In the last week I under went a kind of experiment (for lack of a better word) with my medication and my cannabis use. My Psychiatrist and I had discussed my cannabis use, and she wanted me to take a month off of my ‘Mary Jane medication’ to see how my other medications and body would act together.
>I am on a mission to get myself better. I want to fight for this life now. I was up to try this month without my cannabis medication, I was hesitant, but willing to try. I didn’t start smoking cannabis daily till just over two years ago. I also thought this would be a good tolerance break. I am also undergoing Bi-Weekly consoling for my depression, anxiety, and PTSD, so I also have someone to talk to about what I was experiencing.
>So on the 12th of October I started my “MaryJane free” Month. Both Friday and Saturday came and went by just fine emotionally. I did notice a change in my appetite. On Saturday I wasn’t hunger at all, and Sunday I had felt nauseous most of the day. I ate healthy throughout the weekend; my diet includes only planted based food sources ( Fruits, Vegetable, Grains, Beans). I cut out Meat/Protein section out of my diet (including pork, poultry, beef, eggs, and diary) almost two years ago.
> Sunday I noticed a change in my attitude. I withdrew from my world around me and I felt worthless, hopeless, and all alone. I felt truly worthless, and I felt that feeling down to my core. I felt like everything I had every tried in life made me a failure. I was where I was at mentally, physically, and spiritually because I had fail so much at every aspect in life. I’m talking some real self-loathing shit. Sunday was one big pity party, I left not feeling one ounce of sorrow for myself. I hated myself. I tried to get out a do some exercise with my dogs, which only exhausted me. I spent much of my Sunday afternoon and night sleeping. Every tasks sounds like too much work, even showering.
>Monday morning was a different story. I woke up in the morning very nauseous and I had no appetite. I ate an apple with peanut butter toast so I could take my ‘Pills’. Monday was also quite a turn for my anxiety. Monday afternoon I had my first bad panic attack, which resulted in me passing out. I had already come to the conclusion most of you have probably found yourself at, but I was persistent to make it at least a week ‘Mary-jane’ free, so I pushed passed my urge to smoke Monday night.
>Tuesday morning was similar to Monday. I woke up in the morning with intense nausea, and had a panic attack which resulted in vomiting up stomach bile. Tuesday, mentally, I was in quite a dark place from the moment I woke up. Deep, Dark, Dank rooms in my brain that I will only torture myself in. Sunday night I had wildly vivid dreams that left me awake with a racing heart, and cold sweats. I can’t quite understand the horrible dreams my brain can compose, or why I am subjected to them? But they leave my mind and imagination reeling with imagines I wish I had never seen. I couldn’t seem to shake the images from my head, and all day Tuesday I dwelled on things that happened in a dream, and in my past. I regretted so much of my past with people that are no longer apart of my life. Regret is a tricky emotion to live with, because it was never meant to keep us alive. Regret does a really good job at tearing us down. Tuesday I receded completely into myself. I had snapped at my mother and boyfriend, and I told them to “just leave me alone”. A phrase that came straight from my depression mouth. I just wanted to be left alone with my self-loathing, my demons, and disruptive thoughts.
>We all know this isn’t the right path to take, but sometimes it becomes almost second nature to fall back into the horrible thoughts of I think of myself. They have always been there; never leaving me. Tuesday night I had a panic attack in my kitchen trying to decided what to eat. Nothing looked good to me and the pressure of picking a meal became too overwhelming for me to bear. I collapsed in the kitchen with my mom at home to witness my panic attack. She begged me to call my doctor first thing in the morning. I promised her I would.
> Wednesday morning I woke up so nauseous that I could hardly lift my head from the pillow. The task of calling my doctors felt like a mountainous task, and it that took all my energy Wednesday morning to do so. All three of my doctors were either out of the office or busy. This sent me into a manic state, and I was unable to keep control of my thoughts, emotions, or breathing. I had another panic attack Wednesday morning and it resulted me vomiting. I had a nurse return my phone call, only to have me reiterate my conditions, medication, and what has/hasn’t worked for me. She offered You-tubing breathing exercises for me. I understand she just trying to help me, but at the time this was not helping me. My Panic attacks can last up to an hour and leave me exhausted and wiped of all energy. I spent all of my Wednesday locked away in my room sleeping because it was the only release from the horrible ache of self loathing, nauseous, and panic attacks I was experiencing.
>Thursday morning I woke up to another bout of nausea, and by this point I was very weak. I had only ate toast and apple sauce in three days, and I was becoming lightheaded and dizzy all the time. My mother begged me to just smoke some weed and at this point I was more than willing to. My nausea was so bad that I wanted any kind of relief I could get. Thursday afternoon I went and picked up a beautiful gram of OG Kush concentrate, and came home to almost immediate relief. The tension that felt like a vice grip in my chest all week had greatly lifted. It literally was the source of where my panic attacks would radiate from. My nausea was quell to a dull pain. I made it through Thursday night with no panic attacks, night sweats, or nightmares.
>Today Friday the 20th, and this morning I smoked a nice fat dab, made a big bowl of oatmeal, raisins, and an apple, and set to work. My story is an ongoing story that needs to be written. I am still here battling daily with my depression, anxiety, and PTSD. But I am still here fighting. My suicidal thoughts had come back in less than a week. I learned what a little pills can do to my mind. I learned that my mind can quickly turn on me, and I need to be more ready to fight back for my life. I learned that two steps backwards doesn’t always mean it’s a set back. It can be a learning opportunity. The biggest lesson I learned in all of this is; Mary-Jane is my number one medication now.