By Kendall Wack

In my bloodline, addiction runs like water. There are more people in my family who struggle with substance abuse than those who do not. While I am extremely fortunate to be able to say that almost every single one of my family members are in a state of active recovery, addiction is a dark cloud that has hung over my head for my entire life. 

While other parents were talking to their children about puberty and sex, mine were talking to me about alcohol and drug abuse. You could say I had to grow up a bit faster than most children my age. By the time I reached high school, I was adamant that I would never consume any sort of mind-altering substance; my pubescent self was thoroughly convinced that the only way to beat my genetic disposition to addiction was through absolute substance abstention. Surprisingly enough – or, rather, to those who knew me in high school, unsurprisingly enough – this was something that I actually stuck to. 

Then, it happened. The summer before my freshman year of college, freshly eighteen, I finally gave in and decided to smoke marijuana with a friend. Though it would be months before I smoked it a second time and even longer before a drop of alcohol – my family’s personal vice – would touch my lips, my perspective on substance use began to shift. 

When you grow up around addicts, whether recovering or not, you quickly learn to associate substances with pain. You watch as they change the people you love into people you don’t recognise; they destroy them from the inside out. Witnessing this horrific process teaches you one simple lesson: substances equal bad, and sober equals good. 

After safely trying and enjoying substances for the first time, however, I began to wonder if this was necessarily the case. Instead of villainising substances, I wondered if there was a way for me to partake in them while still being mindful of their effect on me. Like the nerd that I am, I began to do some research on marijuana – psychological effects, dosages, tolerance. All of it. 

Out of this research and assisted by the mandatory underage drinking prevention course required for first-year students at most American universities, I developed a system of rules and regulations for my substance use, which I like to refer to as my list for ‘conscious consumption’. 

Under this system, whenever I decide to consume any sort of substance, I perform a series of check-ins before doing so. If I am feeling sad, distressed or generally just upset in any way, I stop myself immediately. The same goes for when I’m feel like I need a distraction from life. Relaxation and decompression are one thing; escapism is another. I cannot cultivate a healthy relationship with substances – or, for that matter, myself – when I am using them to avoid or alter my difficult feelings. 

This level of self-awareness is not always easy. In fact, it’s rather difficult to actively be always in tune with both your mind and body. It’s much easier to have a drink or two than to work through a ginormous, daunting emotion or trigger, but I’ve found that doing the latter is much more of a net positive in my life. This is why, the second that I felt like my drinking was leading to more sadness than anything else, I went completely sober for a couple of months and focused more on therapy and less on partying. 

While this choice definitely impacted the friendships I had at the time, it allowed me the clarity to see where in my life changes needed to be made. When I came out of that period of sobriety, I found that I had a better relationship with alcohol – one where I respected my boundaries and limits and didn’t have to get completely hammered every weekend to have fun. 

The idea of conscious consumption is so countercultural, especially as someone growing up in the United States. Here we do everything in excess, including drinking and partying. While there is certainly a conversation to be had about why the United States’ culture in particular leads to excessive substance abuse, the fact of the matter is that getting drunk or high is not an uncommon form of escapism for most American adults. 

Drinking is one of the first solutions to be recommended to fix just about any problem. Had a long day? Sit back and enjoy a beer. Wanting to unwind? Uncork that wine bottle. While these things can certainly be relaxing, it is odd that the act of frequent and excessive substance use is not only prioritised over any sort of emotional regulation but also just generally normalised. 

This is not to say, however, that substance use should not be normalised. Harm reduction is an extremely vital part of fighting addiction, and stigmatising substance use only furthers the gap between those in active addiction and those who are lucky enough not to be. Whether or not every substance-using adult is at a heightened risk for developing an addiction, every single one could benefit from consuming those substances in a more conscious way. 

Genetically disposed or not, we are all one major loss – be it a death, a relationship, a job or secure housing – away from falling victim to the vicious beast that is substance abuse and addiction. 

Though throughout the years I have changed my mind about the calculated risks I am willing to take surrounding substance use, I had to learn about addiction the hard way. Hopefully, by practising something that looks more like conscious consumption, you never have to learn about it that way, too.