IMO No.20: Cannabis Isn’t a Cure-All, and Happiness Takes Work

(Disclaimer, since the internet demands it: This article contains sarcasm, personal opinions, and references to cannabis use. It is not medical advice, spiritual guidance, or a substitute for therapy—though it is significantly cheaper and less likely to involve someone trying to sell you essential oils.)

So. Here we are. The twentieth and final article in this little experiment I’ve called “In My Opinion.” If this were a Netflix series, the credits would be rolling with some moody indie acoustic guitar and a lingering drone shot of me staring pensively into the middle distance.

But this isn’t TV—it’s life. Messy, unpredictable, beautiful, brutal life. And I’ve spent the last nineteen articles (plus a few bonus rants) making the case that cannabis can be a powerful tool in navigating it all. Not a miracle. Not a religion. Just a tool.

And now, in the spirit of honesty and closure, I need to tell you something that might feel a little anticlimactic:

Cannabis isn’t going to fix your life.

I know, I know. Shocking. Especially after I just spent hours of your scrolling time waxing poetic about how cannabis can improve your dinner parties, your mental health, your relationships, your sense of connection, your lighting choices, and your brownie recipe.

But let’s get real: if you’re still sitting in a pile of emotional chaos, waiting for cannabis to swoop in like some plant-based Mary Poppins—minus the umbrella and with better snacks—you’re going to be waiting a long time.

Weed Won’t Wash Your Dishes

Cannabis can help you slow down. It can help you laugh, reflect, breathe, and—on occasion—realize you’ve been a bit of a jerk. That’s no small thing. But it’s not going to scrub your existential dread away like a Magic Eraser. It’s not going to call your mom back for you. And it’s definitely not going to do your taxes.

Cannabis doesn’t handle your responsibilities. It doesn’t go to therapy for you. It won’t exercise your body, cook your meals, or figure out why you always date emotionally unavailable people named Kyle.

That part? That’s on you.

The Glorified Shortcuts

We are a culture obsessed with shortcuts to happiness. We buy crystals, download mindfulness apps, drink overpriced mushroom lattes that taste like someone steeped dirt in oat milk. We meditate to YouTube soundscapes of whales bonking tuning forks underwater.

We follow self-help influencers with suspiciously glowy skin and suspiciously vague life advice: “Just choose joy!” they chirp, usually from the deck of a Bali retreat where they’ve never once had to load a dishwasher.

But here’s the thing: Joy doesn’t just show up because you paid $249 for a webinar. Or because you started microdosing reishi on toast.

You’ve got to work for it.

And not in the hustle-culture, "rise and grind" kind of way. I mean the unglamorous, daily, repetitive work of choosing to participate in your own life. Of tending to your body, your mind, your relationships—even when it would be easier to numb out, scroll endlessly, or crawl under a blanket and let the world crumble outside.

Cannabis Can Support the Work. It Can’t Replace It.

This is where cannabis can be your co-pilot. Not the driver. Not the destination. But the calm, funny, slightly philosophical friend in the passenger seat reminding you that you do in fact know how to drive, and that maybe you should put on your blinker before merging into emotional traffic.

For me, cannabis is often the thing that helps me remember the work. It slows down the world just enough that I can see where I’m avoiding, where I’m bullshitting myself, where I’m holding onto patterns that don’t serve me anymore.

Sometimes, it even helps me laugh at those patterns instead of wallowing in them like a gremlin in a bathrobe.

But it doesn’t do the work. That’s a key distinction. Weed is not a spiritual Uber. You don’t get to blaze a joint and get chauffeured to inner peace.

Small, Boring Acts of Intention

Here’s the hard truth no one’s selling in cute packaging: The path to peace is paved with small, boring acts of intention.

• Drinking water before you’re dehydrated.
• Going outside even when it’s a little too cold or a little too hot.
• Apologizing first.
• Putting your phone down at dinner.
• Saying no to that plan you know will drain you.
• Saying yes to the friend who sees you, even when your brain is telling you to isolate.

And sometimes, yeah, sparking a joint and sitting on your porch with your dog. Letting your shoulders drop. Letting yourself just be.

It’s not flashy. It’s not particularly marketable. No one’s going to build a lifestyle brand around “doing the dishes while mildly high and thinking about your childhood.”

But that’s the point. The work is the point. That’s where the real growth hides—not in the big breakthrough moments, but in the consistency of choosing to show up for yourself and your life.

You’re Going to Mess It Up. That’s Okay.

If you’re reading this thinking, “Cool, I’ve failed at all of this recently,” same.

I’m writing this from the middle of my own mess. The laundry isn’t done. I snapped at someone I love this week. I’ve been avoiding a hard decision because I’m tired and overwhelmed and would rather zone out watching old basketball highlights or reorganizing my spice rack for no reason at all.

I’m not here as some enlightened cannabis whisperer with the answers. I’m here as a person who believes in this plant, who believes in people, and who believes that we’re all doing our damndest not to lose our minds in a world that often feels like it’s being run by a committee of raccoons on Red Bull.

And sometimes, in the middle of all that, I remember to choose better. To pause. To reach for intention over instinct. To light a joint not to escape my life, but to ease back into it with more gentleness.

If It’s Not Working, Try Something Different

If you’ve been using cannabis for a while and still feel like a spinning wheel of anxiety and avoidance, it might be time to change up how you’re using it. Ask yourself some uncomfortable questions:

• Am I using this to connect or to check out?
• Am I respecting my own boundaries and limits?
• Am I pairing this with other healthy habits—or using it as a band-aid for habits I’m avoiding?

The most honest thing I can say to you at the end of this series is this: If something isn’t working, try something different.

Even if that “different” is drinking water, going for a walk, calling your therapist, or—gasp—taking a tolerance break.

Cannabis is a support tool. If you’re leaning on it so hard that your life is starting to list sideways, it’s not the tool’s fault. But it might be time to reassess your blueprint.

This, In My Final Opinion

I started this series because I was tired of the extremes: the pearl-clutching fear-mongering on one side, the “weed is life” bros and “hemp goddess” archetypes on the other.

I wanted to write for the rest of us. The tired professionals. The parents. The artists. The introverts. The burnt-out idealists. The people trying to live meaningful lives without losing their minds—or their humanity—in the process.

Cannabis can help. It has helped me. It will likely continue to help me. But the real growth? The joy? The peace?

That’s earned.

That’s the result of showing up. Of choosing to keep trying. Of laughing when you fall on your face, dusting yourself off, and choosing again. Not perfectly. Just intentionally.

So if you’re out there wondering if you’re doing it right—living, coping, growing—the fact that you’re wondering probably means you are.

Light a joint. Take a breath. And keep going.

Because happiness takes work.

And you’re worth the effort.