Hi everyone,
I’m new here and wanted to share my journey. I’m 38 years old, and I’ve been smoking weed daily since I was 16. For years, I convinced myself it was something I needed. Something that helped me sleep. It felt harmless, especially since it’s now legalized in many states, so how bad could it be?
When I was 18, I was diagnosed with colitis, and at 22, I found out I had epilepsy. Some doctors even suggested that smoking might help ease my stomach pains and suppress my seizures. That felt like permission, so I kept at it. In my early years, I set rules for myself. I never smoked during school and later avoided it during work hours, though weekends often meant “wake and bake.” But every night, without fail, I smoked from around 5 p.m. until I fell asleep.
Over time, I convinced myself that I couldn’t sleep without it. I thought, “I only smoke at night, so it’s not a problem.” If I had a stomach ache or felt nauseous, I’d light up, and it seemed to help. But by my late 20s, my sleep began to deteriorate. I’d wake up in the middle of the night, smoke more to get back to sleep, and as I got into my 30s, things only got worse. I was up to three or four joints each night, along with a gram of concentrated oil every one to two days. My “supplies” were everywhere—pens under my pillow, in my pockets, and even between the sofa cushions.
Despite smoking more, it was no longer helping. I began to feel sick almost every day, especially with nausea. Hot showers and even more smoking would sometimes ease it, but I found myself relying on weed in every uncomfortable moment. Each time I tried to go to bed without smoking, I’d lie awake for hours, eventually giving in and smoking until I passed out.
The turning point came last week. I had smoked throughout the night, and suddenly, I felt my heart racing, hitting 198 bpm. I had a panic attack so intense that I thought I was dying. My fiancée had to call 911. It was the most terrifying experience of my life—I genuinely thought I was having multiple seizures. In that moment, I promised myself I’d quit.
The next day, I threw everything out. It’s been four days now, and on day three, I finally slept through the night for the first time in 25 years. I woke up clear-headed, focused, and feeling incredible. I wonder what took me so long to realize this, but I’m finally ready to admit my addiction.
Now, I’m trying to fill my evenings with meditation and keeping busy to fight the urge. It’s hard, but I keep reminding myself of the restful sleep and clarity I’m gaining. Thanks for listening.
Welcome to our group of wacky folks in recovery. You’ll fit right in. A lot of us have been in exactly your shoes. Eventually, the “party” is over, and you gotta clean up the mess.