When the COVID-19 pandemic pushed the world into lockdown two years ago, a recent college graduate in New England (let’s call her Julia*) suddenly realized that her daily obsession with marijuana had already prepared her for life in isolation .

“Marijuana is a drug that doesn’t make you want to be with other people,” says Julia, who had just returned home to support her mother in her battle against stage IV cancer. “It’s a drug that makes you want to sit alone in your room. So when the pandemic hit, my first thought was, ‘Oh wow, now everyone is going to live like me.’

“That was a scary moment for me,” he admits, “realizing that a global pandemic isn’t going to change the way I live my life much.”

Julia decided it was time to ditch her best friend since college: dab pens, the small electronic devices that release a vapor of highly concentrated cannabis oil or wax, much more potent than the clumps of buds, stems, and seeds that come with her. They sold in bags in the past. The day.

Today, MA welcomes more users than ever. The surge in interest has coincided with the ongoing pandemic, when untold thousands of marijuana addicts found themselves sinking lower as they rose higher and higher. Other factors contributing to increased use almost certainly include the proliferation of measures legalizing marijuana across the country and the widely sanctioned use of medical marijuana.

There is no concrete data to verify that theory, but there is little doubt that marijuana is no longer taboo in the United States. The National Center for Drug Abuse Statistics (NCDAS) reports that 55 million Americans (16.9 percent of the population) use marijuana in some form, from smoking joints, bongs, and old-school pipes to ingesting edibles. or vape. Perhaps surprisingly, those users far outnumber the 36.5 million Americans who smoke tobacco, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC).

The NCDAS also reports that public approval of medical marijuana (legal in 36 states) has significantly reduced the stigma once attached to the drug. In fact, 56 percent of Americans now consider marijuana “socially acceptable,” while a much larger portion of the population believes it is less of a health threat than tobacco (76 percent), alcohol (72 percent) and prescription medications (67 percent).

Judging by MA’s growth since the pandemic, more users than ever are staring at that hole in the soul. The good news is that their bid for recovery has been helped by an unexpected silver lining in the age of COVID: the ability to attend Zoom meetings instead of traditional in-person meetings in church halls, community and other various facilities that can be as basic as a trailer.

“We don’t demonize marijuana or addiction,” says Lindsay, 29, who works for a nonprofit agency in the San Francisco Bay area and began her recovery 5 years ago. “I came from a home with alcoholism and family dysfunction, and marijuana was one of the many tools that helped me survive. I considered him a friend. But it was a coping mechanism that no longer worked as I became an adult.

“My life has only gotten better because now I have much more clarity,” he adds. “I’m not in a literal or metaphorical haze or fog.”

As MA guides its users toward recovery, one of its most pressing challenges is dispelling the persistent perception that marijuana is not addictive. Stories abound of users who identify as marijuana addicts at NA meetings and are met with rolling eyes.

“A lot of people I know have been laughed at,” says Anne-Katherine, 56, a mental health worker in Los Angeles who joined MA more than five years ago. “Maybe it wasn’t meant to be so cruel, but it’s like, ‘Look, I’m high on heroin and meth. I wish I was addicted to marijuana. That sounds like child’s play.’”

Far from there. The CDC estimates that 3 in 10 cannabis users have a marijuana use disorder, and the risk of developing mental dependence increases significantly for anyone who begins using before age 18.

“Long-term or frequent” use has also been linked to an increased risk of psychosis, hallucinations, and schizophrenia in some users, as well as serious physical illness. “You might want to Google ‘Cannabinoid hyperemesis syndrome,’” Anne-Katherine suggests. “That’s when the receptors in your intestinal lining become so saturated with cannabinoids” (the various chemical compounds in marijuana, including THC, the main source of marijuana’s infamous high) “that you can’t stop vomiting. It has become such a topic that there is a master’s meeting dedicated to it.”

No marijuana-related topic is off limits in MA. Longtime members swear that the support they have received meeting after meeting has been the solid foundation for their sobriety.

“It’s a group of people who totally understand you,” says Robin*, 56, a behavior coach who started smoking marijuana when she was 12 and didn’t stop until she joined MA 9 years ago. “She had lived for decades with this addiction for which she had no idea there was a solution. The moment I found MA, it was a spiritual experience. “I just knew I belonged there.”

“When I go to an MA meeting, I’m home,” agrees Kate*, 47, a real estate agent who founded MA after years of attending AA meetings. “It is the most precious part of my life. Without him, I would have nothing.”

Julia, the college graduate whose marijuana use landed her in lockdown long before COVID, is now 23 years old. She moved south last fall after her mother passed away, started a new job in retail, and continues to attend four or five master’s meetings on Zoom each week. She hasn’t touched a pen since October 2020.

“My year or so of sobriety hasn’t been the easiest year of my life, but I’m doing great,” he says. “I have a much larger support system. “I’m living my life in a more present and full way, and I’m a much, much better person to be friends with now than I was before.”

In fact, Julia has no doubt that her moment of enlightenment, equating the isolation of the pandemic with her self-imposed solitary confinement with a vaporizer, was the crucial turning point that repressed her desire to get high and pushed her toward MA, a clear head and a better life.

“Acknowledging the reality of my addiction was a very internal thing, you know?” she says. “I know how my butt felt and I know I never want to feel that way again.”

*Some names have been changed to ensure anonymity.

For more information about Marijuana Anonymous, including an updated list of meetings around the world and links to brochures and literature detailing the program, visit marijuana-anonymous.org or call (800) 766-6779.