How Weed Saved My Life

Or How It Allowed Me to Live It


By now, many stoners (if not all) are familiar with the health benefits of cannabis. Medical marijuana is now associated with the treatment of anxiety and depression, among other conditions. However, to me, weed is something much more than just another drug to help with my mental health issues. It is like an emotional painkiller and it helps me heal from within. It essentially saved my life when I was at my lowest. And it continues to do so.

I use weed as a motivator, a reward, something I use to bargain with myself and look forward to. It’s what gets me out of bed in the morning and what makes my commute back home more enjoyable. Knowing I’ve got my best friend Mary Jane waiting for me at home is incredibly reassuring. In essence, it’s not just a “helping hand” as much as a “very necessary life saver.”

Now, of course, I am aware of the negative health consequences of weed. It can trigger schizophrenia if there’s a history of it in your family, affect your sleeping and eating patternsm and at least in my case, make it impossible to get rid of my persistent cough. Luckily, there’s no history of schizophrenia in my family and I will gladly endure any physical side-effects as long as I can fit weed into my daily schedule.

I cannot begin to explain the difference it makes in my life. It drastically changes my perspective on everything, and in the way I interact with people and respond to adverse situations. When sober, socialising with people makes me suspicious and irritable. When high, I am understanding and patient. When sober, everything is a challenge and a chore. When high, the world is complex but beautiful in its own way. Everything makes sense.

Once the smoke goes down my throat and I exhale it, I can immediately feel my mind and body calming down. I can see things more clearly. If I’m angry at someone, I can put myself in the other person’s shoes and come to a closure. If I’m hurt or upset, I can bring myself to forgive. If I’m confused, I am open-minded enough to consider other explanations. When I’m bored, I am fascinated by every mediocre YouTube video. And when I’m sad, it’s like an invisible hug that comforts me.

For those that experience paranoia when smoking weed, I’m sorry you can’t enjoy it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not immune to paranoia. This one time I was smoking a joint in a park in Vienna, I was convinced this black van that had just parked in front of me was a police van and that any minute now, a group of armed police officers would come out pointing guns at me, shouting that they knew what I was doing. If you have the misfortune of living in a country where marijuana is illegal, you might relate to a certain extent to how I felt on this occasion. However, there are some people that simply cannot handle how paranoid weed makes them. And to those people, I repeat, I’m sorry.

Because when I smoke weed, I become the most trusting, loving, caring person. And I feel like it’s a shame it’s not an experience everyone shares.

Perhaps I simply associate with good times, with past enjoyable memories. The first time I got really high was in a heavy metal festival when I was a teenager. I wasn’t even really supposed to be there as it was only for over 18+'s but this is Spain in crisis and as long as you paid for your ticket, you were in. I mean, I am not exaggerating when I say there were pot brownie sellers 30 feet away from the police officers around the festival. If you’re wondering why these sellers weren’t arrested, that’s because it would be counter-effective to scare away future festival goers, which contribute to the local economy. The police also didn’t mind when I, stoned out of my mind and stinking of weed, asked them directions to the toilet, which I would later hallucinate in, seeing faces on the floor tiles and hearing music when someone flushed the toilet. That stoned.

But I digress. The point is that I associate good vibes and if you’re depressed or anxious, it can momentarily take you back to the beautiful bubble of a dream that you were in.

Despite the benefits, I understand I can’t rely on weed forever. I wouldn’t say I am addicted now but I was definitely addicted to it in some way. However, weed was and still is an emotional painkiller to me, so could you really say I was addicted to it? Or was I rather addicted to the relief of the pain going away?

If you’d like to hear more high stories (and plenty of other more serious stories), you can let me know by sharing this with your friends or gifting me if you feel like it. :) Until next time! 

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How Weed Saved My Life
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