I’m nobody’s customer

My evolving relationship with Mary Jane.

Photo by Tânia Mousinho on Unsplash

Here’s another thing I’m cutting back on during this stormy season: weed.

I’ve been thinking about it for months. I’ve noticed how often I’m consuming. I’ve noticed that it takes more to get the same effect. I’ve thought about what I’m spending, what I’m putting into my body and whether I’m really comfortable with either one.

Then, earlier this month, I asked the budtender at my dispensary to pull up the dates of my previous visits.

I wanted to know how often I’d been there. What he told me wasn’t pleasant.

Every month. Almost every other week.

I started to feel like a customer. And I’m nobody’s customer.

That was probably the final straw, but the questions had been there for a while.

I don’t want to sit around getting high in my spare time. I don’t want to partake because I’m bored, restless or because it’s there. I don’t want it to become something I do automatically.

I’ve outgrown the lifestyle.

That’s a strange thing to say because marijuana has been useful to me in ways that go well beyond fun and fellowship. I’ve written before about how it can give me energy in the morning, help me get through household chores, send my thoughts in unexpected directions, settle me down at night or remind me to eat when I’ve skipped a meal.

There are still things I love about marijuana. I want to change why I reach for it. I want weed to be something I use for relaxation and recreation, not something I rely on to get through an ordinary day.

I want to tap into myself more.

I want to carry a clear mind more often. I want to see what I can get done, think about, create and experience without needing to alter my state first.

The money certainly gives me another reason.

I spent nearly $2,000 on marijuana in 2024. I don’t know the number for 2025, and I haven’t calculated 2026 yet. I imagine both years will be higher.

But money isn’t the biggest reason.

I don’t trust it anymore.

The product feels more engineered than it used to. I notice it in the colors, the THC percentages and the effects. There’s more of everything now.

THC percentages are as high as they’ve ever been. Inventory is as abundant as it’s ever been. Prices are as low as they’ve ever been.

And it takes more bud to satisfy me. I’ve noticed that gradually. It’s like going from two cups of coffee a day to 10. Eventually, two cups just aren’t going to do what they used to.

Then there’s what my body has been telling me.

Once, I experienced frequent urination. That was a first. I’ve gotten light-headed and overheated. I’ve passed out.

I’m not proud of any of it.

And yet, I haven’t stopped.

I think about my lungs. My oral hygiene. My brain. My body’s cells. I think about what I’m putting into myself and how much more frequently I’ve been doing it.

And then I think about the money.

I don’t want to keep spending hundreds of dollars at a time on something I’m trying to use less of. So I’m scaling back.

I’m not quitting. I’m not making some grand declaration about what I’ll never do again.

I’m trying to create some space.

More days with a clear head. More time between purchases. Fewer times reaching for weed because I’m bored, restless or simply because it’s there.

This was already in the works before the financial storm hit. I want to be more disciplined about why I light up.

I want to relax with it. I want to enjoy it. I want it to remain something I choose for recreation rather than something I rely on.

I’ve spent years learning what marijuana can add to my life. Now I want to find out what a little less of it can give back.