I’ve lived with the stigma of cannabis use all my life and as a result, have gotten use to being labeled broken or outcast. It’s hard for some people to understand the ways cannabis enhances my life, the way it brings me home to myself, so they close their ears to shut out any conflicting stories.
Meanwhile, I look at people with addictions to harder drugs and see we have nothing in common. While I’m unconventional, they are sick and need help. There’s no comparison between us.
Addictive behaviour is classed as the repetition of a destructive habit. That’s not how I use cannabis. I work every day, am a published writer, a writing coach and a certified nutritionist who cares about good food and fitness. I’m hard working, resilient and self-reliant. Are they words you’d use to describe an “addict”?
So what am I? Can I really use a “drug” every day and not be an addict?
The short answer is no.
But it’s not so simple.
WHAT IS AN ADDICT?
For starters, let’s consider the concept of “addict.” Up until the 20th century, the term addict was used to label someone who accidentally got addicted to a substance as a result of medicinal use. Between the 1890s and 1920s, the term changed to mean some kind of deviant who shrugged responsibility in favour of drug use.
The idea of the deviant drug user grew steadily throughout the 20th century thanks to the introduction of a global prohibition, led by the United States. However, by now, it’s become apparent that the American approach to the so-called War on Drugs is not effective and certainly doesn’t stop people from using drugs. But the stereotype persists.
Today, we also have a better understanding of the psychological and biological factors driving addiction. Addiction is attributed to a malfunction in the body’s dopamine system, trapping the mind in a loop that propels repetitive behaviour. This system exists in every individual.
A number of theories prevail as to why the dopamine system malfunctions in an addict, and may be genetic or caused by childhood trauma. Whatever the reason, what’s clear is that there’s an underlying cause and addiction is a symptom of something else.
The problem with a lot of the theories on and treatments for addiction is that they focus on the symptom then puts the onus fully on the addict to recognize the problem and solve it. But if the addict could do that they wouldn’t have started using drugs in the first place.
A lot of this thinking is a direct result of the ‘deviant’ ethos infused culture from the early 19th century onwards. It’s an ethos that’s deadly, as evidenced by the ever-rising rate of overdoses and the frankly criminal way addicts are treated by the “recovery system.”
OLD ADDICTION NARRATIVE
When I started writing for the cannabis industry six or seven years ago, I thought it was my moment. I’d finally be able to come out into the light and talk about my life choices in a way that was positive rather than the judgment I was used to. But it never happened.
The more I wrote for the industry the more it became clear that there was no place for the nuance of cannabis use in the way I’d experienced it. This is not so surprising. All industries seek to categorise their target audiences as a way to streamline sales. It was natural that the same thing would happen in cannabis.
But that’s not all. The industry doubled down on the distinction between types of addicts first popularised in the 1920s, by dividing cannabis users into medical and recreational users. Medical users were in, recreational users out, and the industry evolved to cater to the needs of the former – albeit badly.
For a while, all the recreational users I knew were calling their use “therapeutic” as a way to get around the new distinctions. I even participated in it myself for a while. But it always felt hammy. And so, I didn’t know what to call myself, how I fit in.
I found myself missing from my own culture. I found my voice irrelevant to my marketplace. I found I had nothing in common with my so-called peers. I found myself outcast from the industry built on my habit.
And it was not a happy place to be. It became clear I wasn’t just swimming up stream against a new way of doing things, I was in swimming in systemic prejudice and if I didn’t take a step back, it might swallow me.
So, I left.
Or rather, I took a step back.
NEW ADDICTION NARRATIVE
I went back to my writing roots and found a way to tell my story in poetry, as a way to reclaim my story and preserve a piece of the culture. My new collection, Infinite Jade, tell the story of a stoner who loses herself in the underworld of drug addiction but finds her way home to Self by reframing her understanding of cannabis.
The poetry collection is in part autobiographical but also inspired by the 19th century novel, The Hasheesh-Eater by Fitzhugh Ludlow. Published in 1857, it was during this time that hash was popular in literary circles as a way of firing the imagination and shifting conversation around the concept of the “Self.”
One of the welcome benefits of writing this collection was the chance to hold up my cannabis use/addiction and examine it from different angles. This deep examination culminated in the understanding that as a writer drawn to cannabis, I’m participating in a long history of investigation into altered consciousness.
To my mind, at the core of the stigma around drug use is the failure to understand what drugs really are, why people use them and the many ways they can enhance and expand a life. This much-needed change in attitude begins with accepting we all are addicts on some level and maybe that’s okay.
My new poetry collection, Infinite Jade, is a conceptual album and an immersive sound experience in spoken word and music that aims to heal the shame of stigma by exploring the alchemy of cannabis. RELEASE DATE: AUGUST 3rd, 2026. CLICK HERE for more info.