Rifling through the kitchen trash for a used vape, I knew I had a cannabis problem

December 8, 2025

I’ve known many cannabis users who get high every day. It’s easier to hide compared with alcohol or other drugs.

Image from Adobe Stock; Globe staff illustration

I used to tell myself that cannabis wasn’t addictive. I said it as a teenager and clung to it well into adulthood — until I found myself rifling through my kitchen trash, searching for the vape pen I’d thrown out hours earlier and vowed to get rid of. I untied the bag, wiped off the vape, and took a drag. I felt the familiar rush of relief, followed by shame and disgust: the trademark feelings of addiction. I wish I could say I only did that once.

I know I’m not alone in these experiences.

Many people who use cannabis say it’s a harmless plant — certainly not addictive. But according to astudy by Yale Medicine, about 10 percent of people who begin smoking cannabis will become addicted, and 30 percent of current users meet the criteria. These include an inability to reduce consumption, constant cravings, and relationship and social problems tied to marijuana use, according to the study.

When I first read that number — 30 percent — I was stunned. Yet, I shouldn’t have been. I’ve known many cannabis users who get high every day — before going to work, running errands, or taking care of their children. It’s an addiction that’s easier to hide compared with alcohol or other drugs.

My own habit started when I moved to Washington state in 2015, one of just a handful of states with legal recreational cannabis (it’s now legal in 24 states, three territories, and the District of Columbia). The plethora of dispensaries made it easy to stock up.

I told myself I wouldn’t get high daily, but that only lasted a few weeks. It was too easy to pop an edible or take a drag from a vape, and in the beginning, it seemed to make everything more fun. But it escalated until I got high even when I didn’t want to, or had promised myself I wouldn’t. I’d white-knuckle through cravings during the day, only to find myself walking into a dispensary half an hour before it closed, clutching a paper bag and feeling defeated on the way out.

During the years I was smoking heavily, I knew I had a problem. When I finally became ready to face it, I attended a Marijuana Anonymous meeting and considered the 12-step questions: Has using marijuana stopped being fun? Do you ever get high alone? Is it hard for you to imagine a life without marijuana? Do you use marijuana to avoid dealing with your problems or to cope with your feelings? Have you ever failed to keep promises you made about cutting down or controlling your use of marijuana? Yes, yes, and yes, I answered to almost every question.

It took a combination of therapy, 12-step meetings, and support from others facing the same problem, as well as watching myself smash a timed-lock container, to make me quit for good.

Unlike me, some people can have a healthy relationship with cannabis. One of my close friends smokes occasionally, without experiencing the cycle of cravings and obsession. And there are documented medical benefits of cannabis. It can help alleviate pain, stimulate appetite, and reduce nausea and vomiting, which is why it’s often prescribed to cancer patients undergoing chemotherapy.

But I’ve also seen some heavy users hide behind the touted medical benefits as a veil of denial and a reason to keep using. I, for one, told myself and others who questioned my consumption that it was helping my anxiety — and for some people, it does. But for others, like me, it can actually worsen anxiety and cause short-term paranoia and panic, according to a paper published by the Journal of Translational Medicine.

Cannabis users are also more likely to develop psychosis and long-term mental disorders, including schizophrenia, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

One potential use researchers are studying is the ability for those in recovery to reduce their alcohol consumption following a “California sober” strategy, which amounts to quitting alcohol and other drugs, and instead using marijuana. Short-term results of a recent study showed that participants who smoked cannabis consumed 19 percent to 27 percent less alcohol afterward than those who smoked a placebo, according to the American Journal of Psychiatry.

When I started smoking regularly, I drank less. But after a few months, when my tolerance to marijuana increased, I started needing something else to achieve the feeling I wanted, and my drinking increased, too. Over the years, I’ve known people in Alcoholics Anonymous who have tried the California sober approach to recovery — but as I saw on social media, they eventually left AA and started drinking again.

For me, the question wasn’t about which substance — alcohol or marijuana — was hurting me more. It was about the potential I wanted to achieve and the mother I wanted to someday become. I knew I couldn’t be that person while still trying to cope with any kind of addiction, with all the effort that requires.

On my own recovery journey, I had to give up drugs and alcohol entirely. A few relapses along the way proved that I couldn’t just get high or drink occasionally. To get back on track, I focused on the positive motivations I had for staying sober, including my dream of having a family and a healthy life moving forward.

I’ve been sober for more than five years. I’m married to a wonderful man and we have a beautiful daughter. Life isn’t perfect, but no amount of weed or escapism could compare to my life today, and I have no desire to go back to the cycle of addiction.

Even though I feel remnants of shame when I reflect on my behavior when I was high, I needed to experience those moments as a wake-up call to set me on the right path. And I’m grateful for that.


Elise Linscott is a journalist based in Western Massachusetts. Send comments to magazine@globe.com.