Neatfreaks & Potheads

Getting High & Cleaning – A Correlation?

A few months before I got pregnant and had to actually stop smoking pot (at least, mostly) I decided to try to quit for a month.

I had been trying to get pregnant for awhile, and while I highly doubted my smoking weed had anything to do with the infertility, I strongly felt that I needed to at least give it a shot.

A day or two before I was to officially start the ban I smoked with my husband Dan and looked at the messy closet in our spare bedroom, where we usually smoked. The plan was for this to eventually become the baby’s room, although we ended up moving before a little one came.

“This is why I like smoking!” I said, arms outstretched. “Look at how disgusting that closet is! And I don’t care! I just don’t care, because I’m high.”

Although this wasn’t horrifically long ago, it seems odd to me now. When I’m high, I have much more patience for cleaning. Everything slows down. Instead of it being an overwhelming chore I’m more able to tackle one thing at a time.

It’s funny to look back and see that it used to be the opposite, that I would actually clean less when high and care more about messes when sober. Maybe after all these years of smoking I’ve finally trained myself to be productive when stoned.

My First Connection With Drugs & Cleaning

When I was 20 I had a bad trip on shrooms. I had done shrooms before, but this was a different experience. I was in college living in off campus housing and was at my friend Silas’s. We had just finished watching the remake of Charlie & The Chocolate Factory.

Which is not a movie I would recommend watching while on drugs, by the way. I remember so vividly the way my body tensed up as I watched the horror of the squirrel scene unfold.

I realized I was going down a bad rabbit hole and I didn’t want to drag my tripping friends down with me. I told them I wasn’t feeling well and abruptly left and went to my own apartment.

I got a hold of my roommate Jane and told her I was in a bad place and basically asked her to come home and trip sit me. She did, with her friend Cam. They sat with me while I went through various stages of crying, freaking out, and watching God knows what moving on the ceiling.

“I think I can imagine what you’re seeing! I’m like sympathy tripping,” Cam said while squinting up at the ceiling.

I had some suicidal thoughts during this time. I told myself it wouldn’t make any sense to kill myself while I was on drugs. I felt like calling my mom. Boy am I glad I didn’t do that.

Silas eventually came over with his roommate, our other friend we were tripping with. And he got our mutual friend Katie to come over. Before I knew it, I had 10 people in my apartment incredibly concerned about me. It was humbling.

As the drugs slowly started to wear off I had a jarring realization that my apartment was a complete mess. Katie was currently drinking wine out of a measuring cup because no glasses were clean. I mean, it was college, and it was boxed wine, nobody was expecting the Hilton here, but still.

As everyone was smoking pot and socializing I made my way around tidying up. Later, when everyone including Jane was gone, and I was no longer hallucinating, I cleaned even more.

My apartment was spotless for the first time. I felt relaxed. I could breathe. Everything would be okay now. Suicidal thoughts and morphing ceilings were gone.

I talked to my ex boyfriend I was still in love with at the time on the phone. “I had a bad trip but I think I’m okay,” I said, looking over my apartment with pride and accomplishment and relief.

I think I might have lost it for awhile, but I have definitely recaptured that feeling of taking control of your surroundings by cleaning. Which is more tolerable to do when you’re high, but I can certainly handle keeping a tidy house without weed.

And if you’re wondering, I made it 28 days before giving in to smoking. So close.

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