Going public?

Whether you go public as yourself or through the use of a cool pseudonym, finding a way that works for you to share about your real motivations and hindrances just makes it impossible to keep comfortably putting off your values.

Going public gives you direction, motivation, and connection with others like you who are on the same journey.

Conversations with me high that helped me not get high so much

This story is basically a series of conversations I had with my high self.

These conversations took place near the end of my medical marijuana addiction, which lasted over five years.

Preparing and sharing this story changed my perspective, enabling me to gradually grow beyond my addicted state to one of balance and control.

I’ve divided this story into seventy days for reading or listening if you like.

You could go through more (or less) than one chapter per day; but committing to something for seventy days might be a fun, helpful way to approach it as part of your process.

12-steps and rehab

In this story, I mention 12-steps and other methods.

I won’t comment on the role chemical treatment or rehabilitation might play in reversing the effects of drug addiction.

Certain chemical addictions might require chemical intervention or treatment, but that’s a question for a doctor.

It seems as though most recovery models (including mine) come into play after or alongside whatever other medical or chemical treatment is needed.

DAY 1 | My name is and I

My name is Andrew Knuon Finn, and I’m a...

About thirteen years ago, I met this girl through friends at a dance party.

We both took ecstasy, something neither of us were that experienced with.

Certain moments from that night are still so clear in my mind . . . glimpses of the two of us playing out scenes from old movies, the pills melting our inhibitions as we merged with warm, endless textures of sound, people, and beauty.

Two days later, we planned to take more pills at a water park out in the middle of nowhere.

On our way in the car, we both concluded that a full jar of ecstasy pills probably wouldn’t be the best idea for either of us.

We each saw within ourselves a tendency to swallow first and ask questions later.

That was a mostly fun time in my life.

I didn’t get hooked on pills or anything.

I’m now in my thirties.

I have a wife, a kid, a career...

I’ve been using medical marijuana for about five years, though I’ve actually been getting high off-and-on since I was a teenager.

Though certain weed experiences have felt irreplaceably valuable, I can’t deny I’m now addicted.

This story will be my search for balance.

I want to see if I can return from the uncontrolled chaos of addiction to a state where I use only intentionally—only when I actually choose to.

Rather than just a play-by-play of my own relationship with weed, my wider focus will be on learning to face, balance, and control all addictions and compulsions.

Here’s something I wrote while high about my hopes for what this story could be:

"I wish this really was as cool and spontaneous a cry for help as it might seem.

"It’s actually odd, and hopefully surreptitious (idk).

Maybe it’s something necessary in a safety-harness-for-the-fall sort of way...?

Basically, I’ve felt for a long time that sharing publically like this would be my first necessary step in bringing my addiction under control.

Here’s another high thought I wrote down years ago about how I define addiction:

Addiction is [secretly?] doing what you tell yourself not to.

It took me a long time to start working on this story because I thought it would mean having to commit to some strict plan for limiting my weed use.

I’ve lost all confidence in plans like that (or in myself to keep to them).

I actually have a whole bunch of weed left.

I’ll probably smoke some tonight after I work on this.

That’s a funny thing to say on DAY 1 of a story about controlling addiction; but it just goes back to this intuition I have that sharing my experience will be my first step toward recovery.

I believe if I just concentrate on going public, my addiction will basically take care of itself.

If my quest fails, and I end up so far off the wagon that this becomes yet another memory of another failed attempt, I’ll know my high thoughts and feelings about balance and control were really just the wild projections of a delusional addict—someone blindly clinging against all better judgment to his drug(s).

If that’s the case, I’ll join a twelve-step or other recovery program.

I’ll admit that I really am powerless to keep myself under control.

What do you think?

Is finding balance ever possible after addiction?

Right now, I do feel pretty powerless to stop myself from getting high.

I guess we’ll see how going public might change things for me.

Tomorrow: searching for magic.

DAY 2 | Magic

I had my first weed experience when I was about seventeen.

I was staying with this friend who had a strict policy not to do anything mind-altering on school nights, so I went to smoke alone outside by his pool.

Months earlier, someone had given me a puff from what was supposed to have been a joint, but I hadn’t felt anything.

So, standing by the pool that night, I decided to smoke as much as I possibly could.

I wanted to make sure it actually did something just so I could see what all the fuss was about.

I wasn’t sure what to expect.

After inhaling a few times, I was hit by the normal bout of rough, scary coughs and hacks common to all newbies.

I smoked some more.

I remember feeling pretty loose and relaxed as I made my way back in and up the stairs.

It was just a breezy, cool sensation that reminded me of the music I was listening to at the time.

Though this was the late ’90s, I was going through a classic stoner rock phase—bands like Doors, Led Zep, Jefferson Airplane...

Everything changed when my non-high friend asked me a question and I tried to speak.

He asked if I was high or how I was feeling.

I tried to say something like, Yeah, I’m cool, but what came out was more along the lines of: Yyyeeaaaaaaoouuuu knoooowwwww thaaaaat wwheeeen Iiiii taaaalk liiike Jaaaaaaack Nicholson . . . theeeeen Iiii’m coooll...?

I thought, ‘That was weird...’ as visions of Nicholson’s smiling face (complete with trademark sunglasses) split like a kaleidoscope and began to ping across my inner landscape.

From there, I shuffled to the bathroom and ate handfuls of toothpaste and water.

It tasted amazing.

One sensation I can still vividly remember from that night was this feeling that my whole body was hooked up to some sort of rhythmic, circling machine.

Inner vibrations like waves seemed to punctuate everything, even my thoughts.

I watched as my mind dissected in time to a wash of enchanting colors and sounds.

My friend was drinking and joking around.

He put a movie on, but I didn’t feel like paying attention to anything.

I just wanted to sit back in my big, soft chair and watch the world morph to a dazzling, pulsating swirl.

That night was half my life ago now.

It was a magical experience I know I’ll never forget.

There have been many other magical high experiences since, as well as a few scarier ones.

For the past several years, I’ve been smoking, eating, and vaporizing medical marijuana almost every day.

I know I’m addicted.

An important sign of addiction is tolerance.

That’s when the same amount of something affects you less than it did at first, so you need more to get the same effect.

Before I started putting this story together, I’d often get high before work, at lunch, after work, before dinner, after dinner, and until I fell asleep (every day).

The extreme tolerance I’d built up made magical experiences like my first high feel unreachable.

Yet being addicted, I was always driven to just keep using more and more.

Here’s something I wrote while high a few years ago:

"I should remember the first time I got high and the magic of that experience.

That’s a reason not to let myself stay addicted, just like it’s a reason not to quit completely.

If I can get high less often, then the experience will be more special and magical; then I won’t have to quit.

That’s the balance I’m hoping and searching for.

Tomorrow: more on how less can be more.

By the way, I really enjoy hearing stories like people’s first high experiences, or your first experience with whatever you’re trying to balance or control.

How has addiction changed the experience of weed or whatever else it is for you?

P.S. After writing today’s chapter, I got high and read through what I’d written.

My thoughts:

"I can still get just as high as I did that first time.

"I’m actually really high right now.

"There just seems to be something special that happens when I use weed less.

"That specialness (not the intensity) is the magic I’m looking for.

Like I said, I’ll share some of my more negative weed experiences as well.

DAY 3 | Less is more

I love hanging out at guitar stores.

I might spend hours jumping between all the acoustic basses and wooden six-strings.

Unbridled musical toy shopping can actually be an easy way for me to get myself in trouble.

I was surprised one day to find a good-looking nylon-string guitar online for only about $20.

I ordered it, not expecting much.

Truthfully, I’ve never found an instrument that sounds as beautiful or peaceful to me.

It’s also my most comfortable to play.

How does my love for guitars relate to controlling addiction?

Well, we’ll come back to the massive financial costs of an addiction like mine later.

For now, another story...

About two years ago, I somehow managed to make it through a few days without any weed.

Then I discovered some shake I must have left (or hidden) in my car.

Shake is just the thin, sparse leaves and stems from marijuana plants.

It’s not as potent as the buds people usually use.

Since I hadn’t smoked in a few days, I was blown away by how high I got from just that little bit of shake.

It was the same magical feeling I mentioned yesterday.

I wrote this about the experience (while still high):

"My best time with weed could really be like my best guitar: simple and cheap.

"It just seems like less can definitely be more—like what you’re compelled to do can be so much more beneficial if you wait for the right time for it.

It reminds me of that MGMT song.

I was talking about the MGMT song, Kids, where the chorus goes: Control yourself; take only what you need from it.

I don’t know what Kids is really about, but that line sure stuck with me.

I like the idea of having self-control so I can get more out of whatever I enjoy or use.

Even the Bible says, One who is full despises honey, but to one who is hungry, even bitter food tastes sweet.

Are certain experiences better or more special when you can have them less often?

Tomorrow: a darker weed experience.

P.S. After writing today’s chapter, I promptly got high and wrote:

"Well, weed isn’t ‘bitter’ like the food in that Bible quote...

Oh well.

DAY 4 | Inner battle

When I was twenty-three, I found myself at an odd religious get-together in someone’s living room.

Almost everyone there seemed way too cool for me to even talk to.

But there was this one friendly, charming guy who said he was bipolar.

As the group went . . . a different way . . . the bipolar guy and I began discussing our histories with weed, etc.

He said something along the lines of, Man, if you’ve gotten high, then you’ve had the most special, beautiful experience a human can have!

I wish we’d become friends.

I never saw him again.

I’ve always felt that weed can be very special, beautiful, and even helpful.

But I want to be careful not to share only my best high experiences with you.

That would be dishonest.

I mentioned my first, euphoric high.

I’ve also had scary highs, restless highs, exhausted highs, paranoid highs, silly highs, relaxed highs, hungry highs, sleepy highs, emotional highs...

There have been prolonged periods when smoking weed would mean being hit by waves of fear and inner turmoil.

Today I’d like to share about a particular experience that led to one of the worst of those frightful phases early on.

When I was eighteen, I wandered off into the woods one day with an incredibly simple goal: to smoke until I couldn’t continue.

I was fully determined to see just how high I could get.

With notebook and pens in hand, I was ready for whatever could happen with weed.

After the ritual of burning through more bowls than I cared to count, my inner world suddenly fell black.

Something like a battle erupted into being within my mind.

It literally felt like good versus evil—the good being my desperate search for some way to stay sane and hopeful in the midst of an evil consuming darkness that tore at me to my core.

No-matter what positive idea I tried to fall back on, the darkness simply swept through and overtook me, easily wiping out my little stabs at hope like waves demolishing sandcastles.

Each time it happened, I shook and threw up violently.

Near the end, I remember trying to keep as still as possible, just waiting and longing for everything to be normal again.

When I came to, I found myself sprawled across the ground beneath a fern tree, covered in dirt and vomit.

I couldn’t comfortably get high for quite a while after that.

Here’s a high thought I once wrote down:

I don’t want to take any kind of official stand against marijuana or drugs.

I do want to take the most objective look I can at the nature of addiction.

Do you think drug experiences can be special, beautiful, or valuable?

What if you’re addicted to the drug?

Have you had any negative experiences you’d care to share?

Tomorrow: addictions vs. life goals.

P.S. After writing today’s chapter, I got high and wrote:

"I was just a kid when I disappeared off into the woods that day.

"I do still have negative experiences with weed sometimes, but they don’t tend to include any of the hellish, epic imagery.

"Usually, I just feel sick and have to lie down if I overdo it with certain heavier strains.

There’s still sometimes that same feeling of just waiting in pain for the unpleasantness to end.

DAY 5 | Wrote while high?

What have you always most loved or wanted to do?

It’s okay if you’re not sure.

How might addictions or compulsions be hindering you from going after (or even knowing) your dreams?

When I was ten, I wrote this poem for school with my dad about an eagle.

It was chosen to be published with some other poems from kids at nearby schools.

As a child, I spent much of my time imagining new video games.

My parents probably still have boxes of old notebooks scribbled through with my little drawings and crude handwriting.

When I was eight, my teacher told me I was falling behind in most subjects, but that I wasn’t doing terribly in English.

It’s funny the sorts of specific things you never forget being told.

I enjoy writing.

I enjoy ideas.

Fun, for me, is when I suddenly get a sense of how two seemingly unrelated worlds might connect.

The work I’m most passionate about feels like excavating dinosaur bones—letting whatever’s buried be brought to the surface and reconnected with as little damage or interference as possible.

You’ve probably noticed the high thoughts I’m including in this story.

Well, I’ve actually been jotting down my high thoughts and intuitions ever since I started using medical weed.

Here’s one such high thought:

"Weed weaves itself into every fabric of my life.

Whether I’m taking a shower in the morning, driving to work, going for a walk...

I guess weed just makes those everyday activities more enjoyable.

But one of the biggest problems with being high all the time is it keeps me from accomplishing my writing goals.

When I’m always high, I can’t seem to sit and focus on developing a story or idea.

Here’s another high thought I wrote down:

My high intuitions are like unpolished daydreams—just random imaginations I feel compelled to capture whenever my mind wanders.

Five (plus) years’ worth of high daydreams can make for quite a few notebooks, scraps of paper, Word documents, cellphone recordings, emails to myself....

But weed addiction keeps me from developing even the ideas weed itself helps inspire.

Here’s another related high thought:

There are lots of good things about weed, but using too much hinders me in ways I can’t be hindered for what I want to do in life.

Do addictions hold you back from accomplishing (or even knowing) your dreams?

We’ll come back to this subject often, as I believe your dreams and passions can be some of the clearest signposts to reveal potential you’re currently being kept from reaching.

Tomorrow: when I can’t function without weed.

P.S. After writing today’s chapter, I got high and wrote:

"I hope it doesn’t sound like I’m holding up my high thoughts and intuitions as, like, Ultimate Truth, or some sort of cosmic revelation.

"My high thoughts are just pieces of my real experience, like all the rest.

Maybe my experience can connect with yours.

DAY 6 | The test #1 (spiders and the sudden-sobriety fuzz)

I was wandering around the garage one Saturday morning when I came face-to-face with this tiny spider, still and barely noticeable, on the daintiest of webs.

It was right in the spot where I’d usually get high.

As I began puffing away on a joint, I started to feel for the little creature.

I decided to send some smoke its way.

I hope that’s not animal cruelty.

I got hungry a little later, and assumed the spider had the munchies too; but I couldn’t see how it would ever catch anything in its spindly little web in the corner of our dark garage.

Getting a fly into that web became my mission for the weekend.

Actually, I’m glad my wife was away, because I basically left the garage door open and the lights on for two full days and nights.

I’m not sure if the spider ever ate.

It had disappeared by Sunday night.

My weekend with the spider happened to be the culmination of something I called The Test.

Now, my idea for The Test had been simple: I’d choose a random week to go from Monday through Friday without using any weed; then I’d get high again that weekend and record my experience.