IMO No.4: What Cannabis Means to Me (And Why It’s Not About Getting High)
Quick CYA So the Lawyers Can Sleep at Night
Look, I know this is ridiculous, but apparently we need to say it: I'm not a doctor, a licensed therapist, or even someone who owns a lab coat strictly for Halloween and ironic karaoke performances. This is my personal story about cannabis. It's not medical advice, it’s not a treatment plan, and it’s definitely not FDA-approved. If you’re thinking of trying cannabis for anything health-related, talk to someone whose diploma didn’t come from YouTube University. Cool? Cool. Now let’s get into it.
Let’s Start Here
Let’s get something straight right out of the gate: I didn’t start using cannabis to become a couch-locked philosopher or a snack-fueled adventurer through the pantry. I wasn’t trying to “expand my mind,” nor was I running from some grand trauma. I was just trying to feel… normal.
Which, for a lot of us, isn’t as easy as it sounds.
I spent a long time trying to manage my brain with the tools I was given—anxiety that could flare up like a firework in a dry field, an attention span that ping-ponged like a kid on Kool-Aid, and a near-constant feeling that I wasn’t quite in my body, or at least not in the driver’s seat. It wasn’t dramatic. It was just… exhausting.
Enter cannabis.
But not in the way you might expect.
The Early (Clumsy) Days
Like many people, my first experience with cannabis was not some transcendent moment of clarity. It was more like:
- “Oh God, am I doing this right?”
- “Why are my hands doing that?”
- “I think I’m dying but also I’m laughing about soup.”
Weed—as I called it then—was something you passed around at parties or tried on a dare. You didn’t know what it was, really. It wasn’t a carefully curated strain with tasting notes and terpene profiles. It was whatever “your guy” had. Period. The menu was basically: "weed." And it was usually some hybrid that left me sleepy, foggy, and, if I’m honest, vaguely suspicious of time as a concept.
It was tied up in rebellion and awkwardness and a vague sense of guilt. So for a long time, I left it alone. I figured it wasn’t for me.
Fast forward a few decades, a few careers, a few deeper-than-you’d-expect therapy sessions, and I found myself circling back. Not because I was desperate. Not because I wanted to check out. But because I was tired of white-knuckling my way through life when maybe—maybe—there was another way.
Not a Miracle. A Tool.
But What If You Don’t Like It?
Whenever I talk to someone who says cannabis just "isn’t for them," I already know what’s coming. I always say, “Let me guess…”
1) You tried it once when you were drunk and had a bad experience?
Well, yeah—don’t do that. That’s like trying to learn how to swim by jumping in a pool wearing a backpack full of bowling balls. Alcohol and cannabis are not a match made in heaven for most people. That combo can twist the experience sideways real fast.
2) You don’t like how it makes you feel?
Totally valid. Most people say it makes them tired or anxious. Here’s the thing: that’s probably a strain issue. If your only experience was with an “in-Da-Couch” indica, then yeah—you’re gonna feel sluggish or like your anxiety just put on a jetpack. Or maybe you just had too much. A couple bourbons feels real different than ten bourbons, right? Same logic applies.
Cannabis isn’t one-size-fits-all. It’s more like jeans. You gotta try a few before you find your fit—and even then, they don’t all work on taco night.
Here’s the thing: cannabis didn’t “fix” me.
It didn’t erase my anxiety or magically laser-focus my ADHD-rattled brain. It didn’t turn me into some serene Zen master with impeccable time management and a color-coded planner.
But it helped.
In small, thoughtful doses—one dose at a time—at the right time, in the right setting—it helped me turn down the volume. It made space in my head for other thoughts to show up:
- Kinder thoughts.
- More creative ones.
- Less "You're a failure because you forgot your cousin’s birthday" and more "Hey, you're human. Send her a meme and move on."
Cannabis didn’t make me better. It just helped me be better. And that distinction matters.
Because when we talk about cannabis only in terms of “getting high,” we flatten the conversation. We reduce it to a punchline or a punch bowl. We ignore the millions of people—normal, functioning, show-up-every-day people—who use it as a quiet tool for wellness. For clarity. For connection.
Anxiety: The Static Channel
For me, anxiety isn’t a dramatic meltdown. It’s more like a constant hum in the background. Like a static channel on a TV that no one remembers turning on. It’s always there, and when it gets loud enough, it drowns everything else out—joy, focus, even empathy.
Cannabis, when used mindfully, acts like a tuner. It doesn’t erase the static, but it helps me find a clearer signal. It lets me step back and say, “Okay, is this really an emergency or is your brain just telling ghost stories again?”
That moment—of space, of pause—is everything.
ADHD: A Brain on Shuffle
I wasn’t diagnosed with ADHD until adulthood, and let me tell you, the moment it clicked was like someone handing me the instruction manual I never got. Suddenly, so much made sense:
- The impulsivity.
- The chronic task-switching.
- The piles of half-finished projects.
- That weird combo of being both hyper-focused and totally scattered.
Traditional medications helped, but they weren’t the full answer. Sometimes they worked. Sometimes they didn’t. And sometimes they left me feeling like a productivity robot who’d lost the plot.
Cannabis—specifically low-THC, high-CBD strains, or carefully titrated hybrids—gave me another option. It didn’t supercharge me. It didn’t “fix” my brain. But it helped me settle into tasks. It helped me follow a thought all the way to the end. And it helped me start—which, if you have ADHD, you know is half the battle.
The People You Love
This is the part I didn’t expect: cannabis helped me show up better for the people I love.
When the volume’s down on anxiety and the scatter of ADHD is softened, I can actually be with people. Not just physically. Emotionally. I listen better. I’m more patient. I laugh more. I notice the moment instead of mentally sprinting ahead to my to-do list or spinning out about something I said three years ago.
And maybe most importantly, I’ve become a better partner, friend, son, and brother because I can self-regulate. I can feel myself tensing up or shutting down or overreacting and say, “Wait. Pause. Breathe.”
That’s not about being high. That’s about being present.
Not All Use is Good Use
Let me be clear: this isn’t a carte blanche endorsement of cannabis for everyone, all the time, in any form. Just like with alcohol, caffeine, or even exercise—context matters.
There were definitely times in my earlier experimentation where I overdid it, under-thought it, or used it for the wrong reasons. There were moments where I wasn’t using it to tune in, but to check out. And that’s a very different thing.
Responsible cannabis use—especially for mental health or focus—isn’t about numbing. It’s about noticing. It’s about creating just enough space to see what’s actually happening inside you and around you. Not more. Not less.
The Cultural Catch-Up
We’re in a weird moment culturally. On one hand, cannabis is becoming legal, mainstream, and increasingly sophisticated. On the other hand, we’re still unpacking decades of stigma, fear-mongering, and oversimplification.
People either talk about it like it’s the devil’s lettuce or some miracle cure-all, and neither is quite right.
What I want—what I think a lot of us want—is permission to be somewhere in the middle. To say, “This helps me” without having to defend our intelligence, our ambition, or our emotional stability. To be taken seriously not in spite of our cannabis use, but alongside it.
For the Rest of Us
There are a lot of everyday people out there—teachers, consultants, parents, creatives, grocery clerks, baristas, accountants—who are quietly using cannabis in ways that make their lives easier, better, and more humane. These aren’t stoners in a basement (though, to be fair, basements have their charm). These are grown adults trying to do right by their lives, their bodies, and their people.
We need to talk about them more.
We need to talk about:
- The parent who uses a 2.5mg edible to take the edge off without zoning out.
- The entrepreneur who hits a low-dose vape pen to brainstorm in peace.
- The person with chronic pain who’s finally able to garden again.
- The adult with undiagnosed ADHD who found a combo of strains that helps them finish a damn spreadsheet.
These stories matter.
The Bottom Line
Cannabis, to me, isn’t about escape. It’s about access.
Access to calmer thoughts, better focus, more grace. Access to the version of myself that isn’t so clenched, so tired, so frantic.
It’s not a miracle. It’s not magic. It’s not even always the answer. But when it’s used with intention, with care, and with honesty—it’s a damn good tool.
And in a world that seems to be spinning faster and louder by the day, I’ll take all the tools I can get.
Up Next:
IMO 05 – “I Didn’t Go to Weed College, But I Figured It Out Anyway”
A practical, self-taught guide to learning cannabis—products, strains, methods—without overcomplicating it or joining a cult.
