Written by, Michael M.
For me, sunny summer days were made for using. At the pool. Before work. After work. For BBQ’s. For hikes in the woods. My friend used to say that weed was a “guaranteed good time.”
And for addicted me, summer was prime “party” time.
My mind wants to reminisce about how good getting high used to be.
But the truth is, getting high stopped being fun decades ago. The truth is, getting high had become a chore. A chase. A coping mechanism. It was for escaping. And running. It was a tool to tamp down my fears.
But somehow my addict brain wants me to frame it as “fun.” Because my addict brain doesn’t want me to remember how unmanageable my life had become. Because my addict brain wants to kill me.
The truth is summer is delicious sober. The cool water at the pool is sweeter sober. The cook-out is perfect sober.
And that’s why I keep coming back. So that I can remember the real story. So that my brain doesn’t try and pull a fast one on me. So that I remember what happens if I pick up.
