my drugs are better than your drugs

and other twisted myths about drugs and the people who use them

Occasionally I find myself blurting out with no warning, “I do drugs!” 

It’s like a nervous tic or something. It happens sometimes when I’m giving a podcast interview or working the crowd at some business event. I’ll be in the middle of a conversation about how to write better marketing emails and suddenly feel the need to inform everyone that I am a drug user. 

And it’s not just at work. I do this everywhere, even when the stakes are higher.

Photo by Joel Smith Photography

When my ex-husband brought up my drug use with our mediator as a negotiation chip to cut into my parenting time, I called Family and Child Services (FACS) and told them about my drug use too. It was a bit surreal to be talking about psychedelics with an agent of the government who might have the power to take away my children. It helps that I am insulated by the colour of my skin, my wealth, education and social status, but even so there was a loud voice in my head shouting, “What the actual fuck are you doing right now, Tarzan!?!” 

FACS never called back.

I like to tell myself they recognized a grownup adult who has enough of a career and income to pay all her own bills plus her ex-husband’s, is proactively reaching out in an honest way, and therefore can potentially be trusted to make her own decisions about her own body (which NO ONE SHOULD HAVE TO JUSTIFY, but here we are).

I’m getting braver in these conversations.

For a long time I would add qualifiers so that people would know it was safe and therapeutic and all very above board, but the truth is I use drugs both recreationally and therapeutically, and furthermore it’s never so black and white. I’ve used drugs in both safe and unsafe ways, and sometimes in chaotic ways. Just like I had to learn how to use alcohol responsibly and safely in my teens, I’ve had to learn how to use drugs responsibly and safely as a grown-up. 

It’s not so different from any other activity a person might choose to take up as an adult. When I told my bestie I was planning a solo camping trip she got really worried, especially since I was going on and on about bears. Is she going to get mauled? What if she flips her kayak and there’s no one around? What if she gets lost? How will she survive without Doritos? She worried a lot (and still does worry because we are each other’s best friend in the whole world) until she had this incredible epiphany. 

Going camping is just like doing drugs. It’s only dangerous if you aren’t prepared and don’t have the information you need to do it safely.

…which is really hard if that information isn’t readily available. 

I bought a $20 course about backcountry camping from Camper Christina. I quizzed my friends who have a ton of camping experience. I talked about bears and bear deterrents with the sales guy at Bass Pro Shop, the water taxi driver, the forest rangers at the campground, my writing coach who used to lead backcountry trips professionally, basically anyone who might know anything helpful. I also listened to a ton of podcasts about camping, and borrowed stacks of books from the library. 

Never once did I feel embarrassed or like I needed to justify how many days I’d be gone for, or why I was doing it alone. I didn’t have to explain whether my camping trip would be therapeutic or recreational. Obviously it’s both (and anyway, who cares)?! Everyone I spoke with uniformly congratulated me on how brave it was, what an awesome time I was going to have, and what a meaningful experience this would be. Nobody frowned at me or questioned my choices. 

What if conversations about drug use could be as ordinary, informative and non-judgmental as conversations about camping?

I dream of a day when I can announce to the clerk at Shoppers Drug Mart, “I’m trying 2CB for the first time this Saturday and I want to be super safe. What kind of test kits have you got?” Then, in my dream scenario, kind of like the guy from Bass Pro Shops did when I asked if I could buy some bear spray, the clerk would open a magical cupboard full of kits, grab one from the shelf and say, “All three of my daughters keep one of these in their purses when they go clubbing,” then go on to explain how to use it. 

She wouldn’t question my judgement, ask for explanations or sermonize me on the dangers of addiction. She would trust that I’m doing what I need to do in order to have a safe experience, knowing all of that information is readily available, and that I could take a class or join a group or ask a friend if I needed any additional help.

But we don’t live in that world.

We live in a world where smart humans are treated like children when it comes to drug use, where conversations about drugs are highly stigmatized (and extra-stigmatized if you aren’t white and you aren’t doing socially acceptable drugs), choices are limited and supply is forced onto the black market, making it more dangerous and hard to get good quality product. 

We need to question our assumptions on what it says about a person’s character if they use drugs. Maybe it doesn’t say anything at all! My husband did not have the ability to self-regulate when it came to drug and alcohol use, so he assumed that I did not have that ability either but he was wrong. I can and do self-regulate when it comes to my drug use. A lot of people do, actually.

That’s why I tell random strangers and blurt out on podcasts that I use drugs. It’s not to be controversial. It’s so that people can challenge their assumptions and feel safe asking questions. This way they can get better information and make their own informed choices around substance use.

It’s not safe for just anyone to have those conversations or be so public about using drugs, and this is just one way that I can use my privilege for the benefit of others, including those who do not hold the same dominant identities that I do.

I’m planning my next trip now—camping, not drugs. It’s a lot more remote and there are many more unknowns. I have to learn how to use a compass and carry a canoe. It'll be colder, there’ll be far fewer humans around, and no charging stations whatsoever. I’m taking a class about land navigation, layering in more safety measures, and of course, talking to more people and asking a million totally amateur questions. 

I hope one day that there’ll be enough information, support and access for people to make their own informed choices about drug use, just like there is for me and my camping excursions. 

Feel free to ask me questions in the comments, even if you have to preface it by saying, “I really don’t know anything so please go slow,” just the way I do with my camping questions. 

Recommended reading:

1. Oh My Heart is an email newsletter featuring stories about drugs and how they can be used, plus it’s written by my bestie, who also happens to be my favourite person to do drugs with.

2. Drug Use For Grown Ups by Dr. Carl Hart taught me that almost everything I thought I knew about drug use (and drug users) was not only wrong, but also extremely fckn racist.

3. Before you pay a large sum of money and fly to another country for the kind of drug experience only highly privileged people can afford, listen to Cover Story: Power Trip, an investigative podcast series by New York Magazine about the underworld of psychedelic guides, and how even above-board research organizations like MAPS that are doing legal guided journeys could be doing better. We still have so far to go in this area.

4. In case it sounds like I am a pretentious psychedelic user, I just want to state for the record that I do not think my drugs are better or more sophisticated than anyone else’s.

Hugs + drugs (as my bestie likes to say),

Tarzan