I Used to Hate Weed, Actually

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I was not a teenage stoner.

Actually, I was basically the opposite.

I grew up very anti-cannabis, largely because of my grandma and the way weed was talked about around me. I had already decided what kind of people smoked it, what it meant about them, and that it absolutely was not something I was ever going to do.

Which is funny considering... well. Gestures vaguely at my entire life now.

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My first actual experience with cannabis was around 2013. I was dating my now-ex girlfriend at the time, and she used it medically because it was cheaper than some of her prescriptions and helped manage her symptoms.

I, meanwhile, was still extremely anti-pot and probably kind of an asshole about it.

Eventually, one night she convinced me to try it.

Important context: I had already been drinking.

I was also in my early twenties, so naturally I had the decision-making skills of someone whose frontal lobe was still downloading.

I took a hit and almost immediately ended up in the bathroom puking my guts out.

10/10 first impression.

Needless to say, this did absolutely nothing to improve my opinion of weed. After we broke up, I didn't touch it again for about three years.

Then 2016 happened.

That summer, I had the chance to spend some time with my sister. For a little family-history context, I was raised by my dad's parents and didn't even know I had siblings until I was 13. My sister and I had been Facebook friends for a while by that point, but we hadn't really had much of a chance to actually know each other.

She was working out at the lake that summer and invited me to come stay with her for a bit.

I was excited. I was finally getting a chance to hang out with my sister, get to know her properly, and have this whole little sibling-bonding summer moment.

I don't think I had even been there an hour before she asked me, "Wanna smoke some weed?"

Apparently that was the sibling-bonding activity.

And honestly? It worked.

That summer became shared joints, packed bowls, incense burning constantly and fans running in the tiny cabin because we were convinced we were being sneaky.

We were not being sneaky.

If you have ever smoked weed inside and thought, No, it's fine, nobody can smell it, I regret to inform you that everybody can smell it.

By the end of the summer, something had very clearly changed. Weed wasn't this big scary thing I had been taught it was anymore. I liked smoking. I liked the way it made me feel. And once my sister's job at the lake ended, I suddenly found myself doing something 2013 Kass would have found absolutely horrifying:

Trying to find a dealer.

It's wild to think that back then I could buy a little 2g bag and somehow make it last two weeks.

Two. Weeks.

My tolerance would laugh directly in my face now.

Over time, cannabis went from being this occasional thing I had discovered with my sister to just... part of my life. Eventually I probably would've described myself as a "functioning addict," especially during the years when making sure I had weed became something I automatically worked into my budget.

But I've also always found the way we talk about cannabis interesting. Strip away all the baggage people attach to it and, for me, keeping weed around wasn't that different from making sure I had something else I relied on to function.

These days, my relationship with cannabis looks completely different again.

I switched mostly to concentrates over a year ago. I still keep flower around, usually for when I've gone through my wax faster than planned because apparently moderation remains a developing skill, but concentrates are definitely my main thing now.

My tolerance has changed dramatically since that summer at the lake, but so has my understanding and appreciation of cannabis.

And every once in a while I think about how ridiculous the whole timeline is.

I went from being completely against weed, to throwing up the first time I tried it, to not touching it for three years, to smoking with my sister in a tiny lake cabin while absolutely fooling ourselves into thinking the incense was hiding anything.

And somehow, that was the beginning.

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I didn't start smoking because I was trying to become a stoner. I wasn't looking for an escape or trying to reinvent myself.

I was just hanging out with my sister.

Turns out she accidentally opened a pretty big door.

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I didn't start to escape my life. I started because I needed a way to actually feel it.

Talk soon, Kass. ☕🌿