From Wine to Weed: Trading One Escape for Another?
- karenmrubinstein
- Jul 13
- 5 min read
How we’ve normalized addiction by rebranding it as wellness.
"You're a perfect candidate for medical marijuana," the therapist said to me, nodding sympathetically after I described my chronic anxiety, PTSD, sleep disorders, and clinical depression on a visit to his office several years ago.
What he chose to ignore was that I was also morbidly obese and visibly unwell.
And what he didn’t ask—was whether I was self-medicating.
I was. I was drinking nearly a half-gallon of vodka a day.
One problem was right there in front of him: a body in distress.
The other was hidden—a liquid escape hatch I used to silence my pain.
Looking back on that day, I remember feeling elated to be able to legally score some pot. But now with sober eyes I realize something chilling:
We live in a world where we diagnose the pain, but prescribe the escape.
A prescription for marijuana—medical, no less—for an alcoholic in active addiction?
That’s not healing. That’s lighting the match from the other side.
A Society of Quick Fixes
Let’s be honest—we are drenched in quick fixes.
Feeling stressed? Have a glass of chardonnay.
Feeling wired? Smoke some weed.
Feeling anxious? Pop a gummy or scroll your phone until it passes.
We used to joke about “mother’s little helper” (Valium), and now we have “Wine Down Wednesday” as a punchline in every inbox.
Addiction’s been rebranded as lifestyle—packaged in pretty bottles and Instagrammable quotes.
We Used to See It for What It Was
Watch an old rerun of The Andy Griffith Show.
Picture Aunt Bea sitting around the kitchen table midday with wine glasses clinking.
Hard to imagine, right?
Now picture Barney and Andy strumming guitars on the front porch… passing a joint.
Not exactly Mayberry.
Back then, the only person who drank openly on that show was Otis—the town drunk.
And even then, he was the joke. The oddity. The shame.
We saw it clearly: this was a man who’d lost control.
Today? Otis is everywhere. Only now he’s in yoga pants with a travel mug of rosé… or hitting a THC vape while picking up groceries.
And it’s not funny anymore.
The Women’s Luncheon
I recently spoke about alcoholism on a mental health panel for a local women’s business luncheon. It was a warm, welcoming room—successful women, smart women, women who clearly cared about emotional well-being. I spoke for maybe fifteen minutes, just sharing part of my story. Then came the questions.
We ended up going way over time, because once the questions started, they didn’t stop.
Most were thoughtful and sincere. One in particular stuck with me.
A woman furrowed her brow and asked, “But you can still have gummies, right?”
I smiled, but inside, I thought… Would you ask me if I could still shoot up heroin?
No malice. No judgment. Just an honest reflection of how far we've slipped into normalizing numbing—as long as it’s in a cute wrapper.
It reminded me: this is why I recover loudly. Because addiction no longer looks like the town drunk sleeping it off in a cell. It looks like the PTA mom with wine in her water bottle. The overachiever with edibles in her purse. The woman who gets praised for "handling everything" while secretly falling apart.
We've Normalized Escape
When I got back from rehab, I remember sitting on the couch watching TV with my husband.He turned to me and said, “Every ad… every show… it’s all about drinking.”
He was right.
It’s not just accepted now—it’s expected.
We’ve built an entire culture around socially acceptable numbing.
Last week I wrote that alcohol isn’t really the problem—it’s the pain beneath it. The fear. The chronic anxiety that’s crippling our society.
And now that alcohol’s taken a hit in the wellness space, marijuana is stepping in to take her place.
Weed shops line every street in Manhattan.Gummies are sold as self-care.
Stress is now a marketing trigger for sedation.
We've Just Switched Costumes
Somewhere along the way, the very things we used to recognize as red flags have been repackaged as self-care.
Wine became wellness. Weed became medicine. Escape became empowerment—so long as it looked cute on a mug or a meme.
We stopped asking why we use something and started asking which brand to buy.
And here’s the truth no one wants to say out loud: Most people don’t get sober anymore. They just switch seats on the Titanic.
They trade wine for weed. Weed for shopping. Shopping for scrolling. And on the surface, it looks like they’re doing better. But underneath, they’re still running.
The California Sober Illusion
In 12-step recovery, we have a term for people who still smoke pot or use THC products: "California sober." It’s usually said with a smirk—because most of us know what it means:
still using, just in a new costume.
Only recently have I seen people in my recovery circle who were “California sober” quietly return to meetings and start counting days again. (Because that’s the standard: when you relapse, you start from Day One.) For months—sometimes years—they had convinced themselves it was fine, because it wasn’t alcohol. It was just pot. Just a gummy. Just a hit.
But whether you drank wine or took a gummy, if it altered your mind or your mood—you’re not sober. Period.
Gummies, tinctures, vapes, flower, oils—whatever the form, it’s the same thing. If it changes your brain chemistry, it’s a substance. If it numbs you or lifts you out of yourself, it’s not recovery.
I once made my own tincture (tinc·ture/noun 1. a medicine made by dissolving a drug in alcohol.) The recipe called for grain alcohol as a base. I remember thinking: it's herbal. It's healing.
But eventually, I just drank the grain alcohol straight from the bottle.
That’s how addiction works—it doesn’t care about the label. It just wants the effect..
Freedom Isn’t in the Trade—It’s in the Truth
I’m not here to shame anyone who uses marijuana.
I’m here to say that if you’re depending on it to sleep, to relax, to feel okay in your own skin—it deserves your attention.
Because the real issue was never the wine. It was never the vodka. It was the pain beneath it.
The restlessness. The fear. The shame. The stories we tell ourselves just to get through the day.
That’s what needs healing.
Experts in addiction recovery have long pointed out that it’s not the substance that defines addiction—it’s the need to escape.
Carl Jung put it simply:
Emotional Sobriety Is the Real Goal
I’ve said it before, and I’ll keep saying it: Quitting drinking isn’t the end. It’s the beginning.
Recovery isn’t just about abstaining—it’s about rebuilding your relationship with yourself. It’s about learning to sit with hard emotions without numbing. It’s about choosing presence over escape, connection over coping.
It’s not easy. But it’s worth it. Because there is so much more on the other side of needing something to take the edge off.
If This Hits Close to Home…
You’re not alone. And you’re not broken. You’re just tired of patching bullet holes with band-aids.
You don’t need to hit rock bottom to make a change. You just need to tell the truth.
And if you’re willing to be honest about why you’re reaching for the glass, the gummy, or the vape… Then you’ve already taken the first step toward freedom.
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It begins with truth.
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