Written by, Stefania M.
*Trigger Warning: Sexual Abuse, Child Abuse and Threats Against Life*
Hi everyone, my name is Stefania, and I am a marijuana addict. Generation X here and grew up as a hard core Italian. A generation of new breakthroughs, independence and resilience. The generation of “Lachie” kids. Also a beautiful culture, one of food, wine, scenery, history, and deep religious roots.
But speaking for myself, being a child of a traditional Italian immigrant family back then was not easy and it came with a lot of deep silence and traditional control. I learned very early to split myself in two: the girl who smiled for the family, and the girl who was dying behind that smile.
My parents separated when I was six months old. They were then shunned upon due to their divorce. They gave all legal rights to my mother‘s parents. So I ended up being raised by my grandparents on a vineyard in the mountains of BC.
To the world, it looked like a postcard; inside, it was a nightmare of child abuse that lasted ten years. I was sexually molested by my grandfather. I kept this a secret, my whole life from my grandmother. Learning to lie to protect my life and hers was a coping mechanism at an early age from fear of the threats of unaliving us if I said anything.
By twelve, I was sent to Toronto to live with a mother who was a stranger to me. The move was due to my grandfather’s passing. So I traded one nightmare for another, now witnessing extreme domestic violence and living under a shadow of constant terror.
By fourteen, we were in a shelter, and I was working full-time under the table just to help my single mother survive. That was when I found marijuana.
Marijuana became a way to push through my days with some excitement and laughter.Now I’m not gonna get into the nitty-gritty of my use of Mary Jane because we’ve all walked that path…different stories but same insanity of the drug. But I will tell you it became part of my identity for 35 years. It didn’t just become a habit, it was my only escape from a world that felt like it was constantly trying to break me.
By seventeen, that need to escape spiralled into heavier substances and the sex industry, all just to survive the weight of what I was carrying. I remember feeling an urge to just run from everything. In fact, I ended up doing just that. I eventually fled to the Dominican Republic. Why there, do you ask? Because I remembered family vacations there in my teens…it felt like freedom in paradise. Like how I would imagine heaven to be. I was desperate to find peace. But history repeated itself; I fell in love with a local like you see in the movie Havana Nights that turned into a monster from alcoholism later on.
I realized in that experience I couldn’t run away from the brokenness inside me. I eventually found the courage to leave and escape back to Canada. Through all that darkness, I realized I was a warrior. If I take a few steps back and look at it all..sober…present and clear minded…in life…I was always blessed…with resilience, positivity, love, and compassion for others, with two amazing boys and once an amazing career.
As a single mother, I handled everything—the bills, the parenting, the professional world—no matter what state I was in. I was a high-functioning marijuana addict. I wore the mask of the successful woman for most of my adulthood, using the drug to numb the bipolar, the PTSD, and the physical pain of Fibromyalgia and Graves’ disease. I was convinced that my prescribed medication wasn’t doing the job. This is when I began to smoke heavily. I was ‘dead alive’—a zombie who was performing perfectly for the world while starving for peace inside.
Behind that mask, I was also carrying a massive, frozen weight of grief. In my journey, I have had to go through a deep and painful grieving process of losing my grandfather, my grandmother, my mother, and my father. Because I was numbing myself for three decades, I never truly processed those losses—the complicated grief of losing the people who both raised me and the people who failed me. I stayed in a state of ‘functional mourning,’ where I could do the work of living but couldn’t do the work of feeling.
With all that trauma, I have 27 years with my psychiatrist. Ten years of codependency meetings. I even worked their Steps. I have spent decades seeking help, yet I continued to self-medicate with marijuana throughout all those years. I told myself it was okay because I felt that it didn’t control me like other drugs did. I thought because I was still functioning, I was safe. But the joke was on me. It ended up destroying me in the end, keeping me in a fog where the therapy couldn’t truly take root. I had all the tools to heal, but I was too high to actually pick them up and use them. In fact, during the 35 years of being high, I never once said I had a problem. I never even thought of quitting, ever.
In the beginning, marijuana was my escape; it felt like a warm blanket that made me feel calm, creative, and relaxed. Over time, that “magic” faded into a habit, and I started using it just to feel normal and get through the day. By the end, the relief was gone—it felt like a cage that left me feeling isolated and disconnected from my real life.
Everything changed on January 25th of this year. I was doing a guided meditation to sleep that triggered a massive panic attack by taking me back to my inner child. I freaked out!!!!!! I realized I couldn’t be a ‘high-functioning’ ghost anymore. I couldn’t numb the truth for one more second. I asked Google for help, and it led me straight to Marijuana Anonymous.
I felt strange at first, but within days, I knew I was home. I found my tribe in groups like this. I threw myself into recovery, attending 130 meetings in my first month. I began to chase my sobriety like I chased my drug. It felt like the medicine I truly needed to face my life without a crutch. Things started to happen from there, I called them things, but now I called them MA miracles. I’m not going to lie. It wasn’t easy, but it was simple. I found my sponsor the second week in and we clicked immediately!
During the process of my sobriety journey, I slipped twice and now I’m happy to say I’m 24 days sober today. That’s a big step for someone who was not thinking to quit. I went hard attending five to six meetings a day. I started to find out I was a writer, and I loved to journal and write poetry. I opened up and started to share. I do service any chance I get, put my number out there for fellowship, and have done lead shares. I’m also a member of the world MA literature group and found a passion for meditation. Most importantly, I’ve learned to incorporate prayer and meditation in my life as a daily practice.
I purchased the Life with Hope book and the Life with Hope Workbook downloaded the app and started logging in my sobriety time. I’m now working the steps with my sponsor.I’m currently on Step Four. And wow, I’m learning to let go of all those resentments I mentioned. I found out I have a lot of fear, no matter how strong I thought I was. I also discovered I have a lot of good assets.
During my Step journey I’ve also learned to accept that I’m an addict and I have an addiction to marijuana. I have rediscovered a Higher Power that is pure love, not the punishing God of my upbringing and it’s letting me see the patterns of my past—from the vineyard to current—so I can break them for good.
Recently I took a walk outside and the world was in high definition. I heard the birds chirping and the geese migrating home. The sounds were so vivid and clear. For the first time in 35 years, the fog was gone, and I felt truly alive. I’ve noticed in sobriety I am more present for my family and friends and my dogs. I’m aware of my faults and move forward with more awareness. I have time to practice self love. I learned to have patience with the process. I’m into art and pottery again. Most importantly I’m eating healthy and taking care of my body.The journey hasn’t been all glorious. I still deal with withdrawals—the sweats, the shakes, and facing my physical pain head-on. But my Higher Power gave me a gift: the ability to always find the positive in the negative. That survival skill that kept me alive as a kid is now the skill that keeps me sober.
The greatest gift that MA has given me is the love I feel when I enter these meetings. I receive so much strength from every single person in these rooms—from the newcomers who remind me of my first terrifying day, to the ‘oldies’ who show me that long-term peace is possible. I have grown to love every individual in these groups. I admire your struggles, I admire your raw honesty, and I am humbled by the way we show up for each other. You all have taught me that I don’t have to be a ‘high-functioning’ solo warrior anymore. I can just be Stefania.
I am so incredibly grateful for this organization and for the beautiful souls I have met in these meetings. You have changed my life in ways I never thought possible. I am no longer fighting this alone. My dream one day in the future is to give back by starting a Step 11 meditation group, becoming a sponsor one day myself, and perhaps even becoming a life coach. Until then it’s one day at a time.
Today, I surrender the fight. I stop trying to be the hero of my own story and I let higher power take the lead. There is a peace in that surrender that no substance could ever give me. I am no longer “dead alive.” At 24 days sober, I am blessed, I am awake, and I am grateful for MA and the God of my understanding.
I want to leave you with a quote by Maya Angelou that resonates with my soul: “You may encounter many defeats, but you must not be defeated. In fact, it may be necessary to encounter the defeats, so you can know who you are, what you can rise from, how you can actually come out of it.”
