I Went to Rehab for Weed. Twice.
Relapse
In 2015, after eight years sober from weed, I relapsed. While most people think smoking weed isn’t a big deal, to me it was a big deal, because I wasn’t just a casual stoner. I was a chronic 24/7 inhaling machine. I used it to obliterate my existence.
In the beginning, getting high was a fun, silly time. Jokes were hilarious, food tasted amazing, sex was off the charts. Sure, I got in my car on the wrong side, left my lipstick in a box of Charleston Chews, and came home with a machete when I had intended to buy a raincoat, but so what? And so what if I wore sunglasses in the shower and walked around wearing headphones that weren’t playing music? It’s not like I was going to get arrested for any of that.
Things escalated quickly.
Or deescalated?
After six months of getting high around the clock, I became a dumb, horny zombie with the mentality and libido of a 20-year-old on spring break. I would wake up at 8 a.m., go on my terrace naked, do a bong hit, and sext the guy next door. And he worked. I had enough awareness to realize that my behavior was ridiculous for a woman in her forties, but I couldn’t help it, and I didn’t care.
