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I'm Not Smoking Pot All the Time

by A Noise in Her Nose 13 days ago in marijuana minute

(I wish I could)

I'm Not Smoking Pot All the Time
Photo by Elsa Olofsson on Unsplash

I made a mistake last summer. I told a friend of mine that I was coping with the pandemic by getting high.

It was true. I was smoking weed last summer. But I wish I wouldn't have told my friend what I was doing in the comfort of my own home.

Because really, why did my friend need to know about this new (and temporary) hobby?

I told my friend because she asked me how I was doing. And when I considered the question, I thought, "I'm doing relatively okay, and part of the reason I'm feeling some relief is this freedom I have to get stoned."

So I mentioned the pot. An acquaintance hooked me up with some delicious herb, and I was enjoying its effects. I felt more relaxed. I was able to zen out a little bit.

It's not like pot was new to me. And it's not like this friend has never seen me high before. We've known each other for over a decade, and we partied together, back when we had less responsibilities.

So it's not like I was worried that this friend would have some new view of me. Like she would suddenly realize that I was this different person - this person who smokes pot.

Why was it a mistake then? Why do I regret telling my friend about how I was getting high last summer?

Anyone who knows me, like really knows me, like has spent one-on-one time with me, like pays attention to me for more than five-minute intervals, knows how I am. And how am I? I'm spacey.

In other words, as a mostly-sober person who only occasionally smokes pot (rarely, I promise!), I sometimes act like a pothead. I space out. I can't find the words I'm looking for. I say silly things.

That's just me. That's just my brain and my body and perhaps my core essence. I'm a daydreamer. I fall easily into abstraction. I'm like a newborn at times, easily amused by the sensations of food on my tongue.

I'm okay with being this way. I know this spaciness has its disadvantages, but I like being me. My sensitivity and my slowness feel right, despite society's insistence that I be faster, more productive, more efficient.

I am who I am, and that's why I don't want my behavior attributed to something else. I don't want someone to see me acting spacey and think, "Oh, I guess she's high right now." Because for one, it wouldn't be true. But for another reason, it would take away from who I am.

To be confused with a pothead would mean that I was deliberately manipulating myself into this state of mind. And that bothers me. I want to feel as if I'm behaving naturally, not as if I'm using a substance to attain a constant state of perceived bliss.

I know people who smoke weed daily, and I have nothing against their lifestyle. If it works for them, that's great. In fact, I sometimes wish I could smoke more often. The problem is, smoking pot always catches up to me.

After that brief stint last summer, I started to remember why smoking pot is a problem for me. I'm a low-energy person. Getting high tends to rob me of my future energy, one that is already in short supply.

When I talked to my friend a few months later, I asked how her mother was doing, and my friend responded, "She's smoking pot," with a distinct tone of disappointment and ridicule.

Of course, when I told my friend I had been smoking pot before, she responded, "That sounds nice." But now I knew what she really thought.

Maybe the real problem is that I judge myself for smoking pot, even if it's only occasionally. Telling my friend felt like a mistake, but what was the cost of this mistake?

Anyone who knows me, like really knows me, like has spent one-on-one time with me, like pays attention to me for more than five-minute intervals, knows how I am. And how am I? I'm spacey.

Why does it matter how I got this way?

To wit, the clock has just struck 4:20 pm.

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