Weed and Me: Redefining Self-Care in Coronavirus
Illustration by Nina Slykhuis-Landry
The coronavirus has bulldozed us into realities we never wanted to imagine, and the vice industries welcomed us with open arms. This is especially true of cannabis; though its Canadian legalization is going on two years this fall, the market has experienced a resounding boom under Q. Since the beginning of March, online cannabis sales in Ontario have risen as much as 600 percent. In America, the states where cannabis is legal are reporting drastic spikes of their own. If you were previously curious about trying cannabis, the world standing still grants you an arena for exploration; ‘the new normal’ has taken on different meanings for different people, and processing it all under a hazy cloud seems attractive.
Some experts attribute rapid sales to concerns over the supply chain, but for Jordan Sinclair, vice president of communications for Canopy Growth, cannabis and alcohol help consumers that are looking to “...make being at home for a long period of time as tolerable as possible”. Whether the stressor is your family, your work situation, or the virus itself, our vices become easier to justify. It makes sense.
I’ve been smoking pretty regularly for about two years now; for me, the evening toke is a welcome nightcap before drifting off to sleep on a pile of cookies or last month’s laundry. It’s a sign that the day is done and that whatever else the universe wants can be answered tomorrow. When schoolwork or work-work or something in between rears an ugly head, my tiny bong with iridescent sheen (her name is Astrid) knows exactly what I am feeling and exactly how to make it better. On nights out, as a non-drinker, cannabis has eased the social interactions that never quite got easier with time. Recalling these instances, you can see a pattern - this was supposed to be a nighttime habit, and was treated as such in order to establish boundaries and reduce excuses.
As someone who regularly struggles with executive dysfunction as a complication of mental illness, “self-starting” is not in my vocabulary. It is a skill that has been shaken into me for the sake of life’s progression. Abstention from the wake-and-bake-type grift is a necessity that has kept me in check, as getting high for the day-to-day renders me absolutely useless in the hours that follow. Motivation is hard enough to come by, so with some kind of daily schedule or responsibility there’s a reason to self-regulate. Before quarantine, this felt like enough.
When quarantine was imposed, the schedule faded away. I found myself alone in my apartment, with six weeks to process whatever life would become before an internship started, and regulation once again became necessary. In these six weeks, I could get so much done, I reasoned with myself: there would be books to read, poems to write, floors to clean… or, of course, I could get ridiculously stoned and take naps through the daylight. With a sense of self-discipline left weakened under abnormal conditions (conditions which required limited exposure to the outside world), you can imagine which choice I made.
It is completely valid that, in these times, self-care is essential and productivity will be subjective, but this did not feel like any version of self-care. Productivity was nowhere to be found in any sense or definition. I was justifying a lack of control, scared and seemingly alone, and cannabis never made me feel the way I wanted it to.
The truth is, I wasn’t listening to my body. I thought I would use all this time to do something on my own terms, and take productivity into my own hands. What happened instead was that the uncertainties of the virus and my existing mental health problems teamed up. Even when I was doing nothing, it felt awful, but there was no reason to stop. Cannabis became more than a way for me to pass time. It allowed for stillness, to shut things out and wait until tomorrow - only tomorrow looked the same.
Though quarantine has soured my relationship with cannabis, it has also granted time for introspection. I am fortunate enough to have recognized this problem before it grew further beyond my control, and to have an amazing network of loved ones and resources that help to forge the pathway towards responsible use. In many ways, I love what cannabis has done for me, the peace it brings and the anxiety it has curbed, but dealing with these circumstances has now shown me that regulation is something I should never turn off. What that means is recognizing how health issues and environmental circumstances will both compound my cannabis dependence, and acting accordingly. If I want to continue enjoying cannabis without sacrificing other goals and priorities, I need to make it work for me. Something has to change.
When the realities of my situation became apparent, coping mechanisms and behavioural changes became necessary undertakings. One change that stuck was creating a physical distance between myself and my devices, so that at moments of temptation, I would have to walk across the apartment. Doing this gives me time to think about the purpose of the activity and whether I need it; this removes the greater ease with which I can reach into my bedside drawer.
A second observation is that, by consuming cannabis in different ways (that is to say, giving Astrid a break), there has been a lesser weight put onto my body. Infused cooking oils and butters were a great place to start. (If taken with caution and a proper understanding of dosage, turning to oils while in Q might be your best bet. Many experts suggest that refraining from bong use is a better idea - smoking cannabis is not directly linked to COVID-19 symptoms, but it may exacerbate respiratory illness.) What has also helped is to keep channels of communication open with people I trust; though physical distancing remains, my loved ones keep me in check and understand my goals.
As the world opens back up and quarantine subsides, I wonder if this destructive behaviour will subside as well. Something of a routine has come back to me, but I am still at home and alone, left mainly to my own devices. Fall classes will most likely be online. There is room for my new commitments to falter. Even so, after deliberate reflection and a commitment to different strategies, I remain optimistic about the potential for my relationship with cannabis to improve - both in quarantine and the long-term. Listening to your body is a difficult skill to master, but it is one that I am starting to take much more seriously. This journey has not been easy. Committing to moderation at this moment in time feels completely backwards when an altered state-of-mind used to make everything feel okay. But ignoring unhealthy patterns at such a time of vulnerability feels backwards, too. By working towards clarity, a new sense of control is within my reach. I hope that I’m getting back to me.
A disclaimer/note from the author: Please note that dependence and addiction are recognized as separate conditions. The strategies employed in the article are rooted in lived experience - what has worked for the author of the article may not work for you.
If you are concerned about your own cannabis use, you can assess your cannabis use using the E-Toke Cannabis Use Self-Assessment. For additional support for addiction, visit Health Canada's website for a comprehensive list of addiction support lines & resources.
Please also consider using the CSSDP's Cannabis Education Toolkit available in both English and French
Rebecca Judd is a writer and student currently based in Ottawa. When not stuck in a daydream, she can be found writing, collaging, and talking about The Sopranos to anyone who will listen.
Nina Slykhuis-Landry is a Montreal-based illustrator, cartoonist and mural artist.
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