thelesbianlifestyle.com

One of  The Lesbian Lifestyle‘s monthly topics is “taboo”, so in the spirit of things, I shall oblige the masses with a thingy.

Thingy. [NSFW]

What are your first thoughts when you see it? Get a sheet of paper and write down all of the words, thoughts, and images that you associate when you see it. Go ahead, I’ll wait………….doo dee doo…………things…….la dee daaaa…….okay.

Now take all of these things and ask yourself why you think them. I think most people will find that they think negatively about it because they were conditioned to think negatively about it. Either that, or there was a not-so-good party at some chick’s house and things ended up not going so well for you, or something. Maybe you honestly just don’t like it, and that’s perfectly fine.

But for one moment, I ask that if you compiled a list of negative-sounding stuff that you’ve come to associate with marijuana, set it aside. Fold it up, put it away. Don’t look at it. Don’t think about it. Forget what you’ve learned and what you’ve been taught, and leave your mind blank. Allow me to offer you my side of the story.

—[this is my side.]

MARIJUANA. It’s the devil’s weed! It rots your brain. It makes you incoherent. It’s unhealthy. It gives you lung cancer. It’ll make you completely useless to society. It will bla bla bla bla sound familiar? Yeah, I bet it does. The stigma attached to cannabis is remarkably volatile for something so harmless and so helpful. You have to wonder why people say what they do about it.

Because the history of the plant itself is long and intricate, I’ll save some time here and post the link to my favorite documentary:

The Union: The Business Behind Getting High

The very beginning of the documentary explores the cultural history of the cannabis plant, following its legality and then to the bigotry leading to its illegality. Please don’t take the documentary’s word for it. Research for yourself.

Captain Obvious Sez:
Marijuana is a pretty popular plant. If you visit NORML’s Wikipedia page you’ll find a list of its associates and advisors–a Nobel Laureate, a distinguished doctor from Harvard (with the greatest last name ever), Willie Nelson (naturally), Bill Maher for crying out loud, and as always, the late, great Hunter S. Thompson. Serious mountain-movers in the name of pot. Not that that necessarily means anything, but for some it’s a gesture of comfort to know that a fucking Nobel Laureate for goddamn Chemistry is for the reform of mary jane. I for one am quite smug about that.

I’ve provided you with about…eh…two hours worth of information. That entire documentary picks through common misconceptions and then proves each of them as false–including the “brain damage” case, which is a famously touted quote about a science project in which scientists, using monkeys, tried to demonstrate the long-term effects of cannabis. They concluded that cannabis killed brain cells; but what the experiment lacked to notify the public about was that they basically suffocated their monkeys–they used gas masks filled with THC (tetrahydrocannabinol) and denied them normal oxygen flow, thus suffocating them and in essence causing brain cells to die, hence the “marijuana kills brain cells” myth. If I can find a link to the experiment’s details, I will edit this entry with it for your convenience. For now, here is NORML’s information page.

My story comes in the form of bipolar disorder, which I inherited. I don’t mind what others call my “disorder” so much anymore. Rather I think of it as a “creative difference”. I have to or else I’ll get ridiculously depressed about it and then someone will find me at Wal-Mart at three AM in the morning making a trail of orange juice leading to the restrooms. And I hate to put the Wal-Mart night stockers at a disadvantage, so for the sake of saving someone the time of cleaning up someone’s very citrus-y pee, we’ll call it that. Creative difference.

Basically, it means that I have the following difficulties:

1. I have mood swings that jump from euphoric to suicidal in the space of about 5 minutes, sometimes sooner.
2. Without my prescribed medication, suicide is an option pretty much every day of the week.
3. I developed a stutter during my college years which shows up when I’m off my meds.
4. I have frequent anxiety attacks–frequent, as in, once or twice a day.
5. I’m basically the world’s Mega-Bitch.
6. My body locks up when my anxiety levels increase. I can’t help it–call it PTS from my darling childhood.
7. Nightmares. I’m not talking about sane nightmares, the kind about…you know, serial killers or falling or finding out your lover is dead. I’m talking about eight year old children wearing masks and roasting pregnant women on a rotisserie, fucking insane nightmares that make you want to rock back and forth in a corner and piss yourself.

At the end of my second year of college, I had a mental breakdown. I could not find the will to live anymore, and I felt as though not a soul was listening to me. I was alone, friendless, and scared to death. I called my grandmother, who lived 3-4 hours away, and the hurt in my voice was enough. 3-4 hours later, she and my aunt were at my apartment, helping me pack a bag. I left college and to this day I refuse to return to that particular university, so horrible was my time there. Long story short, they slapped me into therapy so fast my head spun. And after a few sessions, I finally stopped trying to fight the system, and accepted the help that my wonderful therapist offered me. I was put on medication, which literally saved my life. I began to rebuild my life.

Then, I moved to Kentucky. On the night I arrived, a joint was passed my way. Before this point, I had not touched, smelled, or even seen marijuana in my life. I had lived a sheltered childhood, and I was so clean that I squeaked. “What do I do?” I asked, awed. “Smoke the fucker!” I was told, laughter rising around the table. So I did.

How can I begin to describe how excellent a night’s sleep I had? I had not one nightmare. Not one. The next day, I packed a bowl and smoked to see what the effects were on my day-to-day activities. Naturally, I melted into the couch and stayed there the whole day. As the weeks progressed, though, and I grew used to the feeling, I began to realize that my life was taking a drastic turn.

One morning I woke up and bounced out of bed without my usual “you can do it, you can make it through another day” pep talk. I smoked a bowl and went out into the garden. I worked in the dirt on my hands and knees and coaxed little plants from the ground, played with the cat in the catnip patch and rolled around with the dog. Life was beautiful! Inexplicably lovely in every way. I can’t describe the profound happiness I felt just to be alive. It was amazing.

I smoke pot. That’s okay with me. Others might have a problem with it, but I have only one thing to say: if something makes you feel generally happy and excited to be alive, and it helps calm your wild anxiety attacks and make your thinking clearer, cleaner, and deeper, gives you the ability to relax the tension and wake up in the morning without having to tell yourself that one more day to live can’t hurt much, smoke that shit!

I hope medicinal cannabis laws pass in Kentucky. I really, really do. If so, I’ll become a card-carrying member of the club, bar none. When you’ve lived a life of tension and anxiety, to finally be calm is one of the most amazing experiences you will ever have. My prescription helps kill the stutter and center my thoughts, and the weed helps me focus and eases my tension, kills the nightmares from hell and generally gives an entire purpose to my life. I’m sorry that weed isn’t medically available to everyone.

I’ll add that unfortunately weed doesn’t take away the want to do strange things, like setting all of the egg timers at World Market to go off at five minute intervals. It just makes the urge a little more difficult to ignore.

But I’m certain that setting off egg timers is probably my greatest sin as of yet.