How my sobriety has evolved over the years.
PART 2. Years 2019-2022: Exploring and reimagining my chosen sobriety.
The first three to four years of my sobriety, I was unapologetically enthusiastic about this lifestyle. And having created a community of other non-drinkers, I was loving the camaraderie. Even if most of the people I knew were people I met online.
I had made a name for myself and found a way to be creative while adding value to others, something I have always craved. Through my own therapy work, I have learned that I never question my value when I am in the hospital. I know my value there. I know I am great at my job, and I also get so much back from helping people. It’s when I am outside of work, not doing something for someone or being productive in some way, that I become restless and stressed. Relaxing for me is hard, though it may not look that way. Someone may see me lying on a couch or sitting on a beach and think I don’t have a care in the world, meanwhile, I am internally going bananas about how much time I am wasting. And that sitting, lying still, is actually me in freeze mode. That’s me attempting to relax, but I’m judging the sh*t out of every second of it. That’s my overactive brain firing non-stop, but my body is too exhausted to do anything. And this is what I have been working on for the past few years. Resting without feeling overwhelming guilt and pressure, learning to feel worthy and valuable even when I am just being, and not necessarily doing.
It was around 2018-19 when I stopped sleeping that I started to fall apart, and I was forced to look for help. I remember standing in front of my boss in tears, telling her I felt impaired after another night of three hours of sleep. This was years before I learned anything about perimenopause, and I had no idea how to help myself. I just knew that something had to give. And this is when I made the decision to try CBD/THC for sleep and stress, or so I hoped.
I had smoked pot when I was a teenager, but it was never for me. I honestly hated the feeling, and I usually just found myself in some kitchen eating complete and utter junk until whatever party I was at ended, and I could go home and sleep.
At the time, Los Angeles felt like it was on the cutting edge of something, with all the legalized recreational dispensaries popping up like Apple Stores. When I found myself standing in front of one with my husband, I remember feeling like a guilty teenager all over again. I wore sunglasses and a baseball cap pulled down low. My husband wouldn’t stop laughing at me. When I passed over my ID to the check-in counter, I thought the cops or, worse, the Instagram police were going to jump out at any moment and splash my name all over the internet.
“The Sober Glow Caught Buying Weeeeeeeeeeeeeed”
But I kept going because I knew I would try anything to help alleviate the hellfire of insomnia I was going through. And, as nervous as I was, I also knew very well that marijuana was never my thing, and I was not in any danger of it being a gateway drug.
Before I go on, I want to be very clear: none of these decisions were made willy-nilly. I am historically very intentional when making big (and small) decisions, especially about my health. I had many conversations with my husband about what it would mean for me to try THC and all the possible outcomes. In the end, the importance of my health and sanity outweighed (by a freaking landslide) what others' perception of me could be from anyone who knew me as sober. The opinions of friends, internet friends, or internet strangers did not matter to me more than what I needed and knew to be true. All this said, with the internet full of sobriety police at that time, I made the decision not to share this publicly. As always, I had to quietly navigate this for myself, similar to the first year after I quit drinking.
One thing is certain: I will always stay true to myself first.
As the little researcher I am, I decided to take the dose during the day so I could feel the effects without worrying that something might go awry and ruin another night of sleep. Plus, I wanted my husband to be present with me and not next to me, snoring away, oblivious to any drug-induced spiral I may potentially fall into.
Now it seems like overkill, and so silly, all that time and attention I put into that first experiment. But I don’t regret how I handled it. And I would advise anyone in my position to do the same thing with the same consideration and seriousness.
Over these past few years, with THC and other plant medicines, as well as ketamine therapy, my decision-making process to implement something starts with a massive amount of research and self-study, conversations with people I trust and respect, and, most importantly, doing it with incredible self-awareness and groundedness.
But on a lighter note, my first experiment went like this….