I have never felt this way about a behavior without alcohol having precipitated that behavior. As I drove from place to place today, I felt the visceral sourness that permeates my being after having fucked up. Of having “done it this time.” Multiple times throughout the day, I was surprised by the fact that I actually hadn’t drunk a drop.
While driving to my first appointment there was a noticeable fog that permeated the silence. It was mitigated to a large degree by listening to a podcast. It wasn’t the same numb fog that is present after a night of drinking. It was far less thick, but I did worry that I’d be mildly confabulated when I first went to speak to someone.
This was not the case. Interacting was natural and possibly more pleasant than usual. The fog eliminated the pre-speech self-talk and I felt more rather than less present.
With this in mind, I tried two hits of much a much weaker strain this evening. I did not fall into a state of abject terror; however, there was still a period that I cared for very little. I am fond of the contemplative calm I am experiencing now, but do not wish to experience the preceding state again anytime soon. I also need to insure that I have my faculties fully about me when I speak with Suzi. When I tell her that I am not only sorry for upsetting the table, but for the conversation that followed the next morning, that it was a self-serving attempt at making myself feel better. I do not want there to be any question of my sincerity. It is worth noting that it was the effects of pot, a shift in consciousness, or at least in perspective, that allowed me to truly see how selfish I was being.
I enjoy the calm; however, I can see how daily use would dull me, and I would rather keep my edge. I enjoy being sharp. But this may be a very reasonable alternative to alcohol in the times I feel I need to reboot.
