My Faded High


It really did feel good to be high.

I loved that mellow vibe a good high brought about. That airy flow. That low eye slow thoughts everything is funny and profoundly beautiful and full of enlightenment type of high.

It felt sooo amazing to be high. Once I found it it’s as though it was just made for my life. It made everything tolerable. It made everything feel good. Everything felt better high. Every experience was more amazing high. Add that high to a good cocktail of liquor and believe me, the party is within you. Where ever you are, where ever you go. I can safely say I loved to smoke. I thoroughly enjoyed it. Even the times I choked and felt like I’d die and had to skip a few puffs and just pass it. It was an amazing love of mine.

I smoked a lot. I came down from my highs a lot. So I smoked a lot. I came down, I rolled another, I went up, I came down, it wasn’t enough, it just kept fading. And I’m not trying to sound clichĂ© but it just really wasn’t enough. I’ve smoked and misused medication, mine or not, just to extend it, just to intensify it. But it always faded. It faded and reality was always still there waiting by the door. Just sitting impatiently waiting on your solace to escape you and get back to all its bickering and expectations.

I hated being sober. Really, hated it. Everything demanded to be felt and somedays I really hated having the ability to feel. My highs gave me the ability to be numb. Gave me invisibility. Gave me acceptance. Gave me attention. Gave anything and everything I wanted. Because high me had no real boundaries nor limitations. I was pretty much a fearless me when high. So I was also a danger to myself. A danger to my virtue and my God given purpose and identity.

Somehow God became my comfort. He swapped out that desire and somehow filled that need.

I wasn’t one of those miraculous over night deliverances. I was one of those that had a good bible study and got home to a good spliff and a nice drink and had a nice high sleep. Wake up feeling like, ‘man was that a good high’. Then I was convicted. His spirit in me refused to accept it. Refused to be silent on the topic. He was relentless and I had a crutch I loved walking around with. I decided I needed it to survive my life as it was. I needed to be high to quiet my mind. I just had to stay high. I needed it to ignore God. I needed it to turn my face away from the open arms of my Saviour. I needed it to quench His spirit in me. I couldn’t hear Him so clearly through my clouds.

Believe me when I tell you that I hated getting high but I loved being high. I hated misrepresenting God but I loved having company to smoke with. And I had lots of company. High.

When I was so convicted that I cleaned my space out, believe me I spent a long time searching for even the dust of something to light and smoke. I’ve left God in church or in prayer and just went on a search for this feeling, this pseudo calm, this pseudo peace, this pseudo voice of ‘I’m ok, your ok, breathe’. But I wasn’t ok. I was just high. I was just pacified. There was no milk coming out.

But by His strength (His alone), I denied the feeling long and hard enough and rested and relied on His strength long and hard enough till my body stopped asking for it. It began to know and understand that the answer would always be no. But it wasn’t like having the rug pulled out from under me. It was more like being lead from a spot marked X beneath a crashing anvil, into a better, safer space. Once in that place I could recognize and accept Him giving me all I needed to not hop on a bus and head back in that direction. This space is just so much better.

I can see a nice fat Marley (lol) and deny myself. I can love Him more than that desire. I used to love smoking so understand that I didn’t replace smoking with God but I denied myself smoking to gain God. To inherit what He created for me. To receive all of heaven. To soak up all of His love and without fear or reservation, share that love. To share His love with a clear mind from a pure place.

I’ve had some real good highs but believe me that I haven’t missed a day of it, being in love with God. Having Jesus. Having someone love me beyond reason. Love me without reward. Love me freely. Love me wholly. Love me eternally. Sometimes I really do think that God is crazy. But He is just who He is. Love.

My faded high.

Rae Sonson,
May 23, 2016,


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