My motivation to quit marijuana, pot, cannabis or whatever you personally call it, was because I had gotten into a rut of smoking it all day, every day. Late at night or early morning, utterly convinced I enjoyed it, I would sit, roll and smoke joint after joint. As the years rolled on marijuana seemed more like self-prescribed medication to keep me calm than the fun, recreational drug I once considered it to be. Knocking on my dealer’s door became a symbol of need and at times desperation. I often looked like I had been dragged through a hedge backwards and I completely lost my self-confidence to communicate with even my closest friends. But the dread of existing without my cherished marijuana fix was enough to force me to abandon each and every attempt to quit.
Improved health is of course a guaranteed benefit of quitting but it was equally important to me to be able to enjoy myself socially and not be stalked by pangs of temptation after I quit. Despite feeling unhealthy, sluggish and a slave to marijuana it bothered me that quitting meant living a dull and dreary existence. Back in those days I lived the classic comedy Cheech and Chong lifestyle. Nowadays there is nothing anyone could say to persuade me to put a filthy horrible joint anywhere near my mouth! That’s because I eventually quit: