Giving Up

Right. Here I am to talk about something which, if you’re a massive stoner, you can probably really relate to.

I am a massive stoner. I smoked my first joint when I was 14 or 15 years old, out in a field in the countryside with two of my friends. It was awesome. Over the next few years I smoked it here and there, wouldn’t really have it more than a few times a year. 

Towards the end of living in Stockport, around when I was 19, I started to smoke a lot more. I just enjoyed it. I liked that being high didn’t make me over-think things so much, it allowed me to chill out and relax, I wouldn’t worry so much (I’m a big worrier) and in general life seemed easier. Apart from a few months here and there where I managed to quit for a while, here I am, almost 24 and still smoking. 

5 years smoking weed. It’s too much.

I’m very lucky in a lot of ways. I don’t suffer from most of the negative side effects from cannabis. I’m overweight because I get the munchies, but I have a suspicion I would probably be overweight regardless of what I smoke. I do get a little paranoid from time to time but I always recognise it and shut it down because I know it’s related to getting high, so the paranoia never effects me. And I’m unfit, but whilst the smoking may exacerbate that, I’m really no better health wise, because I just don’t exercise.

I have good stable employment, apart from my student loan I’m not in any sort of debt, I am excellent at my job, always on the ball, with the best memory for what’s going on, codes, numbers, facts and figures. In fact, if people ever find out I’m a massive stoner (which they rarely, rarely do) they’re so surprised, because I just don’t seem like one.

And yet here I am, waiting for Mat to get back with another bag of weed. 

However, the thing I find most hard to believe about weed is that it’s addictive. It’s not chemically addictive, like heroin, or even nicotine, but psychologically, it’s really got a hold on me. There are plenty of reasons I should give up –

I would become more sociable and inclined to go out

I wouldn’t eat as much

I would have more energy

I wouldn’t have a cough/be a smoker

I wouldn’t be putting myself at a higher risk of developing mental issues

I wouldn’t be hiding my smoking from… almost everyone I know

Mat and I would interact more

Our apartment would get cleaned more often

I would eat better

I would have more money

and the list goes on….

And yet, even though there are all these benefits to giving up, every time a bag runs out, we get "just one more".

"We’ll stop smoking after the next bag, for sure."

"It’s just, I had a really bad day today and could really use a smoke."

"Next week we’ll stop for at least six months."

"We’re adults, we can do whatever we like, so fuck it, we wanna smoke weed!"

"It’s not like we have kids or anything."

"This is totally our last bag."

"What else is there to do?"

"I just need to relax."

"Urgh, it’s all I can think about."

Seriously, we say those things so much I can just recite our weekly dilemma word for word. Sure, sometimes we manage to give it up, for a month, sometimes even 3 or 4.

And here I am. Waiting for Mat to come bag with another bag of weed.

After all these years, it sounds like a joke when I say this is totally our last bag. We’ve agreed that we will discuss the matter again after we come back from Boston in September, and I hope that when we discuss it, it’ll be to say that we’re not gonna smoke it again, because it really has ruled our lives for 5 years.

This is totally our last bag.

I hope.