"I haven't felt this clean for a thousand years."
Farewell Song Sweet From My Trees

Today marks 9 years of sobriety for me.  It hasn't been a struggle.  The only struggle is in making up your mind.  Hitting "rock bottom," perhaps.  But once you've done that, it's easy, because all you have to do is walk away.  Don't fight it; you can't do that.  You can't beat that 900-pound vampire at his own game.  The only way to win the fight is to walk away.  Once you realize that the monster only wins when you're in the ring, and that the ring is nothing more than 10 square feet of ratty carpet in the corner of a musty, moldy room adorned with undesirable choices and people who secretly hate you, you can just walk away from it.  It isn't cowardly; it's victory.  There's nothing cowardly about victory.

Also, there is no need to align yourself with a godless religion like the Program, in which you must pledge your allegiance to your own enslavement to your addiction, which of course renders you powerless over it.  If you say "I'm an alcoholic" every time you address the room, of course it will be true.  Declaring one's enslavement to a deadly condition is not the path to freedom from that condition.  While the Program is definitely better than drinking and/or using, and while you should definitely go to a meeting if you're desperate, there's no need to chain yourself to the devil's rehabilitation program to beat the devil at his own game.  You can just walk away.  It isn't cowardly; it's a victory.

And there's nothing cowardly about victory.

"Death and life are in the power of the tongue:
and they that love it shall eat the fruit thereof."
Proverbs 18:21

For this reason, I don't say, "Hello, my name is Marcus Aurelius Maximus, Commander of the Felix Legions and the Armies of the North, and I'm an alcoholic," I say, "my name is Marcus Aurelius Maximus, Commander of the Felix Legions and the Armies of the North, and I have been delivered from alcohol by the blood and grace of Jesus Christ."  It's true.  And it works.

I also have no problem saying that weed helped me lose my "sea legs," and learn to walk on solid ground again.  I sailed a sinking ship over staggering seas of booze for years, and marijuana helped me stay grounded, especially at first.  Many people will think it is a form of relapse (I don't), but if you find yourself having to break the emergency glass on some weed, to get you through the worst of it, don't worry about it.  I'll speak for myself, but smoking weed wasn't a relapse for me.  It was an out.  A gateway, perhaps.  The Lord called me away from weed almost 3 years ago, but marijuana saved my life when I had to quit drinking the first time in 2001.  Every time I had the jones, far beyond any kind of desire or even need, but rather the knowledge that I was going to drink, I took a hit of weed.  Just a hit.  And instantly, the alcohol jones was replaced with a sense of calm, happiness, appreciation of the day, and gratitude to Jesus Christ for, well, everything.  Especially the lack of desire to drink.  And it happened instantly.  Wherever it sits in your subjective theology, this fact from my personal history is simply true.  Marijuana saved my life.

For this reason, I agree with the tiresomely-ubiquitous mainstream opinion that marijuana is the gateway drug.  They are right.  Weed is the gateway away from all the actual drug-drugs, the toxic chemical substances that will actually enslave you, and which are actually deadly.  I was always grateful to God for creating it.  He finally called me away from it, just a few years ago, but not because it's bad, in and of itself.  He called me away from it because it was time for me to quit.  To move on.  To graduate.  Because weed definitely can become its own big important thing.  An idol of sorts.  It was time for me to put it down, and by the time I did, I was glad to see it go.  But it saved my life in 2001 (and other times too), and I was grateful to Jesus Christ for years for allowing me to smoke it.  Marijuana is definitely the gateway drug.  But not the way they mean it.

I'm not dogmatic about my opinions, but I don't believe weed is either a sacrament or a sacrilege.  I believe it's a chemical, which may or may not have any useful purpose.  Applying religious significance to it, whether sacred or profane, seems idolatrous to me.  I'm not going to turn into a witch if I smoke it, and neither are you.  People are not that weak.  We're definitely dumb, and can be led to believe all kinds of ridiculous nonsense, but turning into a witch is an act of intent. 

Okay, but, will you get infested with demons if you smoke it?  It's a good question, and in my opinion, I don't know, maybe, but not necessarily.  Probably, it depends on whether or not the weed was blessed by a Santa Muerte or Malverde hitman/priest on behalf of some human-sacrificing cartel traffickers.  Or a bunch of hooded people in the woods, or anything of the kind.  In cases like that, I'd say your chances of getting infected with demons are very near 100%.  But that is perhaps a different beast than the high you get from some ditch weed your uncle grows on the windowsill.  Or something you bought at a recreational dispensary in Flagstaff.

I may be wrong.  I'm not dogmatic about my opinions.  God made the point moot for me years ago.  But I do still drink coffee, and do not feel the tug in my spirit to quit.  Are there spirits in that?  Because coffee is a drug.

Right?

Anyway, 9 years.  It hasn't been a struggle.  The struggle was getting to the point of finally putting down the struggle.  I wrote about it in the article Farewell Song Sweet From My Trees, which documents the first days and weeks of my sobriety.  Leaving Arizona hungover with my My Little Braveheart makeover, recording with my dying friend in Oregon, marching across a wide expanse of sand in Mendocino County like Lawrence of Arabia just to take a bath... it's an interesting story.  But if you find yourself caught in the mire of addiction, there is hope.  I'm living proof.  I was the worst drunk most people have ever met.  One of those worthless, life-unaffirming people who make the party better... until they destroy it.  I have no idea what a "recreational" drink looks like, a "glass of wine with dinner," or anything of the kind.  Drinking was a champion loser sport for me.  But even though I was a champion loser-sport drinker, the best of the worst, there were no rules to the game.  The sport has no handbook, or rules.  Blotto or Bust, was my motto.  If I drank one beer, I would not stop until I'd consumed all the alcohol in the world.

I succeeded at this, precisely twice.  The hangovers were brutal.

“But I say unto you, I will not drink henceforth of this
fruit of the vine, until that day when I drink it
new with you in my Father's kingdom.”
Matthew 26:29

I'm glad it's over.  I don't miss it for a minute.

Victory!