I sincerely appreciate all your remarks and advice.
Today is my birthday. I'm 54. I have had a life of hospitals, doctors' offices, jails, therapy groups, meditation guides, philosophy classes, religion classes, self-help books, and everything else under the sun to find peace in life. I've taken a swimming pool full of meds--most did more harm than good, but a few have granted me a life worth living. I have undoubtedly drunk a Great Lake of alcohol trying to self-medicate. I have alienated almost all of my friends and am left with a core of a devoted and loving family, which I thank my stars for every day. Please believe me when I say, if you can dream it, I've tried it.
Every time the subject of healing the mind through thinking comes up, I am reminded of a time in a hospital when they finally forced me to go to group therapy, which I vehemently resisted. All the people in the group were one upping each other about how bad they felt, about how life wasn't worth living because their girlfriend left them or they lost their job. You poor lucky bastards, I said, you have a dragon to slay, a dragon you can see with your own eyes, go fucking slay it and quit whining about it. Very insensitive of me, I know, and I shouldn't compare other's pain to my own, but I have often been laid to the absolute ground just when my life was at its best. One of my first long hospitalizations came about during a fun filled, devil may care summer in the tropics. It was just BAM! Looney toons time. It happens whether life is grand, or life is shit. I have come to face the hard fact that no amount of learning, thinking, focusing, life changes, or positive outlooks can stop it from happening. Sometimes the brain just isn't quite wired right and in times past it would have, at best, led to a life in an insane asylum, at worst, a permanent bed beneath the soil.
But not now. There are chemicals that can rewire my brain into not trying to kill me every six months. Until now all those chemicals have been created in laboratories, and they aren't created perfectly--the side effects are often sheer nightmares, but cake compared to the alternative. Weed has helped me escape several of those medications and I am grateful. I'm also grateful that it's been such an enjoyable hobby, and I would love to hear more about the strains you speak of that have been proven to heal. But I am not anxious because I'm worried about the future. Hell, my future is living through next week and, if I do, I'll be thrilled. I am no longer worried about anything other than what to make for dinner tomorrow. I'm not anxious about social interactions or anything else. But my mind and my body act like I'm on the lip of the Grand Canyon with a stiff wind at my back.
My dragon is ethereal, and I've learned (and accepted) that chemicals are the only sword against it. Without them, I'd been burned to char a long time ago. So if a
myrcene heavy weed helps me get through the evening and to sleep at night, I have no hesitation to growing it and using it. The stuff I was taking before I started using weed was almost as bad as the symptoms it was treating, almost, but not quite. Weed is so much better. It makes my life enjoyable even when I'm not using it.
I deeply apologize for this ramble and I know it is uncalled for, but I have a very sore spot for people telling me there is a better way to treat my issues. That all I have to do is think the right way and they'll disappear. I've given my everything in trying that. It doesn't work. Not for me anyway.