(Trigger Warning – Substance Abuse and Chaos)

“It is easier to stay sober than to get sober”

Originally Published January 8th 2025

I feel the chilly breeze tickling my warm skin as tiny raindrops fall on my head while I walk up a steep hill. Tears stream down my face as I kick acorns and hear crows squawking overhead. Do they know how terrible I feel? Are they mocking me? The girl who cried sobriety is on yet another journey to quit cannabis. As I write this, I am 35 years old, two years alcohol-free, and I couldn’t be prouder. However, my weed problem has reared its ugly head, and I can no longer ignore it. My all-or-nothing existence has officially come to a close. I have lived the fuck out of my life and I am ready to find stability.

Retiring from my party-girl lifestyle is one of the most challenging endeavors I have ever attempted. When I first got sober, it felt like the old me had died, and I had to find a new way to live. What has driven my never-ending desire for drinking, smoking, sweets, pills, sex, exercise, shopping, and more? Much of it stemmed from my poor high-sugar diet, excessive caffeine intake, terrible routine, erratic sleep schedule, and untreated bipolar disorder. I developed numerous problematic substance abuse patterns, making it hard to find my way out. Who am I without my addictions and mental instability? I had no idea, but I knew I needed to find out.

Since I was 15, I found it easier to use alcohol than to confront my root issues and trauma. I knew I had a problem but wasn’t ready to get serious about it. At 21, I became “sober curious,” starting frequent abstinence challenges to prove I didn’t have a problem; however, deep down, I knew I was struggling with addiction. Initially, it was easier to get messed up, but then it became hell. It wasn’t fun anymore; it turned into a self-perpetuating nightmare.

It has taken me a long time to maintain any period of sobriety. I have been trying to stay sober from alcohol for almost ten years. The first step is awareness and honesty, but that’s hard to achieve when you’re in denial. My initial break from booze was a four-year stint that began in 2014 when I graduated college, and my “check liver” light came on. It was hell. I hated being sober and felt so uncomfortable in my own skin. I didn’t even know how to exist. I was constantly in a state of fight or flight and on edge. I hated myself and my past. It felt like too much to deal with.

During the times I was clean and sober, I felt like a complete imposter. I always asked myself how long I could keep this up before I crashed back into my comfort zone. I would get sober, feel like total trash, then run away and get messed up again. Then I would try to get sober once more, and then again, and again. It was terrifying and exhausting, but I am grateful I was brave enough to keep trying. It has taken me years to reach a comfortable place without alcohol, and now it’s time to do the same with weed.

Since 2023, my outlook on alcohol has completely changed, thank goodness. I now view it as a socially acceptable poison that could ruin my health and my life. I have learned that booze is the most dangerous drug on the planet. Alcohol kills more people worldwide than any other drug and is linked to over seven different types of cancer. Scary stuff.

Besides the alarming mortality statistics, alcohol hijacked my mental health, made me gain weight, ruined my skin, put me in dangerous situations, kept me broke, caused me to make huge mistakes, damaged my relationships, and led me to be sexually assaulted multiple times. It also made me lie, put me in the hospital for alcohol poisoning, almost killed my mom, and took my dad’s life. Due to these factors, I don’t ever want to drink again.

What benefits have I noticed from not drinking for two years? A ton! I look and feel younger, have significantly more energy, have clearer skin, have improved finances, maintained a healthy weight, lower blood pressure and cholesterol, have a better memory, am able to stick to my goals and routines, stable moods, freedom from regrets, sounder sleep, increased creativity, I do more reading and writing and I’m reliable and true to my word. My self-esteem is higher, I experience less anxiety and depression, my relationships have improved, and I feel more connected to myself and the world. My mental, physical, and spiritual health are at their best. Sobriety has helped me grow up and become more responsible. I feel thankful every day that I made the rebellious decision to quit drinking.

As I got deeper into my sobriety, I started using cannabis as my new crutch. It happened gradually, but like everything I have done in the past, I always took it too far. My first terrible high occurred when I was 25 years old. Before this, I had smoked a couple of times, but I hadn’t given much thought to cannabis until I got into a bicycle accident and broke my hand. I was in San Luis Obispo, California, staying at a hostel and exploring new living arrangements when I hit a curb wrong and flew over the front of my bike. Fortunately, someone witnessed the accident and came to my aid. When I saw my pinky finger sticking out to the side, I immediately passed out from shock. After receiving medical treatment, I struggled with insomnia for days. Eventually, I decided to try edibles for the first time to help me sleep.

In 2014, marijuana was only legal for medicinal use in California, and there was a donation-based delivery system for it. I found some questionable brownies online and had them delivered. Sitting around a table with my new friends from the hostel, we unwrapped our sweet treats. Struggling to open the wrapper with my arm in a cast, I cut the brownie into pieces. After eating half of it, I made the rookie mistake of saying, “I don’t feel anything.” My friends laughed and encouraged me to eat the other half. An hour later, I experienced the worst trip of my life.

I began having panic attacks and delusional thoughts. I rushed to the public restroom and collapsed on the floor, hysterically crying and screaming, “I’m not going to make it! Please help me, I don’t want this to be the end. I beg you, please help!” In my distressed state, I stumbled around, trying to find my bed. I was a total mess and had no idea where I was. The next thing I knew, the manager confronted me and asked why I was in the men’s living quarters. I could hardly form coherent words as I tried to explain myself. I was so embarrassed but too high to come up with a reasonable answer. Luckily, the guy I had a crush on covered for me at that moment by saying, “Oh, don’t worry. She is with me.” By “with me,” he meant we had hooked up several times on the bunk beds and were deeply in love.

After this experience, I was scared but intrigued by how fucked up I could get from weed. I took some time to think about it and eventually moved to Oregon, where cannabis was legal. After my dad died, he left me a little money, which I spent on edibles and hotel stays. I traveled around the country but barely remembered anything. At this point, I didn’t actually know how to smoke weed properly, so edibles were just easier, but much more potent and expensive. I was greening out almost every day.

With weed I was a feen. The moment the joint hit my lips, I wanted to be high forever. It became the most addictive thing I’ve ever tried. During these binges, my life revolved around racing to the ATM and spending my hard-earned money on weed and junk food. I didn’t care whether it was flower, edibles, or vapes—I just wanted to numb myself. The routine was always the same: I would get high, stop following my healthy routine, binge on junk food, sleep for weeks, gain 10 pounds, sober up, lose the weight, get stable, crash, and repeat. It was ridiculous.

After getting high thousands of times, I’ve accumulated my share of shameful and frightening stories. I will never forget the time I became severely dehydrated from drinking and had a seizure from a vape pen. It was terrifying; I turned blue and passed out—twice. I drove high when I shouldn’t have, ate dozens of cookies in one sitting, and mixed weed with alcohol, which made me vomit. I endured bouts of panic attacks and paranoia. I smoked so much during vacations that I can barely remember them. Despite all of these alarming experiences, I still wasn’t ready to let go of my marijuana madness. I was thoroughly addicted to cannabis and had no idea how to remove it from my life entirely.

Under the influence of weed, I became a recluse. I didn’t want to leave the house or communicate with anyone, not even my partner. The upbeat, fun, outgoing version of myself disappeared. That’s what I hate about weed. I stop reading, writing, working, and exercising, and I lose respect for myself. When I’m in active addiction, I feel lost and trapped; all I care about is my next fix. I become a shell of a person, and all that matters is my addiction.

For the past couple of years, I have taken long breaks from cannabis, constantly deluding myself into thinking I could control and moderate my use. However, I can’t moderate anything when it comes to alcohol and weed. I even tried telling myself sweet lies, like I could only have one drink, or I could only smoke at night. Both are false for me. Once I start smoking, I never want to stop. I become scared of life and just want to sit on the couch doing nothing. I cover up my feelings with substances, smoking joints like cigarettes to achieve a constant low-grade numbness. After just a week of heavy use, I can hardly get high anymore because my tolerance increases from smoking so much.

Another side effect of cannabis that I detest is how it impacts my memory. I can have a great time with friends and family, but I often cannot recall entire conversations because I was too high. Since moving across the country eight years ago, I’ve rarely seen my friends and family from home, and I want to cherish those moments—not forget them. Yet, I can’t be present when I’m on pot. After social events where I smoke, I desperately try to piece together the nights while sweating with regret. I wish I could get back that time for a redo, but I can’t. This has happened too many times, and I’m sick of it.

After weeks of use, my mental health deteriorates significantly, and I can barely look at my own reflection. Binge-smoking weed depletes my brain chemicals and leads to severe mood swings and extreme irritability. This is always my signal to make a change and get clean.

Quitting weed is extremely difficult for me, but I’ve attempted it at least 40 times and have become accustomed to the uncomfortable withdrawal period. It usually unfolds in a familiar pattern: for days, I can’t eat or sleep, and I suffer from hot and cold flashes, extreme irritability, and relentless crying spells. Cravings overwhelm me, and I’m very indecisive, wanting to be in multiple places at once. I often feel like I’m burning up as if I need to resolve all my problems within 30 minutes. Every social event turns into a sobriety test. The only things that provide me with even slight relief are exercise, ice baths, and the sauna, so I force myself to do them daily to minimize my suffering.

By the fourth day, the withdrawal symptoms normally improve. However, the regrets then wash over me. As I gradually return to reality, I replay my hazy interactions and criticize myself. I become judgmental about everything I said and did while high or drunk. I torment myself with negative thoughts and spiral into shame. It gets dark quickly. I question my existence and wonder if I’ll ever escape my addictive tendencies. I stare in the mirror and ponder whether I’ll be trapped in this hell forever.

It has taken me years to realize that all the hard work I’ve invested in myself is only accessible when I’m clean and sober. Once I drink or use, I become like an untrained puppy, unable to control myself; I act foolishly and feel like an idiot. Once I made the connection between regret and substance use, I understood that if I stayed sober, I wouldn’t do stupid things. All I needed to do was find a way to maintain long-term sobriety, which felt impossible. Yet, I recognized that the key to improvement was being honest with myself and making necessary changes.

When I first entered recovery, it felt dull and lame. I wasn’t accustomed to being stable or sober. I didn’t know how to be myself or have fun without substances. I felt pathetic. I discovered aspects of myself that horrified me as I explored myself on a deeper level. Beneath my chaotic patterns, I found that I am a control freak with a perfectionist issue. It turns out I’m not chill or carefree; I’m extreme, neurotic, and obsessive—the trifecta. I can’t stand myself when I’m sober, so I desperately try to create new identities. Am I a runner? No. A Buddhist? No. A writer? No. A traveler? No. A fitness enthusiast? No. A stand-up comedian? No. I have bipolar disorder? No. I’m a great girlfriend? No. I guess I am all of these things, good and bad.

I previously embraced the sober curious movement; now, I am embracing the smoker curious movement. You can apply curiosity to any habit you want to change—be it fitness, caffeine, diet, sleep, vaping, or shopping. Question why you have the habit, how much you engage in it, and consider whether taking a break or modifying your behavior would be beneficial. The sober curious movement led me to become alcohol-free by taking long breaks and examining my behavior, and I am hopeful that the smoker curious approach will help me become weed-free.

Initially, I couldn’t go a day without using weed, but I kept learning new tools and trying again. I have reset my “I Am Sober” tracker hundreds of times and will never stop trying. Through watching videos and applying new tips, I managed to make it two days, a week, then a month, and eventually several months without using weed. At first, I could only manage to stay sober for 30 days before relapsing for two weeks. I would start again, reach another 30 days, then relapse for a week, repeating that cycle. I still struggle, but am getting better.

After many failed attempts, I realized I couldn’t do it alone and needed more support. I had convinced myself that cannabis wasn’t as problematic for me as alcohol, yet I was in denial. Weed had become very dangerous, and I needed to take it seriously. I started to worry about damaging my lungs, brain, heart, and teeth from smoking. I was also anxious about my constant weight fluctuations due to binge eating when high. I began to ask myself whether I wanted to waste my life being high or if I wanted to build the life of my dreams. It was time to commit and cut the excuses. I knew that if others could quit, so could I.

One day, during a therapy session, my therapist recommended Buddhist style recovery. She told me about two different groups called Recovery Dharma and Refuge Recovery. This was a new and intriguing concept for me. Luckily, my partner was also on board with cutting down on alcohol and weed and joined me. We attended our first meeting together and were instantly hooked.

At last, I found the support and community I had been searching for. I had previously tried traditional 12-step programs, but they weren’t for me. If they work for you, that’s great—keep going! But I quickly realized that I didn’t fit in with Alcoholics Anonymous (AA). Perhaps it was because the program, created by privileged white men, often felt dismissive of women’s experiences. To me, AA felt like the “Trauma Olympics” that kept people trapped in outdated victim narratives. I didn’t want to hear any more depressing stories that anchored me to the past; it was time to create a new, positive narrative.

I was finally ready to leave the past behind and embrace a Buddhist style approach to sobriety. Initially, I felt uncomfortable because I knew that those in recovery were aware of my darkest secrets— because they had lived through similar struggles. However, those fears transformed into acceptance and vulnerability over time, which I desperately needed. I never imagined I would find myself sitting in a Buddhist temple, openly discussing my addiction struggles with a large group of strangers, but here I am. The meetings are so genuine and beautiful that they often make me cry. As I maintained my sobriety from weed, I began to establish a new, healthy routine and even made new sober friends.

Today, I choose not to label myself as an alcoholic or addict. The alcohol industry coined the term “alcoholic” to shift the blame onto individuals rather than recognize the deadly and addictive substance for what it is. I am simply a person who chooses not to drink because it no longer serves me. I am someone who chooses not to smoke because I am a better person without it. Always do what you need to do to be the best version of you.

One habit that has helped me significantly is questioning my behavior as much as possible. I decided I wanted to be happy, healthy, and stable, so I had to start aligning my behaviors with who I wanted to become. I now ask myself: Is this helping me or hurting me? Is this what a healthy person would do? Is this going to make me better or worse in the future? Is this what a stable person does? I realized the only thing stopping me from my dreams is me. I was the only one standing in my way. My bad habits robbed me of the life I desperately wanted, so I needed to take action.

For my long-term recovery plan, the first step was daily meditation, which felt torturous at the beginning. However, I knew it couldn’t be worse than being trapped in active addiction, so I decided to give it a try. I started with a 10-minute practice every morning. While it initially brought up painful memories, I slowly learned how to sit with myself and be kind to my mind. Now, I can sit for over 20 minutes with my thoughts, which feels like a significant accomplishment. Meditation has completely transformed my life; it is the number one tool that has helped me achieve and maintain sobriety from alcohol. I’m now applying the same principles to my struggles with weed and other cross-addictions, like sugar.

In addition to meditation, participating in health and wellness challenges significantly supports my sobriety. Last year, I completed a challenge called 75 Hard and my own version of 75 Soft. This daily structure provides the framework to restart my life and practice sobriety. For 75 Soft, I followed these seven rules almost daily: 10 minutes of meditation, a 45-minute workout, reading 10 pages of a book, no social media, adhering to a clean Paleo-Mediterranean diet 80% of the time, drinking a gallon of water with some electrolytes, and avoiding weed and alcohol. These challenges have been game-changers for my sobriety. I also take ice baths a few times a week at around 46 degrees for seven minutes, which are my top tools for managing anxiety, alongside exercise.

Through my sobriety journey, I’ve gradually leveled up and become a better version of myself. I now strive to live a balanced life filled with healthy food, meditation, plenty of movement, adequate sleep, positive social interactions, and a solid routine. It has taken me over a decade, but I have finally crafted a life I don’t want to escape from. Now, I have an existence that fills me with pride and satisfaction, and for the first time, I understand what it feels like to be genuinely happy. I am no longer manic; I am simply happy, which is the most outstanding achievement of my life. I now believe that healing is possible. It has required immense effort, but finally I am where I am supposed to be, and I am grateful for that every day.

Are you struggling with addiction? My biggest suggestion is to embrace the sober-curious movement and seek help and support. Try to quit your addiction for 30 days and see if your life improves. I use the free “I Am Sober” app to track my sobriety streaks; you can focus on any addiction. Personally, I have not gone through formal detox or rehab, but those can be practical tools for recovery if you need them. It doesn’t matter if you must quit a hundred times; just keep trying. Remember, it’s about sobriety practice, not sobriety perfect. Programs like “75 Hard” and “75 Soft” can also be beneficial. By integrating new positive habits and coping skills, negative influences will begin to fade away. Fill your life with so many good things that there’s no room for the bad.

Always remember, you are just one choice away from a new life. With a commitment to diet, exercise, good sleep, sobriety, and support, you can completely change your existence in just one week. If you’re struggling, take this as a sign to step toward recovery. Make that call, schedule an appointment, send that email, look for a new meeting, and fire off that text. If I can do it, you can too! Sometimes, our greatest regrets turn into miracles that guide us toward the life we are meant to live.