WAC 314.11.015 3(g) often causes me to choose reclusion. I am fed up with this! “Employees may not…” “Permit any person consuming, or who has consumed within the licensed premises, any type of marijuana, usable marijuana, or marijuana-infused products to remain on any part of the licensed premises.” While concerts are the riskiest, I’ve smelled cannabis in libraries, restaurants, buses, and everywhere in downtown Seattle. My safest route to avoid imposed psychosis is to stay home.
Starting four years and eight months ago, I began developing mental fortitude against temptation, negativity, and the stresses that would otherwise compel me to numbness through alcohol. This pursuit of sobriety propelled me into self-improvement, which I partially credit for my endurance to evade sketchy situations in my conscious life. How about in my unrestrained dreams? Where anything is possible, including finding myself pouring vodka into this very glass, splashing in some orange juice, and…
Don’t run from your pain! Whether it’s a something physical like an injury or something mental like ennui, learn to embrace that pain. Pain will remind you of your motivations more than the seduction of any numbing pleasure. Pain will be with you always. Pleasure is fleeting and addicting. Pleasure will leave you in both your darkest hours and when everything seems wonderful, whereas when disciplined properly, pain will be motivation toward achieving your goals.
We need more authentic anecdotes about psychosis in mainstream media. At no point prior to trying cannabis had I heard anything other than untrustworthy horror stories equating cannabis to heroin. Similar to abstinence-only sexual education, once you invite the idea that there will be idle curiosity, you can talk about responsible drug use. If there had been some character in some sitcom that had any semblance of reality, maybe, I would have heard about psychosis.
I just snuck an extra benzodiazepine from their hidden stash, and was debating when to ease my anxiety, before fully seeing this beat-up keychain I found during a decompression walk. I put back the same medication I had been prescribed after my panic attack and continued my day. Even years later, there are days when it would be nice having that crutch to fearlessly ease into social situations. That’s when I must “stay strong” most.
“What’s that? It looks dark.” “Coffee.” What if you want to be social while you’re out somewhere and not feel tempted to succumb to the peer pressure of inebriation? While you could always get something that looks like alcohol, wouldn’t it be nicer to hang out with people without feeling like you have to justify yourself? Are our societies really that culturally-ingrained around any intoxication that most major evening hangout spot must have a bar?
There’s a point I never want to return to again. It’s a place everyone knowingly or unknowingly has: their worst negative space. Mine lingers under hundreds of layers of hard work, earned gratitude, and lavish praise. When things go bad, it’s like I instinctively dig through those layers to negativity. Since learning to handle life without inebriation, when things get anxious for me, I remember that I have many layers of positivity still shielding me.
Before I realized what I had walked through in the library, my head was already dizzy, and I remained light-headed for hours. Cannabis may be decriminalized and legal in Washington state, it’s just the worst of those who indulge do so at everyone else’s expense. They’ll openly carry and everyone just seems to look the other way. I’m sick of having other people screw up my brain because they feel entitled! What happened to decency?
I suppressed most of this memory for years. The second-to-last (hopefully) time I smoked cannabis was in my bathroom, after a few intense months of overconsumption, where I had a brief experience I could not comprehend or properly explain until now. I heard five distinct conversations. No one else was there, windows closed, and I wasn’t playing music. That hallucinatory moment was like hearing the audio from some crowded café and left after that hit…
Would you consume something once if it took 6 months to get back to normal? What if everyone said it were harmless? They can use it without issue. They might have a sluggish morning after, then they’re off to a normal day. You, alternatively, get completely messed up to where you’re never quite right. The next few days suck, the next few weeks are weird, and the next few months are awkward. Would you try again?