Written By, Joel G
October first, and as I seem to at this time of year, I’m thinking about my sobriety date—which is a few days away—and I’m thinking about how it’s been. I hear the neighbor coughing in his back shed and I can smell that skunky smell. He’s always out there around this time, choking down his hits, hiding from his kids. Of course, they know what’s going on, they always do; I always did.
My wife is reading and listening to music. We’ve been together since 2005, we were friends for ten years before that, and she’s never had to see me high (I got clean October 6th, 1989). It will be thirty-six years if I can just make it till Monday, but I suspect I probably will.
Thirty-six passes around the sun, one spin at a time feels like a long time, and makes me feel old. I have to try pretty hard now to remember those last desperate days, weeks, and months prior to putting weed down for good. I’m thinking lately about myself, critiquing myself, judging myself, all the while knowing how ultimately pointless that is except as it relates to making changes from this moment on. I’m one of those “marijuana and all other mind-altering substances” kind of addicts in recovery. I don’t lean on any of it. I face what comes clear-minded and faithful. I have seen and been around a lot of alcoholics and other kinds of drug addicts in my time, but marijuana was always my drug of choice, and Marijuana Anonymous has always been my home.
Most of those I’ve known that have died haven’t died because of weed, mostly it was booze, a few it was heroin and things like that. But marijuana was killing me when I was using it. Killing all the good future I could have had, that I do have. There is no way that I could have gone to graduate school, married my wonderful wife, or had the interesting and rewarding career I’ve had if I had been getting stoned.
So, what are my regrets about my sober years? Mostly they are about the extra steps I could have taken to reach out to others. Especially a couple that I cared about who died. Marijuana Anonymous, is however a program of attraction not promotion. I know I did help one guy, maybe two, and who knows, maybe a few others of whom I am not directly aware. I will however always think of Nancy, whose dad came to my house one afternoon begging me to help her, and I did not, or more likely could not. She died a couple months later. It wasn’t weed that did it, it was booze, but still I wish I’d gone to find her and made an offer to help. I wish she had the opportunity to still be alive. She was my friend’s kid sister and younger than me.
What I truly believe, when It comes right down to it, is that we do what we can, and sometimes what we must. I can’t kid myself either, that another person’s life or death is ultimately in my hands. I’m talking about whether someone gets clean and survives. I know that I don’t have that kind of power, but I also remind myself to try and to do what I can when the path is clear before me. I continue to work with addicts, with the one guy I sponsor, and with the many I see each week in my professional practice. I also try to be a good husband, son, and brother. And every day for the past 13,149 I haven’t gotten high. It’s another day soon to be over too. The coughing neighbor has gone inside. The smell of his skunk-weed blows off and the air is fresh again. My dog is looking right at me and I could swear that he’s smiling.
Dr. Joel
