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Wasted

‘Wasted’ is a term we would use when we got stoned. We could sit around for hours smoking pot and doing nothing.

What started out as ‘having fun’ with friends, over time turned out to be a slow and steady withdrawal from the world and people. ‘Wasted’ couldn’t be a better word to use. I would get stoned, and waste away the hours and days, with no real purpose or meaning.

I don’t remember the first time I smoked pot: it was sometime in my late teenage years, but the actual event I cannot recall. This in itself says much, as many events in my past I can remember very clearly.

I smoked pot for the very last time after a presentation by Serge Benhayon of Universal Medicine. He was the first person who shared with me that when we use drugs, including marijuana, we open ourselves up to energies or ‘entities’. I had smoked pot the evening before attending this event. Instantly I knew it was true. I had never thought of it quite like that before, but I knew. And that was it… I could no longer smoke pot with this awareness that there was much more going on than ‘getting stoned’.

I never liked smoking. In fact, to this day I have never smoked a cigarette. I did what would be considered academically ‘well’ at school, went to University, worked full-time and had bought a property by the age of 21. There were no drugs around when I was growing up. My parents drank alcohol, mainly at social events, but never was there a word spoken about any other drug. It was in high school that I first remember seeing some of the guys who would come to school stoned. Their eyes were often red and glassy and they felt very distant. They seemed like they didn’t really care about anything, especially school.

My first boyfriend smoked pot. I had tried it a couple of times but wasn’t that into it. I can still remember feeling furious when he didn’t turn up on one of our first dates because he had gone to buy pot with some friends and hadn’t made it back in time. Right from the start of the relationship I was shown what I was getting myself into. Seven years later, I was in deeper than I could have ever imagined.

I slowly began to smoke pot more regularly. Several years into this relationship my boyfriend had begun dealing and selling pot, regularly making trips interstate to buy. He would return with suitcases full of it. He too was at University, studying IT. The money was easy and there was pot and money everywhere. It was not uncommon for him to be carrying around over $50,000 dollars in cash. Along with the pot there were heaps of people, all with one thing in common. People would drop over, get stoned, buy pot, eat, get stoned and on it would continue.

He then began growing two small pot plants in his bedroom cupboard. I didn’t say anything. I was working full-time at this stage, and smoking pot regularly myself outside of work. I was still living at home at the time and when I stayed at his place we slept less than 2 metres from the plants and the hydro lights were blinding when the cupboard door was opened.

We were both around 20 years old at the time and not once did we discuss the fact that what we were now involved in was highly illegal and the consequences could have been life changing should we get caught, for while I wasn’t initiating any of this, I was equally involved through association.

We both moved from the city and bought a property together. What was a small-scale business slowly expanded. He had a room built especially for growing not long after we moved in. 16 plants could be grown hydroponically at once and still there was never any communication between us about any of the risks. Still I said nothing. The money was abundant, life was ‘easy’ and I turned a complete blind eye to what was taking place. I didn’t pay any attention to how the plants were grown but was happy to smoke the pot and live the lifestyle we did with the money that was around. The hydro shop in town supplied everything that was needed and within 3 months he could earn $15,000 to $18,000. Some people might describe this as easy money, and at the time I too thought this. Now, out of the haze and fog of the drug, I know it all came at a very large cost.

Seven years later our relationship ended and I was devastated. I didn’t turn to pot when we broke up. In fact, I couldn’t smoke at all.

Somehow I knew that I couldn’t deal with anything if I was stoned.

I entered this relationship as a young woman in my late teenage years. I was at University at the time studying business when I met this guy at a party with some friends. I was taking drugs socially at the time, but dealing and growing drugs were worlds away from my life. My family had no idea what was happening for me over those 7 years, or if they did it was never spoken about. I rarely drank alcohol, never smoked cigarettes and yet here I was neck deep in the world of pot.

I stopped smoking when this relationship ended. But it got worse still. I had seen how easy the money had come through growing and selling pot, so before I knew it I had set the room up again. I had studied business at University and was working in the world of business and yet never did I think that this would be the type of business I would be running. I too had become a grower. On reflection, I don’t remember making the decisions. I don’t remember weighing up the consequences or even thinking that anything could go terribly wrong. To me now that sounds absurd, but this is part of what happens when you walk down a path like this. I wasn’t really there, just like what I used to observe in the guys who were stoned when I was at school.

Every time I got stoned I would disappear. For me this meant I would go quiet and retreat. Now I would describe this as feeling very numb, but then I thought I was relaxing, chilling out and enjoying myself. This couldn’t be further from the truth. Pot changed me. In this state of being I actually wasn’t capable of thinking or questioning what I was doing. I was more like a puppet, being used and abused in the process.

So there I was around the age of 30, growing and selling pot. I watched as everything came to me as I needed it. People to buy it, people who would help me grow it, and people who would not ever ask me “why are you doing this?”. My parents would have been horrified if they knew. Living in the country, it was something I could easily hide.

I eventually stopped growing pot. This was another couple of years after the relationship ended. The devastation I felt at the end of the relationship was quickly avoided and numbed by the choice to start growing pot myself. I was devastated not because the relationship ended, but because I had become a shadow of myself. The young woman I was in my late teens – who loved being with people, who loved learning and discovering more about life and the world – had completely disappeared. I had sold out to the allure of pot, drugs and money, only to be left feeling the emptiness of the path I had walked. This was a type of pain I had no idea how to deal with and all I could remember is feeling a heaviness in my heart that would not go away.

I write about this now to share how a beautiful young woman with loads of potential can waste almost a decade in what I can now describe as a blurry haze. I was there but not there. With the support of Universal Medicine Practitioners I have been able to understand how this happened and heal, truly heal. It wasn’t a quick fix, for what seemed like my carefree twenties and easy money came at a cost.

The choice to stop smoking and the choice to stop growing was the start of a choice to return to the beautiful young woman I am and to live in a way that does not cause harm to myself or others. Every step has been worth it, and at times has taken a lot of inner strength. My world has completely changed and the world of pot is now far away.

When I see someone stoned, drunk or ‘wasted’ now, I understand that they are not really themselves in that moment and can also see the person they truly are, and the potential that is always there for them to return to.

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HealingUniversal MedicineAddictionDrugs

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    Photography: Matt Paul