One of my greatest pet peeves in life is deceit.
I hate liars. Mostly those who deceive a whole population on a global scale or a regional scale for the purpose of gaining more green. It bothers me that people are so uncomfortable with being human that they see necessity in pulling wool over the eyes of their own kind.
We know it happens every day. We know anti-aging commercials lie about the fact that collagen in their product doesn’t tighten wrinkles (collagen only works when injected, it can’t be absorbed). We know companies take photographs of someone like Jennifer Lawrence and feels she doesn’t fit their standard of femininity, so they use the shaving tool in Photoshop to take inches off her arms and hips and thighs for her to appear closer to an image of a Victoria Secret model. She knows they do it. Most people I’ve met know they do it. They know they do it.
But we ignore that. Let’s, instead, claim mental disorders are on the rise. Let’s not take into consideration the frame rate of cartoons and the multi-tasking ability of phones we give our nine year old, let’s get mad that our children aren’t learning the math and reading they should while in school (who wants to do homework when there are computers and phones and internet and T.V at home?) and therefore we’ll take away recess and shorten lunch in elementary schools and watch the kids squirm and have outbursts and be disruptive in class. Let’s ignore everything I just said and only pay attention to the kids squirming and being disruptive in class part so we can instead say they have ADHD and include them in our diagnostic statistics and toss some pills at their parents.
ADHD is on the rise with kid’s tablets and nine year olds with Iphones; Recess is on the decline and so is discipline. Correlation, perhaps?
Takes quite a lot of credibility away from those who actually do suffer ADHD.
I missed a post yesterday and there is an important reason. It has got me contemplating more on what we get told and what we believe.
On my previous post I spoke about seeing the positives in negatives and I do that often when I feel a wave of depression making attempts to swallow me. It’s a coping mechanism I’ve developed since starting that blog that sometimes stops me from falling too deep in a hole.
However, it did not come to rescue as I had hoped. My entire body has been aching for weeks because of this. It twisted from a depression into a rage and I felt the need to either punch some more holes in my door or my wall or start a fight with someone. Instead, I ranted in a long post about my twisted relationship with my rage of which many rarely see. I described my rage as the following:
There’s a part of me I haven’t given much attention, the part that sleeps soundly in the darkest, forgotten area of my mind beneath the chains and padlocks I’ve encased him in, the part of me which can wake at the sound of a pin drop, eyes raging, mouth frothing with malicious intention dripping from his glaring incisors now visible because of the vicious baring of his teeth. He’s been with me for as long as I can remember and yet I’ve ignored him the most.
I’ve spent my life building a ruse over him. I’ve spent my life being a perfectionist so at rare moments he could have permission to ravage my mind and control my body. He’s manipulative, domineering, and power hungry, conflicted over his own existence, and comes out most often in characters I’ve created in my writing, unbeknownst to me until I step away and come back months later.
I trashed the post because I struggled over whether or not it was something I wanted on the internet.
I do struggle with anger. A lot of it. More than people see or understand because I am a good liar; I let that beast out only when I’m 100% encased in solitude.
That being said, I could not feel myself calming to a rational level so I broke out my trusty high school friend from back in the day: her name is Mary Jane.
Marijuana. Pot. Weed. Whatever you want to call it.
I’m a very intense person, so when I do things, I do them fully. I spent the evening I posted “The Promiseland” high and the following morning high. I didn’t stop until 7am, when I finally passed out. I spent the majority of today high, as well.
And there’s a lot of controversy over the effects of marijuana. The government doesn’t want you to know the medicinal benefits until they can make a profit from it: hence the legalization of it that’s now wide-spread. Addicts want to lace it with Angel Dust (PCP) and ruin its integrity. Is Mary Jane just another high or is there a point to it?
I do not appreciate people who lie to doctors to get the rights to medical marijuana. I do not appreciate doctors who give two shits about who they’re providing recommendations for.
I have friends with medical marijuana cards for no reason. They’re mentally and physically healthy. They went into a doctor, said they had anxiety or depression, said Marijuana helps, and got a card. That’s an insult, a fucking disgrace to those of us who suffer for real.
I prefer to leave medical marijuana to those suffering from M.S or recovering from chemotherapy and cancer treatments.
Marijuana did take my aches away. It quelled my rage and chased away what little sliver of depression was hiding behind my anger.
Yes, I was a textbook classic “stoner” in high school. I smoked before classes, in between classes, ditched classes to do it, after school, late evening, and before I went to bed. However, since starting college I’d quit. I’ve smoked maybe five times over the last three years, including these last two days.
I don’t blaze my mind away anymore, but I do continue until a decent level of calm washes through me. I woke up yesterday afternoon with more energy than I’ve had in months.
Is this me advocating marijuana recreational use? Not entirely. Is it me bashing it? Certainly not. This is me saying at that particular moment on that particular day, marijuana wasn’t a narcotic to get me high and away from my troubles. It was a plant with properties known to stimulate dopamine and other neurotransmitters, something to give me a little push away from my depression and lack of energy and physical pain and boiling rage.
But as I said, I wasn’t blazing my mind out like I used to. I used very lightly, eloquently even, if I do say so myself, until I felt my brain wasn’t stressed, until the tension melted from my shoulders and I could take a moment to breathe in nothingness.
There are a lot of misconceptions about this plant. They scare you away from it as a child because they’ve labeled it as a “gateway drug”. They do to marijuana what they do with sex education: twist your mind up about how you shouldn’t do it because it’s “bad”, but then never fully explain the positives of being safe.
That’s changed over the years in sex education in most places. Most. Most isn’t good enough.
But there are benefits of proper cannabis usage. If administered twenty minutes into an Ischemic Stroke (read here), it can dramatically reduce the amount of brain damage. There are some strains being studied that may be helpful in treating psychosis in particular people (a counter-attack to the idea that if you smoke Marijuana you’ll become psychotic or develop Schizophrenia). You can read a little about it here.
Those are two of many things I learned in a very informative biological psychology class I took a year back.
Moderation and proper usage is everything in life.
Will I be doing more today? No. Not until I have a bubbling rage and depression attack as I had the other day. That could be weeks, months . . . another year, perhaps.
Will smoking help your active psychosis? Probably not and for God’s sake do not try it just because you read this. Will smoking prevent you from having a stroke? No one could know that.
Is smoking marijuana because your friends do it a proper usage of a highly medicinal plant? No. Is smoking marijuana as a way to escape your life day after day, night after night, a proper usage? NO. Is getting high because it’s “fun” proper usage? Not in my opinion.
People used to live with the land and off the land rather than on the land, and this plant is one of many humans have used for countless numbers of years in countless numbers of ways to help heal their ailments. If I were Marijuana, I’d be offended that they group me into the class of “illegal drug” next to something people made from Sudafed Tablets, fucking battery acid and drain cleaner.
You’ll never catch me doing Meth to help with my mental health or physical health.
I’d like to walk into a doctor’s office and say “doc, I have low energy and high depression; Meth usually helps. Can I get a medical meth card, please?”