I thought long and hard about it this afternoon but I decided to put the last post out there. Snapshots of my mind. I kept my word. I haven’t had any weed yet. I’m not as antagonized about it as I was earlier, but I’m also not feeling as overtly anxious as I was earlier either. My indignation has settled. I just can’t believe that feeling like this all the time is the path to healing. I guess I should get off all the other medication too by that logic. Then I can truly experience all of this mental illness stuff properly. It depresses me even more to think I’m supposed to face this without weed. It went from having some in the evening being ok to none at all rather quickly. Well, maybe once a week he said.

I did nothing with the day other than getting stuck in my head. I’m not proud of that. I let another day pass me by. It’s easy to do when the crazies take root. We had dinner and watched an episode of the Dukes Of Hazzard. I’m listening to My Dying Bride. What happens if I stop smoking pot and it turns out the weed had nothing to do with any of this? Recovery has this undertone of expected AA-type sobriety. It’s to prove you’re actually sick and that the symptoms aren’t the result of unprovoked yet chronic substance abuse, even if the symptoms pre-date the substance abuse. PTSD can’t be treated unless you’re free from substances that don’t have a DIN number.

I just want to feel better and I’m having trouble finding that feeling. Maybe I should just stay sober and keep looking in all the same places, over and over, hoping that the next time I check won’t be in vain.