Finding Peace in the Haze
I used to think peace was something you found on a mountaintop or at the end of some long, winding road. For me, it turned out to be something much simpler — a quiet moment with a little green plant.
Weed didn’t “fix” me. It didn’t erase the hard days or rewrite my past. What it did was slow the noise in my head long enough for me to breathe. It took the edge off the anxiety that kept me pacing at 2 a.m., and it softened the weight of memories I’d been carrying for years.
Instead of fighting my own mind, I started listening to it. I learned to sit still, to enjoy the way sunlight comes through the blinds, to laugh at dumb jokes again. It made space for gratitude. It made space for me.
People can say what they want about it — they haven’t walked in my shoes. I’m not here to argue or convince anyone. I’m just here to say this: for me, weed has been a friend, a medicine, and a bridge back to peace.
Shane higdon 