Why Do I Smoke Weed? A Self-Examination
In this blog, I talk for two-ish paragraphs about sad things. If you’re sensitive, I’ll write a little warning in case you want to skip it. I also talk about:
Weed. But not the type I talk about in this blog!
****
Why do I smoke weed? My involuntary answer is, because it alters how I think and that’s fun for me. I intend do something creative. However, I know that almost without exception, I will have or be on the verge of a panic attack, which is where I am right now. But if I make it through this 30ish minutes, I have access to a creative playground where I invent ideas that I wouldn’t think of if I were sober. Hopefully “getting all the thinks out” works like an uncorking. Once I empty my brain I can be at peace and get absorbed in creative time. Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t. My mind is full, so that’s what I’m doing tonight.
Lauren, obvious question. Why smoke weed if you get panic attacks? Because the creative playground afterward is invaluable. I go to this place to solve problems, have breakthroughs, revisit old breakthroughs for a refresher, create art, activate my design mindset, or prevent boring tasks from killing my motivation to be creative (there’s probably something diagnosable or mindset-rearrangeable here).
*the sad part*
Anyway, as is the routine every time I smoke weed, I’m at the panic attack point, and went to the “bad place”. The bad place looks like this tonight: I cycle through each member of my family and fantasize about walking into their room after they have just passed away. I know it’s morbid, I’m sorry. I’m standing there amongst their belongings and I allow myself to feel the deep grief of them having suffered the pain of death. I do it all the time, as well as visualize my own death in every random way that I come across on media or work.
The biggest reason that I panic is because I anticipate panicking, go straight to the bad place, and self-fulfill the prophecy, a totally manufactured phenomenon. Sometimes I’m convinced that my brain took me here because it’s paranormally telling me that I’m “feeling” something happen to someone I love. I cycle through everyone again to double check if they all “feel” the same and that no one death “stands out” when I scroll through… because of course that would indicate that I’m receiving a “sign” [ eye roll ] Do I even believe in that phenomenon? I don’t know, maybe like 65%? My mom experiences crazy dream coincidences like that. It’s not totally out of the question to me.
*end of sad part*
For example, when I was hit by a car in Queens in 2021, L and I walked past a bunch of cemeteries, came up to this intersection, and I made a comment of, is it safe for pedestrians? He assured me they did a bunch of work to it to make it so. Maybe they did later on down the street, but at the actual intersection, some jerk pulled the bonehead move where they slam on the gas to turn left as soon as the light turns green and hit both of us when we had the walk sign. Totally a not-at-the-part-that’s-safer-for-pedestrians thing for him to do.
That was the closest thing I’ve experienced to having a “gut feeling” about an upcoming situation. Most other instances could have been avoided or had equally likely and/or slightly less dangerous choices available that I didn’t take for whatever reason. (Go home earlier, not go out at all, get off the highway on a different street, etc.) There’s some comfort in that element of chance, that I didn’t do anything stupid or wrong even though something bad happened. *Breakthrough alert!* Scribbling that in my Lauren Book of Comforting Truths.
The realizations that I achieve as a result of these think trains are good for me, and improve my personality and mental resilience. Why is tonight’s panic spiderweb more visceral than usual, though? Is it just the strain of weed and it does this? Have I spent a lot of time closed up to this feeling and suddenly I’m feeling a wave of gratitude and awakening at how great my life is going? It supercharged me with feelings of love and relief that, thank God, everything is still okay tonight, everyone is fine, so I don’t totally regret going through it because my hugs will be tighter next meetup.
(Please whatever Gods are out there that actually have power over my life, don’t Murphy’s Law me when I say this, but) I feel an overwhelming sensation that I’m due for a major tragedy or adversity- Things are “Good. Too good…” accompanied by a saturated dose of superstition. Unfortunately that superstition directs a lot of my actions and I’m not sure what it will take to break through that (Probably a period of sobriety and a vacation).
But, what made me so susceptible? Is it because of my job? I’m not sure how much I can say about it, but I caption live TV. Lots of news. It hurts my heart sometimes. It could also be because every year or so something traumatic has happened to me, though as of yet nothing has led to a death. I’m just expecting it to someday be the case that something traumatic DOES lead to death. Feeling “overdue” especially at the rate I experience non-fatal traumas. Most of it is car trauma, too. Car trauma has spawned a head full of books that eventually I will squeak out. Phew. Snack break.
****
The stuff that I don’t want to acknowledge. This section is shorter because the answers are obvious.
Why else do I smoke weed? My involuntary answer is, for the relief of taking a quick “break” before I do an annoying task in hopes that it will be less annoying. Or in relatable words, to procrastinate.
[ eye roll ]
I wonder how many minutes I waste “taking a quick break before I do [x boring thing] that I need to do in order to do [x fun creative thing].” This means, plug in cables. Troubleshoot software. Clean room to lay out stretching apparatus. Clean off a surface and lay out all my art supplies. There’s something about this part that sober me can’t stand so much, that I’m willing to forego the fun part of the activity entirely to avoid the part that frustrates me (unless I convince myself that I’m doing something to prevent the task from being annoying, like smoke weed?) What in the world, Lauren?
Why is it that, even though this whole awful bad place routine happens, I still choose to do it? Is the creative outside-the-boxness not enough or achievable sober? Do I just need to speed up time (like The Doctor. “Is this how time passes normally? Reeeeeeally slowly?”) Tons of art has been created using weed for this very reason. I suppose not all of it is good, though. Is mine less good? Do I care? Quick consider, nope, I don’t. Also because, I feel that it’s a waste of a perfectly good !!10pm-3am PRIME TIME!! if I don’t go big or go home trying to create something extra wacky. So, I feel obligated to smoke weed and be creative most nights so as not to waste prime time.
Kinetically, or psychologically(?), I also smoke weed as a checkpoint in my nightly action countdown routine. A marking of the next set of actions that eventually lead to sleep. A corporeal punctuation mark. I think that’s a “mankind” thing and not a “me” thing though, being a creature of routine, so I won’t ruminate on this too much or make myself a bad guy for doing human stuff.
Over the course of a few hours, I wrote this blog, and filled up a few pages of a Word document with brainstorms. Should I stop smoking weed? Well, Lauren, you smoke weed because of all the great brain things that it provokes and you don’t *have* to give anything all the way up. But also, you haven’t let your amygdala really rest in years. Everything is scary to you. It prevents you from doing fun life things. Maybe cleaning your body up is worth a try at least for a while? Maybe you will stop feeling afraid to, I don’t know, go running? Drive to concerts downtown and park on the street? Maybe you’ll never get the answers to all of these questions, but maybe you’ll learn to be at peace with not getting them if you chill out on the vices.
Perhaps I will come back and add more thoughts to this, but I enjoy the breakthroughs that came tonight, and will probably continue for the foreseeable future.
