Last Sunday my brother, sister-in-law, her sister and I went to a Lynyrd Skynyrd/Bad Co. concert in Virginia. I had seen LS last year and enjoyed it. So, when my brother announced he had bought us all tickets I forced myself to be upbeat, interested and go along for the ride. In the end, I had a good time. Scott and I started early by drinking shots of dark, spiced rum and smoking pot. When we got to the outdoor arena, he and I snuck off to hide between two parked and empty pickup trucks and cautiously each took a couple more hits. By the time they opened the gates, he was holding onto me and telling me “don’t let go of me, don’t let go of me”. So, together we sort of glided into the seating area. It was hot as fuck, so all that touching and body contact did not go over great. I don’t especially dislike touching but not when i am HOT and sweaty and fucked up. Anyway, we almost made it to our seats when he let go of my arm, started leaning to his right, then listing to the right, then falling onto a table of event staff who, quite rightly, jumped up with exclamations of “WTF?!” Somehow I managed to get him up and moving before they could decide to throw us both out. We got a couple of cold beers (yes, I know) and found our seats.
I wasn’t overly interested in Bad Co. because I didn’t think I knew many of their songs. I’ve never bought any CDs or albums. But when they started playing, I found myself singing along and saying “I didn’t know this was a Bad Co. tune.”
Lynyrd Skynyrd was good, everyone was singing and dancing. Scott and I snuck off for some fried Oreos, people gazing – with accompanying caustic comments- and more cold beer. In the end, we made it home, ate some Chinese food and crashed on our air mattresses.
Another important reason for brothers’ visit was to bring me more, better pot. I had recently bought some, but it turned out to be low in THC and I found that I was having difficulty managing my “symptoms”. My shrink has asked me a couple of times – “what does pot do for you?”.
Sometimes I just like getting really stoned and floating away. Sometimes it helps me to finally fall asleep. When Wolf is really loud or persistent or my head is moving too fast it helps to shut him up and slow my thoughts. A modest dose lessens my anxiety and can improve my mood from shitty to not so bad. My therapist recently, abstractedly suggested I consider growing my own to ensure I always have some and that the quality is good. I’ve started researching indoor cannabis cultivation. Doesn’t look too hard. I mean, I can grow African violets. I live alone in a 4 bedroom house and can spare the room. The biggest problem I foresee is how to block out the light from the grow lights so the neighbors and cops don’t wonder why the lights are always on (suddenly) in that room. I can select from a wide variety of cannabis seeds online and have decided to try one of the “medical marijuana” strains. We’ll see where this leads.
One of the bloggers I follow is The Quiet Borderline. Recently, she has been having extreme difficulty getting any “help” that actually helps. She has described anxiety, inappetance, insomnia, restlessness and depression. Hey, I thought – pot might just be the thing to try. As she is locked up, the problem is how to access some. Perhaps a friend or family member could bring her some “enhanced” baked goods. I thought of sharing this with her, but then i thought that someone would say “she’s just a pothead and she’s full of shit”. But I don’t think so. I’ve been smoking for at least 40 years off and on (more on lately) and I feel pretty confidant about my expectations.
I don’t know anything about the status of medical marijuana in the U.K. Here in the U.S. progress is slowly being made and as someone who does what I think best i’m waiting for the legal and medical communities to catch up to what many suffering people already know. It’s not just about getting high, it’s about feeling better and managing our lives with a natural plant product with few, if any side effects. You can’t overdose on pot. I may still make the suggestion to TQB and not give a fuck what others believe.
When I was hospitalized in Feb. they started me on yet more new drugs and zapped me with more ECT. Meds: Saphris (antipsychotic), Lithium (mood stabilizer – I’ve had this before), nortryptyline (tricyclic antidepressant) and trazodone (antidepressant/sleep aid). Did this make me feel better? I don’t think so. I was twitching badly from the lithium and didn’t feel any less depressed. I stopped taking the antipsychotic immediately upon discharge because, as I told my shrink -“I’d rather know what Wolf (my voice) is thinking than not”. So… I have slowly weaned myself off the other meds. I can’t tell my family because my sister told me if I stopped my meds again that she would hit me. I have told my therapist the truth (and sworn him to silence). My 8 week appt. with my shrink is next week and I will have to lie to him. I’m trying to prove (to me mostly) that there is nothing wrong with me. I believe that on a fundamental level that I have simply changed from the person I used to be. I’m not “sick”.
On of the side effects of ECT is short term memory loss. I do not remember the first three weeks of my hospitalization. When I “woke up” I had a nurse with me 1:1 until the minute I was discharged out the door. I have no idea why. So, I have requested my medical records so I can figure out what went on during the period I can’t remember.
Yesterday, my therapist started our session with the usual amenities then said “I’m worried about you. You’re not sleeping well, you’re not taking your meds and I think you may need to be in the hospital”. Yes, i’m not sleeping well right now and i’m not taking my meds. But, i’m still detoxing from them and expect to feel better shortly. I think he’s just panicing. Time will tell. I’m not going back to the hospital.