Chapter 1: The Escape from Alcohol

For many years, one of the greatest pleasures I found in drinking was the opportunity to regularly disconnect from reality. This didn’t imply losing my sanity, but rather a blissful escape facilitated by the effects of alcohol. It’s an effective way to push aside one’s troubles and embrace happiness.

Recently, I watched a stand-up special by Jim Jefferies where he shared his choice to stop drinking. Given his history with alcohol, this revelation wasn’t surprising. He often humorously narrates his tumultuous relationship with drinking and the consequences of his behavior. Ultimately, he decided to quit for good, although he left the door open for the future, acknowledging that life is unpredictable.

Then he stumbled upon cannabis.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” he exclaimed. “Weed is amazing!”

He set up the audience to expect a deep, transformative moment, but we all anticipated his mention of marijuana. Like Jefferies, I had never given cannabis much thought; I was an alcohol consumer. Alcohol provided what I sought—a depressant that also seemed to uplift my mood, at least for a fleeting moment. No other substance quite matched that feeling.

I’ve encountered many reflective individuals who might argue that I’m simply trading one addiction for another, and they wouldn’t be wrong. Yet, I’m indifferent to that perspective. I have no desire to seek enlightenment through nature or meditation; sometimes, I just want to escape the chaos of life.

I chose to stop drinking because I felt it was adversely affecting my health—not because it was destroying my life. While I still indulge in a glass of wine on special occasions, I refrain from drinking at home to avoid slipping back into old patterns. I have moved beyond the desire for alcohol; I know what it entails, and I no longer crave it.

Initially, during the lockdown, I felt resentment and strong cravings for alcohol. After a brief return to drinking, I recognized that much of my fondness for it stemmed from its romanticized image. This was akin to my experience quitting smoking; the allure often outweighed the reality.

Now, I craft mocktails each evening without the alcohol. I enjoy the sensation that comes with those first couple of drinks, but beyond that, the experience fades into mindless drunkenness. The issue arises when heavy drinkers don’t stop at just two; why would they?

Not everyone feels the need to escape reality, and some may even enjoy life as it is. I often find myself questioning these individuals. Did they love high school? Do they engage in small talk such as “Isn’t it hot today?”? I don’t criticize them; I simply struggle to comprehend their perspective.

However, just because I don’t get it doesn’t mean it’s not valid. The more I learn, the more I realize how little I truly understand. Life is complicated enough without worrying about how others cope with it.

As a tool for calming the racing thoughts that plague my mind, marijuana does an admirable job. Its minimal side effects make it a preferable alternative to various other substances. While it doesn’t induce euphoria or delusions, it occasionally nudges me towards paranoia. Overall, if you’re in search of a means to unwind, it serves its purpose well.

At first, I primarily used edibles to help me sleep. Having relied on alcohol to lull me into slumber, the idea of quieting my restless mind seemed practical. Rather than resorting to pharmaceuticals, cannabis appeared to be a viable option.

I began with low-dose lozenges and mints, which I enjoyed, but I found edibles somewhat unpredictable. The delayed effects made them risky in certain social situations, such as enduring a child’s birthday party.

Having quit smoking nearly 15 years ago, I was not interested in returning to that habit. Initially, I also avoided vape pens; however, in New Jersey, where cannabis is legal, the variety of THC products is still limited. To explore different strains, I eventually turned to vape cartridges.

These days, I’ve developed a routine of using my vape pen most evenings after dinner. I wait until all my responsibilities are finished, which my wife refers to as “pulling the main switch.” It signifies that she’s off-duty for the day, ready to unwind with a book or a show. I can relate to that completely.

In the beginning, even the smallest hit would get me significantly high due to my lack of tolerance. Now, I can enjoy the effects without losing my functionality. While I wouldn’t indulge during work hours, I’ve managed to stay composed. I’ve shifted from being a blubbering mess to simply feeling relaxed, which is a positive change.

Now, I’m far less prone to lash out during moments of frustration, which I consider an improvement. While we often think it’s inappropriate to express frustration verbally, I believe it’s part of how society has found itself in this predicament. While I don’t condone violence, I’m perfectly fine with a well-placed verbal rebuttal.

I often claim that I use marijuana recreationally, but that’s not entirely accurate. My usage is more medicinal in nature. I have no interest in using it to socialize or entertain. I’ve never invited friends over for a smoke session, nor would I offer it like I would a cup of coffee or a favor.

Despite my attempts, I still crave the celebratory rituals associated with alcohol, ingrained in me by the media. Growing up watching shows like “MASH,” where characters sought solace in drinking to cope with the horrors of war, created an impression of alcohol as a necessary escape.

However, cannabis doesn’t serve as a recreational drug for me. It doesn’t enhance my social skills at gatherings. With enough alcohol, I could tolerate dull conversations and unpleasant company, but sober, I struggle to endure people. When high, I might even express my true feelings.

There are still occasions when I long for the satisfaction of celebrating achievements, like mowing the lawn, with a drink in hand. I miss the dual sensation of being both relaxed and energized simultaneously.

Yet, I’m learning to embrace the idea that some experiences should be faced soberly. With practice and patience, it’s possible to navigate the more challenging aspects of life. I keep my cannabis stash for evening use, where it complements my array of mocktails and doesn’t interfere with my writing. But it’s definitely not the same as a cocktail.

C’est La vie.

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Chapter 2: Cannabis as a New Companion