Hello, I’m a marijuana addict. I will always be a marijuana addict, even if I haven’t smoked for over 2 years. When I was growing up I was a happy-go-lucky kid. I had two close friends on my street and we terrorized the neighbourhood on our big wheels. My one friend’s folks had a swimming pool and a basketball net. We played street hockey and there was a nearby park where we used to play catch in the summer and go tobogganing in the winter. I had a normal enough time in elementary school, continuing to play sports and doing decently in my classes. I did have a real problem being able to concentrate for long periods of time which leads me to believe I might have had ADD or ADHD, but life was still pretty good.
In junior high I started to get interested in girls; I became the singer in a rock band and I found weed. I remember the day I met my buddy and later to be best friend, who would eventually introduce me to MA. He was wearing a Flyers jersey and I was thinking who the hell is this guy in the Flyers jersey? Anyway, we became friends. At the time his best friend was a guy who lived on my street. We were cool because we smoked weed. I loved the high right off the bat. My friend’s sister said she doesn’t like the feeling of not being in control; well I loved it! It soon became a daily habit.

As I transitioned into high school I was a pothead for sure. It was my identity! I grew my hair long, wore a biker jacket or lumber jacket, depending on the weather. I had two pairs of Doc Marten boots, one eight hole pair in green and another pair fourteen hole in blue. It was the nineties man. Grunge was huge! I was raised listening to classic rock and 80’s music. But Grunge and Hip Hop was my generation’s thing. In grades 9 and 10 I was able to keep fairly good marks, but in grade 11 everything changed. I started skipping classes and continued to hang out with the cool crowd. When I say cool, I mean the stoners. I would spend my days with my buddies under a bridge either smoking doobies or brewing t’s (bottle tokes). My typical day was to smoke a joint in a park on the way to school, skip class all day and smoke in the ravine, come home and smoke in the backyard or in my parent’s unfinished basement. I loved that basement! My Mom and I would smoke cigarettes down there. I had a few jars of weed stashed around the room she didn’t know about. The weekends saw copious amounts of weed being smoked at park parties, house parties and in stairwells. We drank and did other drugs, but in those days weed was the most important. It was my D.O.C. (Drug of Choice)

Before too long I was selling it. I started with selling dimes and grams here and there, and was soon selling half quarters and quarters. I had friends around me who were natural salesmen. My best friend’s younger brother was one of those who could turn a tidy profit. They could sell weed and make good money at it. I couldn’t. The weed I sold barely covered the cost of me smoking it. I would sell enough to break even and I’d smoke the rest. All my friends were people associated with pot. To be my friend you had to buy, smoke or sell weed; or a combination of the three. Every day looked the same. Sometimes though, we’d go to see live music. Eventually and surprisingly, I graduated high school; “High” school was right. I barely graduated. I pulled a 52% at Grade 10 Spanish at night school. I think my teacher gave me a 52% pass, because she felt sorry for me.

Because my grades were really bad and I was puffing ganja all day, I never even applied for post-secondary school. At the time, I developed what was diagnosed as drug induced psychosis. Eventually, I was hospitalized and spent 3 months on the psych unit with no drugs or no booze. It was the first time in years that I wasn’t smoking all day - not smoking at all! Even though I was not smoking weed the psychosis didn’t go away, and I was diagnosed with schizophrenia. I was hearing voices, having paranoia, having religious delusions, believing that I was the devil, Jesus, or a prophet, depending on the day. There were a bunch of characters in the psych ward. It wasn’t that bad. There was a ping pong table, a TV and a room for smoking cigarettes that I called the “death” room, because I’d already quit. I was so messed up that it’s like I forgot to get back to smoking weed. I found the Lord and started to be a believer! Without the knowledge of the program of Marijuana Anonymous I had done my first three steps. Step 1- admitted I was powerless over marijuana and that my life had become unmanageable. Step 2- came to believe that a Power greater than myself could restore me to sanity. And finally, Step 3- made a decision to turn my will and my life over to the care of God, as I understood God.

I gave up marijuana and other drugs for years of my life. The only substance I continued to ingest was alcohol. Of course I was on antipsychotic drugs which some people may consider to be a mind and mood altering substance. But, it kept the psychosis at bay for the most part. So without a post-secondary education I was forced to work minimum wage jobs. I call them “Joe” jobs. Luckily, I eventually found a job as a peer support worker, someone who works in mental health with lived experience rather than a diploma or degree. My first job as a peer support worker was working with folks who’ve experienced their “first break”, their first experience with psychosis. I worked there for eight years running peer groups and billiards tourneys. After that I worked downtown teaching life skills classes to homeless people for three years.

For several years I was able to abstain from weed. But eventually that insidious weed came back. I started to put in late nights at the pub and find myself surrounded by potheads. There was a guy I grew up with who lived in a house right up the street from me. Most days of the week it was a party house! People coming in and out all times, women coming in and out, hip hop blaring, joints being rolled and passed around. People would party to the early morn. But, when I smoked there it wasn’t as much fun as it used to be back in the day. I had a lot of good times in the nineties. Now, because of the psychosis it’s not fun anymore. I get “sick in the head” when I smoke now. Why torture myself over and over again? I guess it’s because I remember the good old days. Maybe they’ll come back? I’ve had to admit that they won’t come back. I wasn’t smoking everyday like the good old days, but it was a problem.

On March 17th 2018, St. Paddy’s Day, I ingested weed for the last time. I was plastered, it was Paddy’s Day and I took a cookie from a buddy. I asked, “how much I should eat”? He said, “about half.” So I ate half at the pub and ended up at the party house. I tried to give the other half away. No one took it, so I ate it. That mixed with the alcohol sent me “praying to the white porcelain God” that night and I haven’t touched weed since. My best friend who I mentioned earlier, brought me to the Sunday night Kensington Group of Marijuana Anonymous. It was the second time I’d been at a meeting and I felt at home right away. The first meeting I’d been to was of another 12 Step fellowship. There were so many people there I was so overwhelmed and it took me a couple years to come to my first MA meeting. But this first MA meeting was much smaller. I think there were no more than ten people. I was comfortable and it became my home group and I went there faithfully every Sunday, even though I had to be up early the next day for work. I’d get there early, set up chairs, put literature out and put out snacks. I chaired the meeting if asked and felt very comfortable in sharing. It was a good vibe. I tried other MA meetings, but Sunday was my favourite. I had read the 12 steps and 12 traditions many times, but I still had no idea what the process of going through the steps with a sponsor would look like. I had to practise a bit of “blind faith”. I managed to get some clean time and someone whom I respected, both from inside and outside the rooms, suggested I get a sponsor and start working the steps. So, I asked my sponsor if he’d take me on as a sponsee, which he was quite happy to do.

We started working the steps. Although I had given my life to Christ years before, we started with step 1 and the process was like a re-birth. I made sure I was “fearless and thorough” right from the start. I learned that “faith without works is dead”. I did everything my sponsor “suggested”. We dug in deep in step 4. I made a searching and fearless moral inventory of myself; step 5, shared my inventory with my sponsor; afterward I had a “perma-grin” as if I was stoned because I was so relieved. Steps 6 and 7 put a finger on my character defects and asked for them to be removed. Steps 8 and 9 was being willing to make amends and then going out and doing them.

I’m living steps 10 and 11: growth steps as my sponsor would say. Keeping my side of the street clean and staying in touch with God through prayer and meditation. And finally step 12, I hope to carry the message to marijuana addicts and to practice the principles in all my affairs. And why can I do that? Because, I’ve truly had a spiritual awakening! I’m not nearly as selfish anymore. I’m happy to do things for people. I’m honest most of the time. I try not to judge people. My relationships are much healthier. I’m someone I can love and be proud of. I still take it one day at a time. Especially living through this time with the Covid-19 virus. Everyday, I say my prayers, meditate, call people in recovery, do yoga, listen to music, read and practice the steps, take walks in the park, and make sure I do fun stuff like play cards with my Mom. If you’re reading this and you’re wondering how I can quit for any amount of time, remember all you have to do is not smoke today. Yesterday is gone, tomorrow is not here yet, so all we have is today.