I finally stopped smoking weed. I started smoking in late June after a mushroom trip and was waking and baking for most of July. In August the smoking slowed to just evenings, and now in September it’s come to a complete halt. It’s weird how quickly I eviscerated the habit this time. Usually there’s a long drawn out goodbye, me tearfully bidding adieu to my beautiful sativa strains. This was much less dramatic. I just stuck the remaining buds I had in my fridge and am carrying on with life as usual.
I think my soft abdication of the habit is also a pretty significant reflection of my own maturation over the past couple of years. I was listening to tarot readings from 2022 and 2023 and I could hear the dark thud of my anxiety as I tried to navigate that time period. A space of safety was ripped up and replaced with the vicious face of a reality that I did not know how to manage. After therapy, weed, journaling, and countless hours of self reflection, what was once foreboding and dark has been gently conquered and left aside.
What’s weird about recovering from traumatic life experiences is that they teach you to become more bold. That by dragging yourself through the edges of your being and still managing to return to center, you realize that you can push the corners of your reality much further out than previously imagined. The previous two years, before everything fell apart, my life was in a gestation period where I built a vision for my future. The following years were the actual birth, a bloody ripping process in which the womb was destroyed and I was exposed to the deep seated darkness that prevented me from realizing my vision, and forced to conquer it.
I’m addicted to risk, to pushing myself to the edge and trying to build something there. At the center of my savage pursuits is a nectar, the sweetness of life, the richness of being, the reason why blood is a piercing red. The quiet gray of predictability fails to lure me from my war path.
No one should deny the danger of the descent, but it can be risked. No one need risk it, but it is certain that someone will. And let those who go down the sunset way do so with open eyes, for it is a sacrifice which daunts even the gods. -CG Jung
a soft death 