My Testimony

4- How High

"Come on, Mag! Just try it!"

The messily wrapped joint lay in between one of my best friend's fingers as she chuckled. I laughed, nervously, but tried to hide the fact.

"I'm good." I replied, my cheeks burning from embarrassment.

"Please, just one hit." She urged once more. My thoughts ran in circles as I tried to come up with excuses. At the same time, though, I desired the experience. A part of me felt like if I did this I would be more accepted in my small circle of friends. More experienced.

I reach for it, my heart beating in my ear drums. Something is telling me not to do it. A memory is brought back to my mind of me at a young age vowing not to do any drugs ever. I've seen way too many people spiral out of control due to various drugs. I never wanted to turn into that.

But one drag wouldn't hurt, right? Courage ignites within me as I put the joint to my lips. I inhale the smoke and cough. She laughed at my reaction. I waited for something to happen. I thought immediately I was going to start seeing weird things, but nothing happened. I became lightheaded at first.

My first time smoking weed wasn't the way I thought it would be. I've heard many people say that it cures anxiety. They lied. The moment I inhaled the smoke I wanted it to be over. In fact I even calculated how long the high would last and I began to count down to when I'd feel normal again.

In several ways, weed heightened my anxiety. I watched as my friends laughed while I couldn't breathe. Just breathe, relax, let it kick in...

I didn't know what was supposed to kick in. Whatever it was never happened. Every time I'd smoke it was the same thing. Dizzy, breathless, and paranoid. You'd think it would make me stop, but it didn't. I'd smoke off and on, just to please my friends.

I thank God though, because eventually I did stop smoking. One night my friend and I smoked a lot. I remember it. A joint, and about two bowls out of our homemade two liter coke bong. It took awhile to hit me, but when it did—woah. It was like alarms were going off in my body.

I had a full on panic attack. My friend resorted to playing cards, but I wanted to call my mom to come get me. My friend talked me out of it though. After that night I refused to ever smoke again.

What I learned is two things: people either smoke to look cool or smoke to heal some kind of pain. Either way it doesn't work. Sure some friends will think you're cool, and it will ease your pain to a point. But after the high is gone, what are you left with? The pain you try to erase is still there. After the high, nothing changes. Everything is the same as it was before.

And if weed were to cure you, then wouldn't you just have to smoke it once? It doesn't cure. Jesus does. Yep, I said it. You want healing? Go to Jesus. Lay it all at His feet. He is the only one who truly knows you. He is the one who sets free. Cause in reality friends come and go, Jesus always stays.

And for those who think: Didn't God create weed? Yes, He did. He also created poison ivy and we know not to touch that. You see, the devil does anything He can to taint God's creation. Here's an example: I'm sure everyone knows the story of Adam and Eve. God gave them everything in the garden, except one thing; the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. God created that tree, but didn't want them to eat of it. Then the devil steps in and convinces them that "it wouldn't hurt" or "God didn't really say that." And we already know how that ends.

I guess my point is that if I could say anything to my younger self it would be that it isn't worth it. It won't cure the anxiety. It won't please your friends. It won't do anything but make it worse. It. Isn't. Worth. It.

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             "Likewise, exhort the young men to be
                                sober-minded,"
                                    Titus 2:6