It’s been a few weeks since my “package” arrived. All wrapped up like an evidence bag, furthering my irritation at the stigma attached to medical marijuana, yet satisfying my need to have some anonymity. Ironic, isn’t it?
I have been waiting for this moment for MONTHS. Application snafu’s, time to process, yadda yadda….and now that it’s here?
Frustrated as fuck.
So many reasons. Grab a cuppa and let me tell you all about it.
- I now have marijuana in my house. I cannot even BEGIN to articulate the psychological issues I’m having with it being in my house, due to my tween-lings and running a daycare. Oh, it’s well stored, I can sure as shit tell you that (but there’s more on THAT later…) No, I have residual trauma of my eldest son’s addiction. I know this, because I started crying the first time I tried to figure out where the hell to even START. Grinder? Vapourizer? What the hell? Dude, I’ve got two remaining brain cells and if it doesn’t come in a one-syllable instruction, it’s not happening.
- I love my counsellor. I do. But…come ON. If you don’t know how to read your booklet (and I’ve read my damn booklet)…you’re going to need some assistance. o.O I ended up getting a lesson from the very son I’d removed from my home so many years ago. He was patient and I was a sobbing mess of emotions. They don’t prepare you for that shit in the goddamn booklet.
- My green is stored well. I know you can make edibles (you should check out: Medical Edibles), my licenced producer offers oil…I’m a CHARTERED HERBALIST…I get this. I do. I swear. But having to go hunt it down without wanting to be seen or, admittedly, not wanting to get up and haul my ass up the stairs to my room…I’m not using it as I’m directed.
- I’m also not using it as directed because:
- Sweet mother of all things holy, Batman! I was told it was a trial & error with respect to dosing (start slow, add more after)…but #$%#%@$ I need pain relief NOW. *eyes pills longingly*
- This shit is so expensive, I can’t fucking afford my actual, full month, prescription. I’ll make it work. I always make shit work. But, I can tell you the resentment is building faster than the residue on my grinder I also have had to learn that you have to clean frequently.
The cost is ridiculous. The only reason I’m vapourizing dried herb is because the oil? Yeah, almost twice as $$ as the dried. I’m going to have to get the oil for the summer time when I have a full-time house full of younglings. Fuckernackles, peeps. It shouldn’t cost more than illegal shit, y’know? Yes, I understand it’s strictly grown to possess the specific qualities of the compounds and is eleventy-billion percent safer…but…jeezuz.
My options are:
Strain A, dried: $11/gram
Strain B, dried: $7/gram
So, I’m not using it as directed because I’m literally hoarding my first shipment like a motherfucking dragon. Little pissed off at myself. Not gonna lie.
The point of this particular post is that as much as I appreciate the legal process, I’m not entirely certain there’s a sub-level of emotional context for people. Do I tell my kids or not? Do I tell my own parents or not? Do I tell ANYONE or do I live under the radar with a perfectly legal and very effective form of pain management that is keeping me from those deep, dark brain demons?
The stigma HAS TO CHANGE. It has to. So this is why I share my personal emotions about medical marijuana so that others may be inclined to understand better an outlet of pain management that may actually be saving the life of someone you love…because not everyone makes it through this kind of pain alive.
Let that one sink in for a little bit.
So here’s something I need you to take away from this, if you are going down this path of medical marijuana: You need to find others using it and you need to explore options. Edibles. Oils. Vapourizers. Tinctures. You do NOT have to smoke it in a joint. End that stigma shit RIGHT there for the people who still have it: it’s NOT about getting “high” and it’s not always a mo’fo’ joint.
I’ve been an advocate of medical marijuana for years, even through my son’s debilitating addiction. That being said, I admit I was psychologically unprepared for the onslaught of emotions I didn’t realize still linger within the neural networks of my memories.
Now, three weeks later, I have FINALLY gotten the hang of the vapourizer, at what temperature and how to draw in an inhale (seriously, you need to actually learn how to do this shit). My kids have seen it (the vapourizer) and I’ve explained that it’s a stinky medicine that I can inhale but not have to smoke like a cigarette. I still can’t bring myself to tell them it’s actually marijuana. My elder two boys know everything. I am terrified they will try to find my “stash.” This, I recognize, is a residual emotional trauma.
I literally need a therapist to help me through the use of medical marijuana.
What the actual…..?!?!? Yup. So, I do. I am desperate for pain relief and recognize that this is, like pretty much life itself, is a process, and the more I use it, the more I practice differing ways of using it, the more comfortable I will become and I can normalize it within my pain management routine.
I never thought this would be such a stressful part of my healthcare journey…wandering through the abyss of “Omg, the pain relief!” from the “You got any?” of my twenty-something self.
In the meantime, slow & steady. Emphasis on the “steady” part because it’s a journey that is still a long, long way from becoming normalized, not just legalized.