The fact of the matter is, smoking is stupid. It’s unhealthy, expensive and gross. Whether it’s cigarettes or weed, it’s better just not to do it. But I’m not about to defend the merits of marijuana or bemoan its detriments. This is a problem because of the intense frustration I have, and the fact that I can’t vent to anyone about it. My friends smoke pot, so they tend to side with my husband. “Maybe he just needs to blow off steam,” and “at least he doesn’t do it around your kid.” Right, okay, awesome, but you’re not the one who has to live every day with either the lazy, exhausted Jekyll or the antsy, irritable Hyde. Eff off.
My family, on the other hand, is blindly anti-drug (they’re the kind of people who still call pot “dope” and group it in with cocaine and heroin) so we keep my husband’s smoking a secret from them. I’ve had horrible dreams of him getting busted, losing his job and losing my family’s respect. This tension perhaps weighs on me even more than my hypocritical friends.
I may sound like one, but I promise I’m not a nag. This venting session is the product of many years of built-up frustration. I don’t nag my husband about housework or getting my own free time anymore, because we’re equally stressed out. But I’m afraid I’m going to blow up at him any day now about the weed thing. This may just be hearsay, but I’m pretty sure that in my state a child can be taken from his or her parents if one of the parents is in possession of a certain amount of marijuana. I don’t think my husband keeps enough on him for this to apply, but still, it seems so risky.
My husband and I have gone over this a million times. Sometimes he says he’s done and he’s just going to quit. But then he follows up with this self-indulgent request to “please be understanding if I’m not in the best mood for a few days.” I have heard that proclamation so many times it’s laughable. Now, whenever he says he’s quitting, I just stay quiet and continue with whatever I’m doing. Sure, I’d love for him to quit for real. There would be no more of this back and forth hell that is his withdrawal cycle.
But at the same time, I must admit that sometimes — when he’s not stoned out of his mind and falling asleep on the couch, that is — it’s easier to deal with him when he’s high.
I guess the best I can do at this point is vent to my journal and remind myself of all the other great things in my life. Even if weed gets legalized, that doesn’t change the fact that it alters my husband’s personality. Marijuana may be just as difficult to get when it’s legal, anyways, so I’ll still have to suffer through his withdrawal. As I said before, talking to my husband hasn’t helped a bit, and obviously talking to my friends doesn’t help, either. Even the few friends who are more sensitive don’t have an answer.
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