Sobriety

My battle for sobriety is almost laughably undramatic. I could likely move through life socially drinking, smoking weed on my days off, taking mushrooms on long hikes, and still appear successful—perhaps even more so than if I deny myself those particular pleasures. Nothing about my story requires rescue or intervention.

But for me, anything I ingest in order to feel different eventually becomes a path to mediocrity.

Mediocrity is not all bad. I’ve had genuinely meaningful experiences on psilocybin—moments where certain beliefs crystallized with unusual clarity. Cannabis made for some deeply pleasant days of rest; it was part of my sabbath routine for years. I reached conclusions under the influence that were not only positive, but enduring. These substances can induce better states while they are present in my system. The problem is that, for days afterward, I am consistently less than I was before.

What finally clarified this for me was noticing where the cost actually landed. It wasn’t in catastrophic outcomes or obvious dysfunction. It was in the baseline. The problem with borrowed elevation is not the peak it provides, but the tax it quietly imposes on ordinary hours. Life is not lived in moments of intensity; it is lived in the long stretch between them. Anything that reliably lowers my baseline, even slightly, steals from the part of life that actually compounds.

Sobriety, for me, is not a moral stance or an act of restraint. It is a decision to protect capacity. I want my energy, attention, and emotional range available when nothing is artificially amplifying or dulling them. I want my insights to arise from engagement with reality, not from chemistry that temporarily rearranges my perceptions. Whatever clarity is worth keeping should survive contact with a clear morning.

This is not a universal prescription. Different people have different constitutions, vulnerabilities, and callings. Wisdom is personal before it is transferable. I don’t think substances make people shallow or unthoughtful by default. I do think they make it easier to mistake intensity for depth and relief for progress. For me, that trade is too expensive.

So my standard is simple. I am willing to accept only those inputs that raise, or at least do not erode, my baseline over time. I want my best days to be repeatable, not exceptional, and my ordinary days to be fully inhabited. Sobriety is not about avoiding pleasure; it is about refusing a bargain that costs me who I am becoming. That clarity has proven worth keeping.