I was sitting down and waiting for mid-week study to begin. People are trailing in, greeting everyone and grabbing a seat. I, on the other hand, was struggling with my asthma. Wheeze wheeze wheeze...just call me wheezy. I mean, dang, it's hot, it's cool, it's rainy, it's overcast, then it's hot again. My lungs are having a hard time following along. So I pull out my trusty inhaler, give it a shake and then take a looooong drag.
A couple of dudes are sitting together and Shawn sees me take out my inhaler and take a puff.
"Can I get a hit off that?" He laughs.
"You wish." I laugh.
It got me thinking how I totally don't miss using drugs. In fact, I thank God He took the desire away from me. I used to smoke marijuana on a daily basis for about five years. Herbs, my brotha. I smoked in my little Toyota Tercel on my way to class while I was in college. I felt it helped me cope with having to mingle with all these new and unfamiliar people. But then I was paranoid because I felt like people were looking at me funny because they knew I was high. Then I would get home, go upstairs and sit down on the toilet and smoke a joint through the bathroom window. All while burning some patchouli incense so my grandparents wouldn't get a whiff.
How cliche is that?
Every party was punctuated with a fat doobie. Every time I went to the movies, I were sure that getting high beforehand would make it more interesting. Some of my friends would hate the fact that when they came and picked me to go to a party, I would get in the back seat all slant-eyed and giggly. Not that they were concerned for my health or anything like that. Haters. I used to hallucinate alot probably do to a very overactive imagination, so I would get high to enhance my artistic expression. Me and my artist friends would have to blaze each and every time we got together to paint or draw. And the bong...the bong was my best friend.
So you get the point, right? I got high alot.
Lest you think I am glorifying drug use or rehashing good times, I have to dig deep to remember the not so fun times. All the bad choices I made while I was under the influence. The fact that I would smoke anything that was offered to me, resulting in me smoking cocaine one time. Heeeeey, why is my face going numb? My face feels funny! I sold it, I bought it, I stole it, I grew it. It got to the point where I really couldn't face any sort of social situation unless my mind was altered in some way. I would drive and try to light my pipe at the same time which was why I always had little burn holes on my t-shirts. I would smoke and cough so bad I would spit up twenty different kinds of nasty. One time at a friend's house party, I swore up and down that she had black goats tied up in the corner of her backyard. My friends told me, duuuude, those aren't goats--she has pit bulls! You are sooooo faded! No, no no! I shouted. I know a goat when I see one. I was scared to death because I swore I heard them making funny noises. While I was high, I would get really paranoid. Then really sad. Then I would cry.
But I never thought I had any sort of habit. I just thought I was having fun. It's natural and it's from the ground, I used to tell myself. It's not like a real drug, like speed or heroin or cocaine. My Dad smokes it, for crying out loud!
I was very fortunate that when I got pregnant with my first child, any and all desire to smoke a joint left me. Ewwww. Gross. That is what I think when I remember living everyday in a cloud of smoke, with a foggy mind and a fat tongue, stinky hands that reeked of resin, cotton mouth, puffy red eyes and the munchies. I should've bought stock in Jack in the Box. To this day if I eat their .99 tacos, I start looking over my shoulder for some popo's! I haven't touched the stuff since. It's been eleven years. I like to think of it as a phase, one of those stupid things you do in college. I was lucky...it didn't lead to anything else and I was able to stop without having to do rehab or anything like that.
These days I am a mama and it doesn't take a joint for me to get all paranoid about everything. You want to hear something freaky? I once heard this on a radio program...people who smoked alot of pot store a concentration of THC in the fat tissues of their body, resulting in flashbacks. Fatty tissues, eh? Over the years, I've had my share of flashbacks. My head gets all tingly, like my head is falling asleep or I am on a rollercoaster. It's the craziest thing.
And oh, it may have been eleven years but you can't tell me those weren't live goats! I guess that is just something I will take with me to the grave.