into it and how I exercise. I don’t drink as much alcohol; my nightly glass of wine has been replaced by some lightly salted popcorn and a cup of tea, often dandelion root to aid my digestion. I’ve lost weight and toned up. I can resist the urge to pick at my skin. I am finally confident leaving the house wearing very little makeup with less than perfect hair and casual clothes that very simply highlight my figure.
I can’t take myself too seriously, but I can’t take advantage of myself either. I have to respect myself, my body, and my thoughts. I keep trying, and I keep thinking, and I keep reflecting.
I am more confident in myself because I know myself better now. I know my value, and I know my faults, but I do not fault myself too strongly. I know that I am only human and my condition on this earth is temporary. I am a part of something bigger and more important than this life and this body. I can’t take myself too seriously, but I can’t take advantage of myself either. I have to respect myself, my body, and my thoughts. I keep trying, and I keep thinking, and I keep reflecting.
Sometimes I do need a break from my thinking mind. I want to simply feel good, sit back, and watch a movie or the sunset off my deck. On those days, I take a quick hit of indica, or as we call it “in-da-couch.” When I want to make bedtime more fun, enjoy a deep conversation with my husband, or laugh my ass off, I enjoy some sativa. When I want to have sex, I can do either.
I am often a better wife when I have had a hit. All that living in the moment with my kids? Yup, it’s great for a marriage, too. When I take a little hit, I am more giving. I am nicer. I focus on my husband and on the experience we are sharing. I consider with gratitude how much he does for our family, and for me. I empathize with him instead of taking him for granted or treating him with contempt.
Being able to stay in and enjoy our home while high has changed our nightlife, too. We weren’t often content to stay home and sit around, but we also couldn’t get babysitters to put all of our kids to bed. Now we’re stuck at home waiting on a vaccine and world health. What’s a working mom and wife to do? I know lots of parents that drink wine, beer, or other alcohols in front of their kids without batting an eye. But drinking even a glass or two of wine gives us aches and pains the next morning. Plus, the kids were irritating after just a glass rather than fun.
Discovering marijuana had us talking, connecting, loving, and enjoying the home we had built. I would walk around just appreciating the surroundings that I had worked so hard to create. I would gaze at my children as I checked on them one last time. Taking the dog out for her nightly business, I would soak in the night sky and sounds. A little rain or snow didn’t ruin that brief time; my mind and soul would instead notice and appreciate the beauty that was there. Jack and I could sit at the kitchen table for an hour talking — even better than a movie. Our nights together have changed from an endless series of no date nights, to every night together an event, an experience, a connection that we share.
Most relevant to this blog, I soak in the sexual experiences, realizing that they are an expression of our love for each other. In the moments of sex, I think about the reasons, both biological and emotional, of why he wants to pleasure me and why I should accept his advances and thus show him the extent of my pleasure.
I soak in the sexual experiences, realizing that they are an expression of our love for each other. In the moments of sex, I think about the reasons, both biological and emotional, of why he wants to pleasure me and why I should accept his advances and thus show him the extent of my pleasure.
In Annie Hall, Woody Allen is pissed at Diane Keaton for always taking a hit before they have sex. My husband and I watched that scene with a laugh last spring, knowing that Diane isn’t disconnecting from Woody during sex with that hit, but rather connecting on a deeper level. It’s not the same every time I get high, and it’s not the same every time we have sex. But some of my best, most meaningful sexual experiences have occured while I was high. I look at my husband while he is inside me and holding me and I feel the amazing aura surrounding us. I can see sex as love, and love as sex.
But through all the joy, insight, and positive attributes that cannabis brought me, guilt crept in. The odd thing about cannabis is that it makes you think a little too much sometimes, which is perhaps why some people don’t enjoy their cannabis experiences…because the truth can hurt.
The odd thing about cannabis is that it makes you think a little too much sometimes, which is perhaps why some people don’t enjoy their cannabis experiences…because the truth can hurt.
See, when COVID sent us all into lockdown for the first time, we were bored out of our minds, experiencing Groundhog Day in our lounge clothes. Taking a hit helped with the mundane nights and made things a little more exciting, and it wasn’t long before taking a hit became an official part of my nightly routine — just a little hit every evening. Then, Saturday and Sunday afternoons became an opportunity to enjoy an edible. I started experiencing some major Catholic guilt as I got blazed on a nightly basis, earlier and earlier each evening, encroaching into afternoons. When I felt like my workplace responsibilities (at home) were done, I’d sneak upstairs and grab a gummy or take a toke.
You’ve heard of lifestyle creep? This was cannabis creep. I subconsciously was getting the idea that everything ever would be better through my ganja goggles. Want to enjoy dinner? Take a toke. Kayak ride? Take a gummy. Beautiful afternoon for a walk? A little hit first. Watching a movie with the kids? Boring while sober, better off high.
The worst part was that almost immediately as my high set in, so too would the guilt. I would reflect on how I could have enjoyed this moment sober, too, with clear thoughts. Didn’t I owe it to my kids to be coherent? Didn’t I get natural highs from being productive and intelligent? Cannabis had its moments, but it couldn’t be every moment. Cannabis itself had taught me that by opening my eye to all the possibilities.
Cannabis had its moments, but it couldn’t be every moment. Cannabis itself had taught me that by opening my eye to all the possibilities.
Not one to rely solely on my own intuitions — I’m a librarian and thus I palace high value on quality information, after all — I researched. I don’t know quite what I was looking to find, which is sometimes the best way to research because it takes the bias away. What are the long term effects of daily marijuana use? What are the short term effects? What happens to people’s bodies and minds when they use cannabis as frequently as I was?
In short, after reading some timely, scientific studies, I found that the verdict is still out on the long term, daily effects of pot, simply because it’s been illegal for so long that there was never a great opportunity to study it. We do know that it’s not good for teens or even people in their early twenties, because their brains are still developing, but what about a person in their late thirties? There could possibly be some short term memory issues and more difficulty concentrating, perhaps even some anxiety issues, too. Is it possible to be addicted? Maybe, though the withdrawal from pot isn’t life threatening; you’re likely just to be pretty grumpy and irritable on the days you don’t imbibe, until your body resets itself.
I didn’t want to be addicted and I didn’t want to miss out on real life. I read the research, sober. I reflected, sober, on the guilt that I had begun to experience with each toke I took. I decided that I needed to find my balance. I needed to merge the clarity that I experienced on drugs with the clarity and insightfulness that God blessed me with when he formed my mind as he did. In this respect, it’s easy to see how cannabis and psychedelics could be used for religious experiences. It can be a part of your lifestyle, but not your whole life.
In short, I’ve come to this realization: all those moments that I was using cannabis to help me enjoy more, those are moments that exist without cannabis, too. Cannabis is a tool that helped me step back and see those moments for the wonders that they are. I dove deep inside myself and discovered gratitude for all my blessings. I discovered the strength and wisdom to enjoy the moments of my life with or without cannabis.
Life certainly requires us to be sober, clear minded, and fully conscious the majority of the time. And then there are the special occasions, the lazy Saturday nights, and the Thanksgiving dinners that become even just a bit better, a bit more meaningful after a quick hit. I’m only human. So I indulge. I enjoy. I proceed with balance, believing life is not just the one that exists before us, and not just the one that exists in our minds, but a collaboration between the two that must be carefully and consciously managed. When I need the extra nudge, yes, I’ll admit it — I reach for the bong.
