It seems to last for days, these minor fits of desperate exasperation. I never like admitting things are wrong with me. In my mind, and I'm sure in most peoples, there is a block, an mental obstacle that prevents certain truths from being revealed. This sneaking suspicion has been building for some time. That happens with being a paranoid hypochondriac. You think of all these things that could be wrong. The difference between me and most is that I am content with just thinking I have these things. I don't let them affect my daily life, but they are there. I am finally coming to terms with an issue I have long known but only recently accepted. I think pot is bad for me.
Are you shocked? Probably not. But when I say this I don't mean the trite, "It makes you lazy, it's a gateway drug, blah blah blah". I have read enough stuff on pot to know it's effects and I am confident enough in my beliefs that I know it's not a gateway drug for me. If anything the fact that pot is so enjoyable has kept me from TRYING other drugs. But, and it's weird saying it out loud, I can feel it in an almost constricting fashion. It applies mostly when I'm cold or nervous, but I've seen a trend of having almost uncontrollable muscle spasms. I have to pace my breathing and focus on my body to maintain it, but I'm unable to talk without a trembling in my voice. Now it has been cold in GA lately, but I noticed that it doesn't occur all the time. About a month ago I started watching for patterns, trying to pinpoint an issue, and I'm pretty sure at this point it's pot.
It doesn't help that I was constantly losing my own train of thought in conversations. One of the most embarrassing things is being in mid-sentence and unable to remember what comes next or what came before. And as I frantically search for my thoughts, I forget what I'm saying. So I stall out and stare at the person, expecting them to lead me along like a puppy, and they stare right back at me as if I'm a rabid stray dog.
I can't say that it's disappointing or anything. I've always known that I would quit smoking again. I was more or less looking for a good reason. Work wasn't a big deal and everyone in my family, sans my mother, is a big pot head. It's funny knowing that some of my brothers tried to quit. They would quit for work or drug test related activities, but normally only lasting as long as their required goal despite talks of holding out...