I used to be a drug addict. I smoked weed pretty much every day from the age of twenty until I was fifty. I don’t regret a wasted minute or a single toke. And I always inhaled.
Now, I know there are lots of folks reading this and thinking, “Pot isn’t addictive. And even if it is, who cares? It’s a victimless crime.”
And while I would agree with that general line of thought, I think it’s also fair to say that something ain’t quite right if you feel the need to get high for 7,000 straight days.
When I was young, I got wasted with reckless abandon, getting crazed with friends and strangers alike, experimenting with little rhyme or reason, testing the limits, feeling groovy, and always drawing attention to myself. I was also prone to heavy drinking — often of the binge variety. It was big fun being the life of the party and sex, drugs and rock & roll were my holy trinity.
As I grew older, booze and herb became a sort of pleasure crutch, a release from the daily grind of job and family — or the lack there of — and a form of self-medication. Harmless fun.
And when I finally headed onto the back stretch of life, drugs became a pain reliever — both physical and mental. Getting high was at best an afterthought.
But make no mistake, regular — as in daily — drug use — and by that I especially mean liquor — is probably indicative of some sort of psychological disorder, and no doubt topped off with too much stress.
I’m not saying drugs are bad. They feel too good to be bad. And I have my medical weed card, so I’m still in the game and not trying to pretend that I am any better or wiser than anyone else. But my experience as a drug pro tells me that if you are getting lit every day or night, it’s masking a fundamental unhappiness and insecurity.
Now, I can hear a lot of you going, "This is BS. I come home from work and have a drink or a little puff to unwind every night. No harm. No foul."
Unwinding after work is a family tradition in America, passed down from one generation to the next, like heart disease.
I didn't get married until I was 59. Inna has made me happier than I ever dreamed I could be — or deserved. Soon after marrying, I left politics and took a stress-free job as the "trails guy" with the Maryland Department of Natural Resources. And then I retired. I was finally at peace.
And you know what happened after that? I stopped drinking and doing a pinch hit every night. It wasn't a conscious decision. It turns out that I just didn't need my daily dose anymore. I was stoned cold happy. And these days I only get buzzed after a long hike or bike ride when I'm feeling tired and sore, or on special occasions with friends.
So, in the end, I’ve powered back from 350 to maybe 50 painkillers a year, and maybe now I can afford to keep going without a painted on smile... and take that trip around the world on gossamer wings.
How many tokes over the line until you are actually deemed a "drug pro"? Asking for a friend...