Growing up in the Deep South, I was surrounded by strict morality. My parents were very unyielding in their own ways, making sure the leash was tight at all times. They didn’t offer much explanation as to why I couldn’t do or say certain things, just that I simply couldn’t and “that was that.” While I didn’t think much of it, access to the internet in middle school expanded my view of worldly norms outside of my deeply rooted Christian values. 

My world was rocked when I reached high school. Everything was entirely different from what I knew and was brought up to believe. I still went to church every Sunday, but this was when I truly started to think critically about the world around me. 

Exploring the new freedom that came with entering high school led me to push boundaries and try new things, including marijuana. I was scared at first and wasn’t sure if it was something I wanted to go through with; nevertheless, I did. 

I sat down with some friends in their garage, nervous and unsure of what I was getting myself into. A few minutes later, I was on cloud nine and all the overthinking turned into laughter. 

It was about a year before I smoked again, not for any particular reason other than the time and place were never right. When I did, it was with my best friend. We started hanging out a lot over the summer. With her parents gone at work, it was easy to get away with our activities. 

In earlier days of regularly smoking, it felt freeing. It was an escape from the same repetitive pattern of my day-to-day life. I felt more creative and passionate and saw the world in an intensely positive light. 

Everything changed when we were caught. 

My best friend’s mom was hysterical, unsurprisingly. She wanted to know why we would do something like this and I couldn’t find a good reason. I knew it could help with pain and mental health, but no answer I gave was going to satisfy her, especially when I was mainly trying to have fun. 

She let my parents know what happened and repercussions followed, except for mine. Why? I have no idea, but this was around the time my relationship with weed started to change. 

The summer had ended and the 2018-2019 school year was starting. Finally, I could see my friends again.

We were having a sleepover when the topic of sneaking out popped up. All I could think was, “Why risk your freedom again?” But there I was, in some random guy’s car on the way to a kickback with people who thought we were older than we were. 

When we arrived, everyone was high, drunk or both. It was close to a scene you’d see on the television show “Euphoria.” There was cocaine on the coffee table, accompanied by bongs, pipes, half-filled cups of alcohol and a guy recording his song in the corner that would later be uploaded to SoundCloud.  

Surprisingly, I was unphased. I knew I wasn’t going to try anything other than weed, but looking back, I realize how naive I was to feel safe in that environment. 

My friend and I made it home in one piece that night. We were lucky. Even so, we continued sneaking out until I slowly started having worse experiences with marijuana. 

I started to feel increasingly paranoid after smoking and slowed down the pace significantly. I felt out of control with my own life and getting high scared me far more than it brought me any kind of happiness. There were several instances when I didn’t realize something was happening until after it did.  

After a couple of these experiences, I just stopped. I had enough. I was completely sober for years and honestly didn’t have any kind of craving to get high again until I met my ex-boyfriend. 

I introduced him to weed, but from there, he became out of control. People may think marijuana doesn’t have any addictive chemicals, but I witnessed firsthand how dependent someone can become on the substance. 

Graduating from high school allowed even more freedom and more time for my ex to get high. It turned from a weekly event to an everyday event to an every-hour event for him and I couldn’t and didn’t want to keep up. 

After a while, the days blended together and my memories were scrambled, and even though I quit, he continued. I watched as he fell deeper and deeper into addiction and begged him to at least slow his pace. It never happened and in turn, he begged me to get high with him. Smoking not only caused rifts between us but also between himself and his family. 

Over the years, I have seen smoking become more and more normalized in the media. I recognize the benefits marijuana can hold for so many people, but recreationally, the line can be very fine between enjoyment and addiction. 

I have considered enjoying a blunt now and then, but it seems more dangerous than it’s worth, at least in a state where it’s illegal. I’ve heard so many stories of young people dying from fentanyl-laced marijuana that I don’t think I could ever get to a point where I’d be as happy-go-lucky as I was in my early years of high school. 

While the feeling I once had is now lost to the sands of time, I am thankful for the life I have been able to live. Though it may not be much to be proud of, my experiences shaped me into the person I am today, and for that, I couldn’t be more grateful.