Never Enough: The Neuroscience and Experience of Addiction

by Judith Grisel

From the first delicious bong hits of the day until the final joint, I loved the taste, the smell, and the fabulous buffering effects separating me from the messy business of interacting with other people and fulfilling my daily obligations as, at the same time, weed lent promise of something new and glittering in the midst of the unappealing present. As an antidote to boredom, the drug made everything more interesting, and time and space delightful instead of threatening. An introvert to begin with, I loved spending hours stoned on the beach searching for shells and listening to lapping waves, a thoroughly engrossing way to pass the time. Not to belabor the point, but in many ways my relationship with the drug was among the purest and most wonderful relationships of my life. From the first time I got high until long after I’d smoked my last bowl, I loved marijuana like a best friend. This is not hyperbole. Some people it makes sleepy, others paranoid (due, no doubt, to an unfortunate confluence of neurobiology and genetics), but for me it was nearly perfect. One of my favorite moments was shortly after coming to consciousness in a new day and seeing for an instant the vast bleakness of life before me and then suddenly realizing—just as newlyweds might reach in excitement and hope for a spouse beside them in bed—that I could get high. The first few hits of the day were reliably comforting as the gray dust of reality was blown away to reveal beauty and meaning in everyday e...