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"Love Affair" - A Recovering Addict My "love affair" with marijuana
began two and a half years ago as a new and exciting way to spend an
otherwise dull winter afternoon. I had been offered pot three times
previously, and on the fourth I consented. I had been through DARE and knew
all the dangers. But I also believed that one time couldn't possibly hurt
me. In one sense, I was right; in another sense, I couldn't have been more
wrong. The first time I smoked, I loved the high I got, so I smoked again. I
found that it actually got better each time. At that point, I was nothing
short of ecstatic. An entire world was opened to me. I was able to explore
my thoughts in an exciting and simultaneously serene way, and it was great. Of course, I felt guilty about lying
to my parents, but I figured "I'm a teenager, right? It's what we're
supposed to do." For the first few months, I lied pretty well. The web I
was spinning only had a few strands, and I was free to spend most of my
first "drug summer" in carefree stoner pursuits watching movies,
swimming, or even just driving around listening to music, which I felt was
greatly enhanced by weed. Soon though, the honeymoon ended. I
had been telling myself that I just liked to get high, but I knew deep down
that I had other motivations. I smoked because when I was sober, the world
was just so damn boring and depressing to me. It would take me another year
to figure out that this was my fault, not the world's. By the time, I had started getting
into trouble with my parents. I worried about getting caught a lot more now,
but that just made me sneaky, not sober. Deep down, something was gnawing
away at me. I was deeply unhappy, but since pot had long since destroyed my
ability to feel real emotions, I couldn't admit to myself how unhappy I
was. Instead, I just looked forward to the next toke. I compare my use with
a love affair because there truly was romance involved. When I was stoned,
everything seemed larger-than-life. I felt like I was starring in a spy
movie and comedy at the same time. I kept getting busted, and was sent
to a local treatment center, where I b.s.'d my way to a successful
discharge with remarkable skill and ease. Then, I went back to pot. Finally,
I ran into some very serious legal trouble just over a month later. My
parents fortunately gave me more help than I deserved, but I felt
spiritually dead. I had lost all hope and all my self-respect. I felt if
such a thing as the soul existed, I certainly didn't have one anymore. I entered an all day dual-diagnosis
program at a local treatment center. I had been diagnosed with anxiety
disorder as well as chemical dependency. Now I was forced to look honestly
at my life; to not only feel, but also to express emotions that hadn't
surfaced for two years. It was incredibly hard, but it made me feel clean.
It made me feel healthy and hopeful about my life. I've been sober for awhile now,
and my relationships with my family and friends have improved. I plan to
attend Notre Dame next fall; however, I know that I cannot use my parents or
college as motivation to not use. Even the desire to stay out of jail will
only keep one sober for so long. Lasting sobriety must be for oneself, not
anyone else. I believe sobriety can give my life meaning. The emotions I
feel now are not always good, but at least they are real. I'm now able to
make real connections with other human beings, which I could never do
before. I realize that the people in AA and NA whom I originally found scary
are simply men and women who have been through hell and are now starting to
figure things out. I value all these things greatly. They are what truly
keep me sober. I can speak only for myself, but I think many others have had
the same basic experience. I spent two years of my life chasing after
happiness; after a "perfect high" that could never be caught. I just got
sick and tired of being sick and tired, Drugs aren't a problem for all
users, but they are an incredibly dangerous illusion for many. Just think
about your life honestly, and you'll know which category you fit into. A guy named Thoreau said, "I can't make my days longer, so I can only try to make them better." I'm pretty sure he didn't smoke weed. |