[Sober Living] Six Month Hangover

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?

“How often do you think about smoking [cannabis]?”¬†“About once a month.”

The last time I smoked was on St. Patrick’s Day 2013. One hit and I was gone. Maybe I’m just some loser lightweight, but whatever. I don’t recall much of the details of the party other than everything spinning. The next day at work, I said some awkward stuff to some colleagues, and they just left me alone throughout the day.

Physically, things sorted out over the next few days.

Mentally, my short-term memory was shot for months. Imagine someone telling you “St. Patrick’s Day” and not being able to remember that phrasing. In the weeks after, I could get Patrick¬†before getting distracted by something else, and after a few weeks I regained the concentration to recall the full phrase. Mostly…

It took about six months to be able to function normally.

“It’s like driving through a town where you had a bunch of bad experiences. Those experiences helped you become a better person, but you wouldn’t go back. Or like jumping into the deep end of a pool without knowing how to swim. Maybe I should have learned to wade it out in the kiddie pool, but I don’t want to try it again.”

Those temptations are strong enough, years later, to throw away all that progress.

Fortunately, those are fleeting moments, and as the years go by, they only flare up as temporary moments of weakness to be quickly replaced with bad memories, or really, how nothing really fruitful came from that time. All my highdeas were shit. Even if there were a good nugget, I’d become too distracted to ever flesh it out.

That’s why I’ve effectively been clean and mostly serene ever since.

My sober ideas aren’t much better. It’s just I can focus on these idea for more than a few seconds to spend the time it takes breathing life into them. The title and idea for this confessional popped up Wednesday morning, I fleshed it out in the afternoon, and spent the hour and a half to write it Thursday morning.

I don’t want to return to being a zombie like the photographed¬†Laa-Laa.

Why would I want to return to that jail of the mind? For shitty ideas I can’t use? For perceiving reality as a videogame, where it looks like I’m peering through a head-up display, complete with seeing status bar icons along the rims of my glasses? For having everything in my mind spin like a roulette? For these esoteric unexplainable experiences?

No, thanks.

My big goal is to write. My important goal is to write "The Story." My proudest moment is the most recent time I overcame a fear, which should have been today. I'm a better zombie than I was yesterday. Let's strive to be better everyday. (Avatar)