Story provided with permission by my LinkedIn Network.
I never wanted to be a "Stoner."
I never wanted to be thought of as an addled, lazy, unproductive "member" of society. I was TOO GOOD to be associated with an activity that got people thrown in jail, relieved of their money and property, and made fun of by "Decent" people. "Stoners" were bad, and somehow, they were responsible for so many woes that to even talk to one meant courting bad luck. Then midnight 1999 came along, and I succumbed to the mystery by taking my first "Toke" from an authentic looking peace pipe offered by one of the kindest souls I ever met. Y2K was on a lot of people's mind, including mine, and the end of the world scenarios somehow seemed more realistic than the possibility of Federal incarceration for the most innocuous acts of smoking a dried herb. I suppose it's cliche to admit that after that "Toke," everything changed... sort of.
Two things went through my mind the rest of the evening after being introduced to the infamous "High" brought about by smoking a "Bowl" of what my initiator described as "Ontario KGB" (Kind Green Bud); she was from Canada and brought it with her for a work related event. The very first idea that got stuck in my head was WHY does everyone make such a big deal out of this? The second, HOW in the F$%K is this an illicit act? Then I fell asleep, and probably had one of the best night sleeps in a long time. The next day came, the world's computers were not crashing. There was no mass panic in the streets or breakdowns in society. There was also no immediate consequence to my "Illicit substance abuse" from the night before. I felt fine. Life went on...
Get a life.
For the next decade I only partook of the "Herb" a few more times, three or four to be exact. Always in the company of other "Stoners" but never to excess and never as a direct treatment for what ailed me. They were quintessentially "Recreational" experiences. But I did put away my self imposed stigmas towards other users, the "Stoners" if you will. I found the act of consuming Cannabis to be rather passive and peaceful. Unlike the many nights spent in sports bars under the influence of liquor, I never saw a bad "Recreational" binge. I never broke up a cannabis infused brawl or saw violence of any kind like the sorts of things that were commonplace inside the Legal and Lawful taverns and pubs I frequented for 20 years. To me, cannabis seemed very SAFE, in comparison to my direct witnessing of nearly every other imaginable form of "Drug Use." It was the Casper Milquetoast of all the Drugs I was familiar with.
I wandered the world for ten years Suffering. Suffering from what some have called Bi-Polar Manic Depression. I changed jobs and partners often. I spent money and time looking for treatment. I was miserable. But I always had an assortment of options from 12 packs to Cigarettes; from Lexapro to Straterra, from therapists to week long bouts of suicidal tendencies. I did everything else but return to the one thing that I had never known to harm anyone. I was getting a Life, and I didn't want the "Reefer" to interfere with that, so I continued the struggle.
By 2010, after a nervous breakdown, bankruptcy and intervention, none of which I was new to, I had decided that to "get a life" I had to enroll in a technical college. The only thing I "Smoked" in school was cigarettes and the tests, by graduating with two degrees and Honors. But my obnoxious attitude towards "Stoners" had returned by then when many of my fellow students failed to get placement jobs due to failing the Drug Screening. I saw this as justice in my own sick way. I say sick because I was also aware by this time in 2012, that there was an 800 pound gorilla in the room with me. I was in my late thirties and could sense that something was seriously wrong with me. Not wrong from the depression, but wrong in away that terrified me to look deeper. You know, the kind of feeling that suggests that if you go to a doctor, you'd probably hear about something very bad. So I avoided the doctors altogether. Better to be caught by surprise by whatever was going wrong than to eliminate all doubt and find out you're dying.
The Cult of Ignorance.
In 2013 I was living the dream. I had landed work as a research scientist in a privately funded lad which I had helped get started and financing for. I was solving mysteries without any clue, working on the night moves; props to Bob Segar. I was delving into awesomely astounding science and research that should have satisfied every fiber of my being, but alas, I was still suffering and it was worse than ever. Appropriately, I was also relaxing my intolerance to "Stoners" once again. Half of the dozen or so fellow scientists were regular users of cannabis, and if it somehow made them dumber, it didn't show up easily to spot. Through my time working closely with my cannabist coworkers I literally digested a PhD's worth of information on the subject of cannabis. I also became intimately aware of something so vile, so corrupting, it made the terror of my health issue take a back seat for once. It was clear to me by this time in my life, that everything I had come to believe about cannabis, about prohibition and about the so called "Illicit Use" of a "Controlled Substance," was an egregious GOD DAMNED LIE!
Isaac Asimov is well quoted regarding a "Cult of Ignorance" in this country. It's fitting to bring Isaac's quote up here because I was myself a glorified writer of Scientific Fiction during my day job at the lab. I spent a great deal of time reading and writing about projects or processes that we could work on and predicted or hypothesized on the results. It was scientific fiction until it wasn't. It was great work and I miss it terribly, but my Fate alarm was ringing from an ignored health issue which meant that I had to clear the "Cult of Ignorance" from my own head if I were going to escape my gloom. Cannabis taught me how to do this, to my own, obnoxious dismay.
A close friend, co-worker, fellow scientist and "Stoner" had become my roommate near the office. Regular cannabis use became the norm for me as I discovered I could use it not "Recreationally" so much as "Therapeutically." My whole lifestyle changed at this point as my bouts with alcohol dropped significantly, as did my cigarette use. I was not using any form of pharmaceutical and came to a conclusion that they never helped me in the first place. I was finding that regular to semi regular cannabis use was making things in general, better. Much, MUCH better in fact. But at the same time, independent research into prohibition and the lack of science to support a drug war was making me very uneasy. If the solution to MY issues was this simple plant, and it had been banned for 80+ years, then what if someone who really needed it couldn't get access to it? What would it mean for a Trillion dollar health sector if there were much better options available? What if, and THIS is the real kicker, every cliche conspiracy story I had heard from "Stoners" about prohibition, was in fact true?
Oh, my, gawd... The "Stoners" were right all along! IT REALLY IS MEDICINE!
Hold still, this might hurt a bit.
November 2012, amendment 64 had passed in Colorado, leading the way to an experiment in State's rights and decriminalized cannabis use. I was a closeted "Stoner" by 2013 and in another year, we were going to see the nations's first Legal and Lawful dispensary open for business and sell to their first adult customer. This was all so historic. As 2014 was closing in, everything in my life began a sure and steady decent into madness one again. Cannabis had opened me up to some interesting possibilities I had never considered before such as Yoga and alternative healers. Between these options, the buried health issue that I had avoided for so long began to creep, ever so slightly into my life once again.
I had a revealing moment in 2013 that was so similar to a movie I saw in the 90's that it's unsettling to me. The similarities are exacting in almost every detail except one important difference, the order of events. The movie was called Jacob's Ladder, and is only relevant because in one scene, the protagonist is having his back adjusted by a chiropractor who is quoting Meister Eckhart. In my situation, instead of seeing a practitioner to correct my back, I went in to see a Healer who BROKE ME instead. I'll save the details as they are too much to bring up again. In short, the movie depicts the protagonist in Hellish pain, and his chiropractor setting him straight; in my story I went to a Healer feeling straight, and was sent to Hell...
Instead of seeing a Chiropractor, I went to a well respected and wonderful Kundalini Practitioner. I had been studying the arcane art of Kundalini and worked at an introductory level in Yoga and Pranayama. I was flipping the bird, so to speak, to the universe when I compelled this practitioner to really "Open me up!" I told her that Hell would be a better option than what I was going through. I wanted a severe change, I told her, and I was willing to pay the price... or so I thought. What happened that day forever changed me in ways I would NEVER wish upon another human being...
Cannabis is Chronic.
"My Big Brother used to describe to his friends how I was one "Lab
Accident" away from becoming some sort of Mad Super Villain. Well,
that "accident" happened to me somewhere back in January of 2014; a
radical experiment of Fusion Energy research and Kundalini Science
took place... Mistakes would be made..."
This quote is lifted directly from my profile summary and is very much NOT an exaggeration. For anyone unfamiliar with either Kundalini or Fusion, I will not go into details here. For me, they are one and the same on many levels, but for the sake of this story, what is important to convey, is that I F$%Ked up and in a big way. I was undergoing a process that I could only describe at that point in my life as walking a thousand miles in Hell. The lousy part is, it took more than 2000 miles. My intelligence was a handicap at this stage and I was a slow learner now.
Since January of 2014, I became a Cannabis Proponent for two reasons. One, it was legal; in my State at least. Two, I now had the equivalent of Biblical level, CHRONIC and unrelenting pain as a constant, everyday companion. I had left my job, alienated my friends, upset my family and was walking the streets as a full fledged, stereotypical, raving lunatic. It was actually pretty neat. It was Psychosis, but it was neat. Who else but a few explorers and neurologists would get to witness their brain dying from the inside out? I never thought I would, but this is exactly what it was like dealing with "Something" that would have gotten me locked away had I taken my condition to a professional for a diagnosis. At least, this is what the voices inside my head were telling me at this point.
Cannabis, at least in my informed opinion, became the safest and most effective way to "self-medicate" for a problem I didn't know how to describe. In fact, at one point in late 2014, I had an internal sound, a SNAP if you will, happen to me accompanied by my passing out into a puddle of my own piss and sweat. I woke hours later only to crawl to a couch where I stayed for three days. Had I not had cannabis on hand, I likely would have found a way to slit the femoral artery and bleed out for mercy. Yes, it was that bad, and there were several such instances over the years that witnesses can attest to. My pain and my health issues were very much real and very uncommon. Cannabis provided what can only be describe as Remedy. The Stoners were still right all along... It really is Medicine.
I'm getting better, and I'm not asking for permission.
This article is not an instructional, nor an information piece stating science data and filled with charts. It is also not an opinion editorial. I do not write for a specific audience in order to sway or come off as an expert. This article is Catharsis; it's an expose on one of life's truest of truisms. Life is Pain.
Prior to my exposure to cannabis and even after using it for some years, I never quite understood myself. I had some knowledge, but no real understanding of things to the degree that I felt satisfied. Happiness was a fantasy. Pain became a teacher. An incredible teacher. Pain was actually what I was seeking, or perhaps Pain was seeking me. Either way, I found it and it had stories and lessons to teach, whether I wanted to hear it or not. Throughout this journey, I came to rely on a simple plant to provide the necessary balance between the lessons and the madness that came from it.
Cannabis is without a doubt an incredibly safe and effective treatment for many things. The stigma that surrounds it is based on a CULT. A Cult of Ignorance. A Cult of Stupidity. A Cult of SHAME. And since this is catharsis, let me be FRANK in what I wish to say to close out this story. Now that Colorado is coming up on three successful years in legal Cannabis activity, and in the shadow of this election cycle, there is more than enough "evidence" for a change of course. There is a storm approaching; a storm so big that it will rewrite history on the face of this planet. A WRONG is being corrected. A wrong so evil that it's changed my very DNA.
I'm not in Pain anymore, at least not to the level I once had, and I'm getting better. If I have learned anything from this experience it's that Pain is mandatory, but the suffering...
The Suffering is optional. Thank you Cannabis!