My everyday smoking behavior continued for another two years of college. As my tolerance grew, I gradually smoked more and more to try to get the high that I remembered was so fun when I started in high school. I still enjoyed smoking, but I could never seem to capture that lucid high where I got totally caught up in the moment. Instead I was in more of a relaxed, lethargic high, and very much in my own head. This was the first time I really thought that trying to quit weed would be a good idea. Besides not feeling as good when I was high anymore, I was also feeling tired all the time. No amount of sleep seemed to really recharge me the way I thought it should, and I could usually cough up a good amount of phlegm. Even if I tried and went a couple of days without smoking, I didn’t feel much better. After that I would resume smoking for one reason or another.

I can’t count the number of times I resolved to quit smoking. I would write it down. I would promise myself that I was smoking my last sack for at least a month. I would say it out loud to myself. I would put my pieces and weed away in a box that was a pain to get back out. But every time, I’d end up bored and think, “why not just smoke a bowl? I’ll be doing the same things anyways, I might as well enjoy it a little more by being high.” And then I’d do it. Every time. I would be disappointed with myself, but not for long. It’s not like I invested that much effort in my attempt to quit, not enough to be really disappointed.

The end of my third year of college was where it all caught up to me: I was failing half of my classes. I was getting a B and an A in the classes I enjoyed, but I felt I couldn’t be bothered to show up to the other two classes I was in. They were too early in the morning and I never felt I was learning anything in them. Of course, I was up until midnight or 1am the night before those classes every week smoking and then sleeping in. I was put on academic probation and started having trouble with financial aid.

This was really the beginning of my journey to hitting what I consider my own “rock-bottom” that forced me to change my ways and really buckle down and seek help for my addiction.

At this point I was still convinced that weed should be easy to quit because it was just a psychological addiction, but of course, any attempts to quit lasted only a few days until I got bored or a friend wanted to hang out and smoke with me. I thought I was in control, but really, getting high was becoming the number one priority in my life and I thought that was allright and I could keep everything else in check.

Soon I would find out how wrong I was.