The Little Green Book: (a guide to breaking up with marijuana)

by Michael Stratton

“All men’s miseries derive from not being able to sit in a quiet room alone.” ~ Blaise Pascal

It seems to be in our nature to attempt to change. The Greek philosopher Heraclitus felt that change was the basic nature of reality and that it was impossible to step into the same river twice. If that’s true, why do we need to alter anything? It’s always altered already. Yet so many people perceive their surroundings to be in a sort of unbearable stasis, to the extent that they need to change where they are, what they are doing, and with whom.

In my experience with marijuana, I found that initially it satisfied so many needs. It enhanced all of my senses. Music sounded better. Food tasted better. Even sex was better! In the end, marijuana dulled my senses. I used to feel like I was putting on what I called my “stupid helmet” every time I smoked. I could feel my IQ dropping. I couldn’t remember the page I’d just read, couldn’t remember what I’d just said, couldn’t remember why I had come into a room. I was a hungry ghost. No matter how much I used, I always wanted more. “My drug of choice is more,” said my first sponsor. That insatiable hunger is what we are talking about. That’s what we’re up against.

I believe people who have an issue with marijuana don’t experience the kind of devastation many other addicts experience. Instead, heavy marijuana users just hit the PAUSE button in their lives. It’s just hard to get any traction, to follow through on your goals, to get motivated, have initiative, and get stuff done.

The other point is something else I was experiencing: Even though I had been a big fan of reading, I had gotten to the point that I read less and less. I had also stopped enjoying reading. This was connected to my short-term memory, which was shot. I’d get to the end of a page in a novel and realize I didn’t remember a word of what I’d just read. I knew if I couldn’t read, there was no way I could do graduate school. Reading wasn’t the only place memory problems showed up. I’d walk into a room only to wonder, “What did I come in here for?” or I’d be in the middle of telling someone a story, usually joint in hand, and then stop and ask, “What were we talking about?” I was baked.

many therapists tend to work in their own wounds. That is, they become “The Wounded Healer,” a concept explored by Carl Jung.

Addiction is a funny thing. The first person you need to lie to is yourself. And the lie needs to be convincing. The relationship with your substances of choice must be protected. And that protection takes the form of “denial.” And the building blocks of denial? Justification. Minimization. Rationalization.

At the end of these stretches there would be all this built up anticipation. I’d finally score, get it home and roll it up and take that first hit. And then, disappointment. After all that build up, I was just high again. I’d have the thought, “I don’t know what I was looking for, but this isn’t it.” I hadn’t learned yet the distinction between craving and using.

often when I’d take that first hit after an absence there was a feeling of disappointment. The craving was the thing, not the thing itself. Isn’t that interesting?

All of this fits some of the research that’s starting to come out on marijuana. The less gray matter in the brain, the less capacity the brain has to connect actions to consequences. And to lay down shortterm memory. And to generate motivation.