I have a new weekend hobby, which is wake up, get some weed, buy some coffee, and go to the gym. It’s a good way to start the day and it helps me relax and think more creatively about my life. I kind of feel like I did when I was dating my ex boyfriend. The relationship was stressful, and I remember I would take time away from him to smoke and reflect, figure out my next steps.
It’s weird to bring weed back into my life after admonishing myself for smoking so much of it over the past couple years. I’m kind of past the point of berating myself though and am starting to see it as an incredibly useful tool for managing my anxiety. When I got back from Guatemala my brain scattered in a million different places and I couldn’t get my fucking head straight. Smoking weed and drinking coffee calmed me down and helped me dial into the thoughts I was somatically experiencing.
Yesterday I was an absolute mess. I had to wash my hair but I was too lazy to get into the shower. I had rubbed oil into my scalp so my hair was weird and frizzy and curly, and on top of all of that was a tiny layer of rosemary oil. I felt so defeated by life I wondered around stoned and caffeinated with my hair absolutely insane. New York is a city that prides itself on perfect optics, so to relinquish them and lean into my own madness was comforting and liberating. I took a shower though and my hair is straight and presentable. All is well in that department.
Having a moment to walk around the city, the Lower East Side, and be an absolute mess was delicious. It let me furiously feed off of all the emotions I was experiencing, to process them deeply while listening to tarot readings. I realized today that I always had an escape plan whenever I worked a desk job, a bigger picture to chase. For so many years that had disappeared, and now it’s finally back.
a soft death 