Written by, Martha S.
The start of my sobriety from weed coincided with the end of my 24-year-marriage to the man who was originally my gay best friend. We had adventures. We survived 9/11, left the City to start a small farm in the mountains, adopted an infant from an African country (both of us parents white and idealistic,) sold the farm and raised our boy; he is 18 now.
Now I am single and back out as lesbian. During the marriage I always identified as a lesbian married to a man, to those who cared enough to know. I was continually high except for the first 9 years of our son’s life.
When my son’s father and I started being lovers, the sex was divine and stayed so for about 3 years—but it was always penis-centric and I never got past missing a woman’s body. He did not use cannabis or much alcohol. I used pot daily and alcohol to bring myself down enough to sleep. The marriage survived a long time with these imbalances.
Recently, alone and sober, I attended a jazz concert at an intimate venue. I whooped and hollered with pleasure at the performance, and when the lead artist asked where she could get a cup of tea in this small town at 6AM, I raised my hand and said I would be honored to bring her some. In the past I would do impulsive, noticeable things like this and my husband would be ashamed of me. I would be ashamed of myself because I thought it was because I was high. But now I know this is who I am: a loud, generous, lesbian weed addict who is clean by the grace of my higher power and the MA rooms.
