I was a married 35-year-old mother. Probably not what someone would categorize as a target demographic for drug abuse.
We coached his little league teams, I was a school volunteer, and our life centered around our only child. He was a happy, academically successful, well-adjusted kid. My husband and I were casual Marijuana smokers in our life before our son was born.
Responsibility crept in as we became parents, and Marijuana became too risky to possess, and we couldn’t risk falling employment drug screens, and our use waned.
When spice or kush first came out, it was all the rage. Available at every corner store and completely legal, we thought it would be safe and fun to get a little high again, and not have any consequences.
It was very cheap and available, and we discovered it took very little to get high.
A puff or two and we were having fun and laughing and joking about the munchies. We felt like it was harmless. I would soon discover how wrong we were.
After a year or so of smoking this “legal” substance, we were both addicted. I’m not someone who was prone to the addictive personality, and I was in complete denial.
Our lives spiraled out of control soon. Authorities had taken notice of this, and although still not classified as a controlled or banned substance, cities and counties were banning it through local ordinances. This was a minor inconvenience, as it was still being sold in other places.
I justified my use of Kush because I always suffered from anxiety, and Kush quieted my always racing mind, and I felt relief. In hindsight, it dulled me to the point of apathy, and I soon realized I had a problem.
My always adored and cared for the son was angry and sad. He knew we weren’t ourselves. He became withdrawn.
His hair hadn’t been cut in weeks, and he was wearing a pair of his dad’s old tennis shoes because his were completely torn up. Without the aid of my apathy drug, I had a breakdown.
Already depressed from withdrawal, I cried uncontrollably for my neglected child. All I could think about was buying Kush, and my son didn’t even have shoes.
I wanted to die. I was a bad parent. How did I become this person? I was just having fun, alleviating my anxiety, now I was evicted, and my lights were getting cut off.
I cried to my addicted husband and said I had done. He looked miserable too. I saw tears in his eyes about our son. Despite that, he said he didn’t have a problem.
He was in more denial than me. All he could think about was getting more. I had done. I couldn’t be around it anymore and told him.
He moved out and left me in a home with my son that I was being evicted from. He didn’t care. Despite my stance, I was not able to live without Kush and struggled with avoiding it.
I prayed, cried and felt worthless. Every time I was with my husband, he urged me to smoke. I was arrested for having it in my car and spent seven days in jail where I withdrew and lost 15 lbs.
That was two years ago, and I haven’t touched it since. We are back together and clean now, and have great jobs and a great life.
This stuff almost ruined my life. It’s dangerous and destructive and life altering, but there is hope.