Recently, I was sitting with a couple of women friends of mine. Not close friends or anything. Acquaintances. People I want to get to know better, I think. It’s always iffy with me, because people tire me out so much. But it was a beach party, and I was sitting with them, and I felt like it was a good decision overall. I mean, I was being social.
“Look ma, I’m out with people. Not in my room doing my own thing. Like a crazy introvert.” I really wanted to go back home and be on my own, but I was trying to be an adult.
Trying to be normal. It was all going so well. Oh boy, was it going well. I was sitting and listening to them speak about how terrible men are, and how women are all goddesses. I nodded at the right moments, and empathized at the other right moments.
Ah, we are really connecting, I thought to myself, rubbing my hands together in glee.
And then the other shoe dropped. Or the other coin. Or whatever the damn phrase says.
They Offered Me Pot And I Said No
I know what the price of friendship is nowadays. I get it. When I was in my twenties, early twenties, well, when I was 17, and I was in university, I was offered alcohol all of the time. They didn’t know I was underage. I was a little too young to be in university, but I had fast-tracked a bunch when I was a child.
I loved the fact that I didn’t have to drink, because that meant I could be an observer, rather than a participator. But, as soon as I turned 19 (the legal age to drink in Canada), I couldn’t refuse on the basis of age anymore. It just wasn’t on.
I didn’t want to be uncool, did I? No, sirree bob. Not even a bit. I wanted to be part of the hip crowd. Whatever or whoever they were.
So I never said no then. But at this beach party, 15 years later (I’m 34 now), I had already figured that I wasn’t cool enough to be part of the inner circle, the cool crowd, the clique, so I always said no to any and all drugs, and alcohol.
I am a terrible person, right? I have been offered free pot, for god’s sake. Two hot girls are offering me pot and if I had just accepted, I could have been friends with them for life.
God, I’m dumb. I said, “No, sorry, I don’t smoke pot.” Okay, it could have ended there. Right? Wrong!!
The girl said, “Don’t worry,” giggling the whole time, “Don’t worry, we won’t tell your boss. We won’t tell anybody. I promise you, we won’t say a word. You can do it. It’s fine.”
Did I Say No, Because I’m Afraid Of My Boss Finding Out? Uh, No, Fool!
Okay, maybe this headline is a bit rude, but seriously, when she said the above statement, I wanted to bitchslap her right across the face, after I gave her a scathing, withering look.
But of course, I didn’t. Why? Because I’m trying to be good, and I do want to keep some people on this planet who don’t hate me completely. Thus, I politely said, “No, I’m not worried about my boss. It’s just that I don’t like smoking pot.” They looked at me incredulously. I blithered on, “I wish I did. But I don’t like it.” They looked away at each other, and laughed.
“What’s not to like about it? It makes you feel good. What else do you need?” They said, and dismissed me with their eyes and bodies. Oh well, that was a good try, I thought. I tried to be friends with them, but that didn’t work out, did it?
Why did I say no? I asked myself this question all the time, not only in my twenties, but now in my thirties. Why can’t I just say yes? Why can’t I just indulge? Why not just do it, like Nike would say?
Is it the legality of it that worries me? Not really. Pot is legal in the countries where I would smoke it. So that’s not it. Then what the hell is the matter with me?
If I could just say yes, then I would be cool again. I could have friends, and people wouldn’t think I’m the oddest-ball out there.
Ultimately, I Want To Be Myself All The Time
I don’t like not being in complete control of my senses. I like feeling, and thinking, and being completely myself all the time. Drugs screw that up for me.
Okay, let me expand on that a bit. I recently watched this awesome video on birth control pills, and she said something fascinating in the video. She said, “If you have been on birth control pills all of your life, how do you know who you truly are?” And that really hit it home for me.
That’s what I think to myself. How do I know who I am, if I have all of these chemicals in my body convoluting my reality, and my experience of reality? How do I know who I truly, truly, truly am?
Well, I don’t.
I mean, it’s not even just the hard drugs. It could be the pollution in the air. Or microwave radiation. Or sugar in your diet. Or parabens in your shampoo. Or whatever.
There are a million chemicals out there, some of them we knowingly add into our bodies, like Tylenol for a headache, and some of them unknowingly enters our blood stream and mind space, like Roundup pesticides used by Monsanto. So perhaps my argument is a little moot??
I Control What I Can And That In Itself Makes Me So Much More Me
My philosophy with life is to control what I can, and the rest can take care of itself. Now, I haven’t eliminated all of the chemicals in my bloodstream. I’m sure there’s mercury and carbon monoxide and so much more shit floating around in me, making me crazy and not Boom Shikha.
But, I have removed a lot of the chemicals I used to use previously. Most of my skin care and hair care products are all natural now.
I don’t drink alcohol, smoke anything, do drugs. I rarely eat meat, dairy, sugar, gluten, and processed foods.
The problem with this is that when I first started doing this, when I first started removing all of these chemicals from my body, because I used to drink, and I used to eat crap all of the time… when I first started this mad ‘au naturel’ movement, I noticed that layers of myself, layers of Boom Shikha, started appearing from nowhere.
I started seeing parts of me that until that point had been hidden beneath a subtle mask or veil of chemical induction.
It’s such a novel experience, when you first do it. Because until that point, I would take Tylenol at the drop of a hat (ah, my back has a little twinge, let me drop some Tylenol, yo). Until that point, I would eat stuff that shouldn’t even be fed to rats, like Pizza Pockets, and canned Clam Chowder soup (it was my favourite snack).
Okay, So What’s The Big Deal With Seeing My True Self?
You know when you are sleeping, and dreaming, sometimes you know that you are dreaming, not really lucidly, but you know that what’s happening isn’t really real. There are no purple unicorns out there, c’mon, who are you kidding, dream? Unicorns are always white, sheesh, get your facts straight.
Okay, so you know that it’s a dream. And it’s you roaming around in the dream, doing all sorts of shit that the normal awake you would never do. When you do wake up from that dream, you are your true self again.
And it feels good, doesn’t it to be back to your true self? Well, it does for me. Every time, I peel off another layer and become more and more of myself, the true me, I feel so good.
Now, why does it matter to me or to anyone else?
Let me see if I can explain it in a way that makes sense. When you are under the influence of drugs, everything is kind of dulled. Every experience is dulled somehow. I mean, of course, when you do Acid, or Ecstasy, maybe for a few hours, you are more aware and more present. But then you go back to normalcy, and everything gets dull again, doesn’t it?
I find this especially true for pot smokers. I am not criticizing them or anything. This is not a judgement post. You guys do what works for you. But whenever I meet a heavy pot smoker, they have dead eyes and dead emotions. They are always just steady. They don’t ever feel really, really enthusiastic, or really, really fucking sad.
Pot makes everything same same.
I really feel things. Now, yes, of course this is a bad thing, when I’m sad, because when I’m sad, I’m really freaking sad. I feel it in every cell of my body. And I think that’s why people smoke pot, because it helps dull their sadness or their pain. They don’t want to be in pain, so they dull it with pot. But guess what, it’s also dulling your happiness. You can never truly feel real joy, enthusiasm, love, excitement, because it has all been dulled down.
I get excited and happy and ecstatic a lot. And I feel it deeply, too.
But I can see those pot smokers looking at me, like, I’m being too much. Why are you being so freaking enthusiastic? Come here, smoke some pot, and shut up.
I Want To Feel Everything, Everything To The Max
I love feeling sadness and pain. I really, really love it. Seriously, I’m not joking. I love it. It’s just so awesome. I mean, I feel my heart dragging around, and the dull ache in my heart, and the tears fill up my eyes… and it’s all so human, and so true. Just pure and true emotion.
It makes me feel so alive!
So absolute filled with vitality. I just want to jump around and announce to the world that I’m a human and I feel everything so much, so much sadness, so much pain, and yes, so much happiness, and so much joy.
I think the idea behind dulling your pain is a good one, until you realize that once you dull your pain, you are dulling every other emotion as well. There’s no way to just dull the pain and leave everything else untouched.
When I feel pain, I really get into it. Because I know, once the pain ends, and the joy comes back to fill up my neuro-receptors, oh man, it’s going to feel so fucking good.
I just want to jump up and down for joy. I’m a human and I feel so deeply. I am here and I’m so freaking alive. Thank you, universe for everything. For everything.
The pain. The joy. The exhilaration. The ecstasy. The sadness. The boredom. The misery. The heartache.
I Think We Are Taught To Be Afraid Of Being Too Much
As a child, I remember one thing very distinctly. Every single time, I was ‘too much’ in any way, too enthusiastic, too happy, too sad, too much of anything, I was reprimanded, beaten, or punished for it in some way.
It was a clear sign from the adults. Stop being too much. Stop feeling so much. You are too human. Dull it down a bit. You are affecting all of us. You are annoying all of us. Stop it now.
I used whatever means I could. I mean, when I was still a child, it was hard not to show enthusiasm, so I hid it under fear, doubt, anxiety, and other emotions like that. I was afraid all of the time, to be too much, so I became invisible, and I tried to hide myself as much as I could.
But when I turned 19, I had the weapon of choice. Alcohol. I drank a lot. Because it was a good way to dull down everything. I didn’t have to feel anything. I didn’t have to be too much. Alcohol helped me become just the same dulled down being as everyone else.
Thankfully, I couldn’t keep it up for too long. Because, I missed being enthusiastic. I missed being joyful, and happy. And of course, I missed feeling sad, miserable, and bored.
Truth is I missed the entire spectrum of emotions, and I missed being me!
I Am Not Going To Tell You To Stop Dulling Your Senses
Okay, so my journey from being dulled down by alcohol (and other legal substances, like shopping, too much TV, too much gossip, sugar, caffeine, and more), to this svelte, boring version of myself, was long.
It involved a lot of meditation, a lot of giving up stuff, one by one, and a lot of crying, and not understanding why I was so damn miserable all the time.
The problem is that when you haven’t felt anything in a long time, when you remove all of those substances from your body and really start feeling again, oh god, it’s an absolute nightmare. I mean, yikes, feelings, right? They suck.
Especially if you are not used to feeling them.
They take up a lot of headspace, and heart space.
So, I’m not going to tell you stop smoking pot, or stop eating sugar. I mean, I’m not your mother, okay? So do what you want.
Why did I share this story? Because I share stuff. That’s what I do. You can take what you want from it and use it. Or don’t. I don’t really care either way. I just had to share this. As I always do.