“I don’t have a problem” I tell myself, as I pick a well smoked joint, that has less than a cm of weed left in it, and light it.
I take a drag, as long as I can, and feel my stomach drop when I realize that’s it. I feel hopeless, as I do it while my partners back is turned and facing the bbq. Not that he’d say or do anything in front of guests, but I know he’d be disappointed all the same.
Moments later I find it’s hit – thank god this strain is strong and it only takes one or two puffs to be well and truly stoned. I know this because the day after I told him I was not smoking during the week anymore, I found a half smoked joint sitting on our outdoor coffee table and smoked just two puffs thinking it was enough to get me a little happy without being obviously high. I rationalised firstly that two puffs is nothing, it’s like having two sips of wine, you know? So what was there to be ashamed of? And if it did make me high, what was the worst I could do? Pass out ? Order a tonne of Uber eats and put on 5kgs in one sitting? and even if I did that, I had now found purging and it was a back up plan for any major food slip ups.
The worst part is, earlier in the day I had called G to tell him that I inadvertently found his hiding spot, and felt that he would be angry if he saw it had moved. I asked him to find a better hiding spot but that I was proud of myself for (a) telling him and (b) not taking any.
Only for hours later me regretting that decision and knowing full well there was a good chance he left the half smoked joint from last night outside. That’s the thing with addiction, you keep count of every place the addictive thing is – you know where you can get a hit of the dopamine and it takes inhuman amounts of strength to not give in.
My flight has been pushed forward and now I am faced with seeing her sooner than I hoped. On top of that, my workplace… you know, a BANK, still haven’t managed to fix their pay processing error and I’m about to fly 4000kms with $25 to my name. To say my anxiety is through the roof is a major understatement. Which leads me to begging my partner for a joint before I go or to take one up with me. I’m suffocating in anxiety and I know I am not strong enough for this. I need help of a chemical kind and if it’s not weed it’s going to have to be alcohol.
He doesn’t relent, I’m almost in tears and not sure I’ll be able to get out of the car once we get to the airport. Maybe I’ll just beg him to take me home, after all I can’t do this alone. He tells me to think about my brother and his partner, to think about meeting my new niece, Daisy. But the truth is, she is overshadowing all of that. This anxiety can’t be tamed by mental distraction by itSelf. I need a chemical distraction and relief because after almost 20 years, I don’t know how to face her and know this is most likely the last time I’ll ever see her.
