It's a Phase - A Sort of Epilogue to the Previous (yet ongoing) Series

I'm one of those children (well, now I'm an adult! Yes, I turned 18 a couple weeks ago, so this post, though being pretty "meh", is a big deal considering it is my first post written as an ADULT!) who tells their parents a lot about the social situations at school. I've looked to my parents for guidance ever since I was young, but in a strange way. What I mean is that I rarely disclose information relating to myself to my parents; I always tell them about other kids. In a way, it's my mechanism for proving to them how superior I am as a child to the rest of the children my age. It demonstrates to them that they were apt enough to raise the most profoundly intellectual, talented and fantastical creature known to man. 

Now, obviously, I am not the most profoundly intellectual, talented and fantastical creature known to man. I'm pretty standard. I may be a little taller than everyone else, a little darker than your average pasty white person, and a little better at writing, but in the grand scheme of it, I'm just an Average Joe. But, I've always felt a duty to portray myself as better than I am. Once you decide upon painting yourself to be great, you have basically two options for how to do it: Option 1 is to work... really hard. Work to sincerely achieve greatness. I've never been too fond of work - I've always found it terribly difficult and tiring. So, I always pick option 2: to paint the mass as wretched, and therefore come across as incredible yourself, relative to the crowd. Let's put this into simpler terms, since that sentence was incoherent and I can't think of a way to change it to make it logical-sounding: If everyone else is a meth-head, and you're just a marijuana-using-stoner, you're not too shabby, right? 

In a sense, and correct me if I am wrong here, but every child wants to seem good in their parents' eyes. Unless, of course, you're in some rebellious phase. And though this, paired with the title, may make you believe that I am about to tell you about various teenage "phases", I'm not. This was just a long digression, meant to serve as an introduction.

I have this friend. He goes to a different school, but we keep in touch occasionally through messages, and calls, and whatnot. We're not best friends, but I know what's happening in his life to some extent through what he tells me, what peers tell me, and the conclusions I draw based on various things. What's so special about this darling friend of mine? He started experimenting with drugs and alcohol sooner than anyone else. Most kids start their -as I like to call it- "substantial-awakening" (it's ironic, because I'm referring to "substances", but I say "substantial", which has a polar-opposite connotation!) in their mid-high school years. Grade 10 is the usual time that kids try their first stuff(s). That is general. My friend started his in grade 8. He attended a school that was a perfect breeding ground for negative things like those aforementioned. Both of us are now in grade 12, albeit in different schools.

From grade 8 to grade 12, my friend has been trying a plethora of drugs, strains, and drinks, observing how they made him feel. (I realize that I just made that sound as if he was doing all these drugs in the name of research.) He tried "molly, shrooms and weed" at the same time one night, and got "really fucked up". That's just one example. He's had nights where he has been paralyzed with drug-induced fears. Nights where he's been practically immobile from the "vibes" of certain strains of weed. And, nights where he has felt really great. None of these nights were isolated incidents.

If you're older, that statement may not make sense, but let me explain: You have two types of drug-users in schools: There are the ones that take drugs every few months, at parties and such, and then there are the ones that take drugs all the time. My friend belonged to the latter category.

There was a period, towards the end of the last school year that he tried to get off the stuff(s). He decided to quit smoking pot every night before bed. It was difficult for him. Up until him, I had only seen withdrawal effects in movie characters, like Christian Bale in The Fighter. To be quite honest, up until then, I had also believed that marijuana wasn't even a real drug, and that one couldn't become dependant on it. But I was wrong. (Before I continue, let me clarify that my friend's withdrawal was not nearly as gruesome as Christian Bale's in the movie.)

Apparently, if you "blaze" every night, your heart becomes used to marijuana slowing it down and your brain becomes used to pot putting it to sleep. Once you get off the weed, your body finds it hard to put itself to sleep without the aid of the cannabis. Now that you know this, before reading on, take a moment to imagine what could happen to one if they suddenly stopped smoking the dank cush after smoking it almost religiously for an extended period of time.

I'm glad you thought about it.

Now, I'll provide the right answer to you, and you can compare it with your own: you cannot sleep. That's the answer. So, my friend began looking like a walking corpse. He was pale, and his eyes were bloodshot, and he was horrendously tired.

Some nights, I stay up late because I'm doing something stupid and I wake up after about 7 hours of sleep. I feel tremendously tired, and I say things like "oh man, this sucks, nobody sleeps less than me!". But, of course, that's just my silly teen angst talking and people do sleep less than me. The point is that I can't function with less than 9 hours of sleep. In front of me, however, was my friend who was attempting to function on no sleep. He disclosed to me that he hadn't slept for 2 days straight, and that he was, therefore, feeling pretty bad. I couldn't fathom his situation.

He was proud that he had stopped smoking, but at the same time, he was in a zombified state. So, I suggested that he maybe smoke a little bit that night just to come to his senses. It's a very paradoxical statement, you know? He reminded me that I was the one that, just a few days prior, "with sad eyes", told him that maybe he should lay off the drugs. OK, sure, I said that, but I hadn't adequately recognized the consequences. It's easy for me to dish out advice. I've never been dependant on drugs. For me, the notion of quitting cannabis is about as daunting as brushing my teeth (i.e. not at all daunting). I didn't know that it could lead to this current picture. I explained that to him, but he was too proud to succumb back to the grass, and moreover, he was regarding the whole situation as a sort of game. I had told him to quit, he had decided to, and now he just couldn't allow himself to give in to the temptation - some sort of strange spite. He confided in me that he was now going to gradually fix himself. He would first quit smoking daily, lowering the frequency to weekly, after which he'd lower the frequency more etc..

It was a seemingly good plan because, after each weekend, he'd come to school looking refreshed. In his own words, he "hibernated during the weekends." Things were looking up! He was now "turning up" only once in a while. Once the school year ended, he reassured me that he'd keep up the good work in the new year, and only do drugs every so often, for special events. This was a better-than-expected outcome.

But naturally, he relapsed the next school year, and, after I found out, he justified it to me as his way of "just tryin ta have fun". Only, this year, he wasn't just taking just weed; it had escalated to peculiar concoctions of chemistry. Oh well. I was a little disappointed. I think it's hard to be quite upset with someone when you don't see them regularly. I just expressed my discontent with a sad face emoji, and promised to not patronize him any further. He was a little saddened by my remarks, but it wasn't anything a little chemistry couldn't fix. I thought that that was it. I thought that his fate was sealed.

I explained this whole situation to my parents. Unlike my sister, who firmly claimed that, by hanging out with such a guy, I myself was becoming a druggie, my parents were more moderate. They understood, or at least trusted, that I was not an idiot to be pulled into this perpetual whirlwind of better living through chemistry.

Through discussing it with them, I came to a lightbulb moment. I realized that there was, like with everything, a potential blessing in disguise to my friend's current troubles. My wise mother even agreed with me.

You see, now, in grade 12, a lot of kids who you'd never expect to be interested in drugs and alcohol, begin to show their true colors. At this delicate transition from high school to the supposed "real world", these kids are starting to find relief in numbing their stresses and pains with substances. This is dangerous because it sets them up for failure at an important stage - the stage that could potentially determine their futures comforts. (Good university = good job = good life). When the drug-loving phase passes for these new-drug-experimenters, there is a chance that many important things will pass them by.

But look at my friend: His drug phase is already starting to wear off. I know for a fact that he is going to less parties, using less drugs and generally leading a healthier life. It's almost as if his substantial-awakening was a phase, and is now nearing the end of its existence. Who would have guessed that someone so seemingly enamored with the party-life would live to eventually see it lose its lustre? It's so funny because just as everyone else's love of drugs is ramping up and going wild, his is decaying. I imagine it as two urns: Each urn is respectively filled -to a different extent- with the juice of party-loving. One urn belongs to my friend, and the other belongs to everybody else. It's as if his urn is draining, and each drop that it spills, plops beautifully into the other urn, fuelling everyone else's desires to get numb and wasted.

So maybe that is the benefit of doing all of that reckless stuff when you're young - you have nothing to lose.

As for my friend, well, he's doing decently. He is definitely uninterested in university. In fact, that ship has sailed for him (application dates for respectable universities have passed). But, his plan of becoming an electrician is still valid and possible. The application for that hasn't passed. And, his prospects are looking up. His interest in doses and mimosas continues to lessen, and his plainness and simplicity of life continues to increase. I'm interested to see how he turns out. I have a feeling that, in a few years, when most of my old peers are found passed out in fraternity bathtubs, my friend will be hard at work fixing wires (or whatever it is that electricians do) with drug-crazed nights in the deepest crevasses of his mind. He'll be a typical worker, and the most calm, plain, mature and normal of us all. That's all just predictions, of course.

He's slowly on the path to a negative urine test, and a positive life. And that's all that I, and his parents, can hope.