Cannabis, the Ever-Versatile Medicine

Hi, my name is Dianna and I've smoked Cannabis every day for the past 14 years.

If you and I were to meet, you'd never guess it.  Other than the fact that I find a way to work
cannabis into the conversation often, you'd never even suspect that I smoked at all.

I don't mean to visually profile.  Nowadays, it's all but impossible to pick out the cannabis users.
We are every body!!

Unfortunately though, the media does this for us.  Every time the news shows anything cannabis-related the pictures are always of smoking.  Usually big gaggers.  Or the big clouds over rallies.
Don't get me wrong ... it's like incense to my hunni and I.  But there a lot of people who abhor smoking, and every time they read or hear about medical marijuana or cannabis, they see young people smoking. This conditioning goes deep.

I just gave my co-worker 3 gelatin caplets filled with my home-made cannabis-infused olive oil.
She has severe insomnia and the last time she took a prescribed sleeping pill, she woke up in her neighbor's back yard.  Funny, that never happens when she drinks wine and smokes doobs.  But this oil is different than doobs.  For my pooch Molly and for yours truly, the oil in these caplets is like a friendly hand coaxing you to bed and rubbing your back til you fall asleep.  It does not sedate, it only allows your brain to do what you want it to do, when you want it to do it.

And it's so easy to make.

Last week I did something to my lower back that pinched the nerve.  I took two of these caplets before work and took two for later.  I also applied my own home-made cannabis infused coconut oil cream several times throughout my shift.  It contains Castor oil and bee's wax as well, both medicinal.  The effects were astounding.

The manufacturers of Ibuprofen pills and muscle creams don't want legalization to happen.  This is why.  Making medicines like these are as easy as baking cookies and stew in a crock pot on a Sunday afternoon.  I've even made some cream in which I steeped some of my home-grown hot peppers.  My hunni absolutely swears by this stuff.  More than made with love.  Made with that which your body easily accepts.  Natural, organic stuff.

I come from a long line of do-it-yourselfer's.  I grew up with gardening genius parents who were partners with mother nature.  We had carrots and potatoes buried in the 'hole' in the basement til into the new year.  My mom lined the shelves with preserves, and filled the freezer with veg.  Home-made is simply better.

Personal freedoms are a core belief that many of us still possess.  Deleting the middle-man and truly providing for yourself by making your own medicine and food is at the very heart of this belief.  This is a good belief;  this is universal.  It can bypass boundaries because health is life.  And food and safe medicine is a part of health.

If you want to learn more about this, google is your friend.  Also, there are Cannabis information clinics like Canadian Cannabis Clinics opening up all over.  Many of which are covered by ohip.  But the best way to really learn about cannabis as medicine is to normalize the conversation.  You might be surprised who's still in the cannabis closet.  They may be waiting for someone else to bring the topic up.  A friend found this out once after telling a co-worker about cannabis being good for so many things.  The co-worker said, "yep... it's the only thing that controls my husband's Crohn's".

If I could momentarily bend Parliament's ear, I would tell them that you cannot mandate personal choice.  Otherwise, "personal choice" would be an oxymoron.  It is not.  It is a right that we as hard-working, life-loving, and tax-paying citizens deserve.

And we're here to demand it.  Cuz we got oil to make!!

Anxiety ... the Unannounced Guest From Hell

I feel renewed after another amazing CBT session with my Psychotherapist.  We talked briefly about anxiety.  I realize now that I don't have it.  I get anxious before events that stress me, but I don't have Anxiety.

Did you know it comes out of nowhere?

Like one minute you're fine;  the next your heart is beating out of your chest and you're in the fetal position.

You can't prepare for that.  You can't prevent what you don't know is coming.

Because I don't have it, I have few wise words.  But I saw this video on The MIGHTY that I wanted
to share with you.  In turn, you can share it too.

Here it is.

Prohibition Promotes Predator Pricing

I never wanted to be legal.  I always thought that putting my name and address on a list that Heir Harper could see, was crazy.  In fact, when I recently met my new Doctor, I told him that I would never ask him to sign for me.  I said that I didn't want to be legal until everyone was legal ... as in full Cannabis legalization.

But my opinion has changed.

The Supreme Court of Canada recently ruled that legal Cannabis users MUST be allowed to grow their own medicine.  That's a big deal.  Depending on how much of these dried plant flowers you consume in a day, the costs can be choking.  For instance, it's said that the average legally prescribed dose is 5 grams per diem.  

The math:

5 grams x 30 days = 150 grams per month

If the average price per gram (through LP or green-thumbed friend) is $7 then ....

$7 x 150 grams = $1050 per month

**if you're buying through a Licensed Producer, you're also paying tax and shipping.

Now before you start ranting about how that's too much Cannabis per week or month, realize that many patients do not necessarily smoke those flowers.  Many of us make other medicines out of them. Let's just say that when it comes to converting this plant product into medicine, the ratios are similar to sap and maple syrup:  it takes a shitload of sap to make a pancake's worth of syrup and it takes a shitload of dried flowers to make medicinal oils, butters, tinctures, and baked goods.

The past few months have been rough for me.  I have depression that doesn't respond well to pharmaceuticals.  It responds well to cannabinoids though, pulling me out of the cyclical negative chatter in my brain.  But because of prohibition, lack of societal education, and capitalism, many people still smoke their flowers.  It's the cheapest way to get the cannabinoids in and get them working.  I'd like to be getting even more cannabinoids in my system by way of a vaporizer but I can't afford one of those.  I'm eager to medicate my blues with whole plant cannabis oil too, but the moolah isn't available for that much sap ... er flowers.  

Speaking of those flowers, there are a few hundred different strains of this flowering plant and more being bred every day.  Each one has a unique cannabinoid profile with differing amounts of healing cannabinoids like THC, CBD, CBC, CBN, and the list goes on.  Each of these compounds assists the body in some way via our already existing endocannabinoid system.  Legal growers grow the strains to treat their ills or the ills of the patients they're growing for.  But I don't have that luxury.  I take what I can get and save my seeds for someday.  

What if that someday could be sooner rather than later?  What if I got legal too?

You see, prohibition creates and promotes predatory pricing that could rival the greed of even douche-bag Martin Shkreli who raised the price of his company's HIV pill $736 PER PILL. Prohibition and restrictions on growing raise the price astronomically for those of us who use Cannabis daily. After equipment and seeds or clones are purchased, many legal growers boast a cost of mere dollars per gram.  One friend says she grows her medicine for 50 cents per gram. 
Let's do that math shall we?

.50 x 150 grams = $75 per month

Do you see what I'm saying?  The mark-up on this product is huge!  By simply legalizing this plant and giving its users the same respect we give tobacco users, we'd be saving ourselves so much money! When the Liberals implement the regulations for growing, as instructed by the supreme court decision, legal patients could pay their rent with the money they'll save each month.  That would leave a lot of extra spending money so we could help build that sacred economy.  

To speak plainly, it's disgusting how much we pay for Cannabis.  It's so valuable that it's being traded on the stock market, or at least some of its legal growers like Tweed are.  That's gross isn't it? While children with Dravet's and Epilepsy die around us because the plant that helps them remains illegal, players in the stock market can line their pockets trading stocks in the medicine that could save them.

And for those of us wanting to catch a buzz, $10 will get us 4 tall boy beers or 1 measly gram of cannabis, enough for 3 modest joints.  To save money, those beer and even wine drinkers can brew their own at home, but they can't grow this plant.  It's a complete double-standard and it's harming society as day after day we educate ourselves via google and choose the safer option. The fact that we pay so much more for weed than we pay for booze is thanks to prohibition.  

Legalize it please.  Legalize cannabis for me and for every person who has asked me where to get Rick Simpson Oil.  Legalize it for the children and the parents fighting for their lives from diseases that Cannabis treats.  Legalize it for the addicts who don't want to be on methadone forever. Legalize it for the chronic pain sufferers who don't want to feel drugged out anymore.  Legalize it for the Veterans we said we'd take care of.  Legalize it to set precedence that science trumps financial or political gain. 

And finally, legalize it for that enormous part of our country that still believes in personal rights and freedoms.

Natural Disasters Not Covered by Insurance?

Being a responsible adult means insuring your home.  Being a responsible adult means reading the fine print.  As coma-inducing as your insurance contract is, we've all read and chuckled over the clauses that void said contract.  For instance, in home insurance there are clauses that state that the contract is void if damage is done by "natural causes" or even at times worded as "acts of God". What does that even mean?

Well one family from Oasis, B.C. now knows exactly what that means.  The foundation under their home is shifting, and though they've made several attempts to steady it, the middle of their home is sinking.  An immediate evacuation order has been made and this family is now totally uprooted and fighting to keep their home.

How is a young family supposed to recover from a natural disaster like this?  Shari and Trevor are still paying on that home ... a home that they may be forced to walk away from.  Essentially having given up years of mortgage and insurance payments, money they'll never get back.

What must this be like for their children Kaylin and Lucas to see their parents wracked with worry? To know that they may never be able to move back into their home?  I can't help but put myself in their shoes, and I can't imagine how they're feeling right now.  I'd imagine "lost" is a good way to describe how they all feel.

And all of this is because mother nature has a clogged drain?  All because there is more ground-water this year?  Who's fault is that?  This brings up a good question:  why is there no-fault insurance for car owners but not for home-owners?  You can read here about their on-going struggles with drainage in the area.  As clearly implied in this article, today it's Shari and Trevor being evacuated, but tomorrow could be their neighbors too!!

Mountainous British Columbia ... I'd still move there in a heartbeat.  For many of us, that vast expanse just signifies freedom.  Oasis is located in the West Kootenay region of British Columbia. Nestled near the Selkirk mountains, it's one of the most beautiful places in the world.

This blog isn't really a political one, but with ventures in fracking and other ground-disrupting practices flourishing, can we really be sure this is from natural causes?  As recent as last June, numerous communities including some close to Oasis, were awoken by a thunder-like boom that has been chocked up to possible blasting, road construction or rock quarrying.  Though none were scheduled. But as you can read here what some of the locals thought, many suspecting fracking in nearby Idaho and Washington.

It seems like a lost cause to fight the insurance companies.  They are too big to fail.  So when this type of disaster strikes, the communities step in.  It's a beautiful thing to see so many people giving money via crowdfunding sites like this one.  It truly feels good to help, it feels good to give.  The loving community that this family live in and among has blessed them with generosity.  The money raised will help them pay rent on their home away from home, as well as pay the plethora of other bills that are surely coming their way.  Who knows, with exposure comes miracles.

So, if you can give, please do.  If not, please share.

It takes a community to make sure we all make it through.

The Dissonance of Depression

We are made to want to survive.  We are made to thrive.  So much so that countless systems in the body work without us even knowing it, including our hearts that beat from a spark of electricity. They just do what they do because that’s what they’re supposed to do.

On the other hand, my depression and millions of others’ forms of mental illness is all about self-loathing.  Frankly, we hate ourselves. We question our worth, and our purpose for even going on. Our brains magnify the negative and the rest is relative hell manifested in millions of different forms of mental illness.

Our bodies inherently want to live;  our minds often want to die.  Such disharmony.

The cognitive dissonance of knowing you’re supposed to want to thrive, and seeing so many people around you thrive, can make you doubt your value even more. If they can do it why can’t I?

For a long time, I allowed my depression to define me.  And seeing healthy-brained people on television and movies, as well as all around me, made me hate that I had this disease.  It’s not a far stretch to start hating yourself.  You are your depression.  You’re why you’re depressed.  It’s all you.

So a while ago, while I was down in the deep, I had a moment of clarity that has changed how I see my mental illness.  I was noticing how when I’m depressed, I pull away from loved ones.  I thought how my depression itself was like a many tentacled krakken closing itself around me, keeping me down, keeping me away from everyone else I love.  Like a spoiled child wants a parent all to itself.

Separating the depression from ME has made a difference.  I feel like I’ve effectively chosen sides, and I’ve chosen my side.  And it is a fight.  Every day, every friggin hour some days is a fight.  But I’m on MY side now.  Knowing I have my own back fully and completely is powerful.  That other side of me that is depressed and wants to surrender belongs to the krakken not to me.

If your mental illness were a monster, a demon, a rabid animal … what would it be?

Visualize it and then fight it.

My Righteous Turn to Talk

I got bible-thumped the other night.  But it was a free ride so ... I just let it happen.

I smiled as he told me about Jesus and the book.  As though I, at 42 wonderful years wouldn't
already know about him and it.

I was baptized and raised Catholic.  I have opinions of my own about that book.  Yet my faith was supposed to supersede questions or curiosity or the desire to comprehend.

But this guy schooled me with such surety.  Like he had no doubts that A). he was right and B). I gave a shit.  I sat in awe of his confidence that I was listening.  How does he do that?  How was he so sure that I wanted to hear any of that nonsensical fairy tale sillyness?

In reading about Christianity and all of it's bajillion different sects, I've learned that this way of acting is a common thing.  This man spoke as though he were so RIGHTEOUS that it choked me.  That word.  Man, who knew it had so many meanings?

The first 100 or so times I heard that word, it was preceded with the word "self" so to be honest, I was surprised to ever hear it used in a positive way.  But it's supposed to be a good thing ... to be righteous.  To "act in accord with divine or moral law".  Sounds like a know-it-all to me.

And so I thought, what the heck ... I'll bite.  So I says, "I just have a real problem that this book was put together by a roomful of men.  I'm bothered by the fact that women are few and far between in those pages."

He smiled righteously, ready for catechism #2.  He listed other females from the book, as though that mattered.  For me, it's not so much the name or the existence of the female form in the bible, it's their role in that book.  Let's face it, women were lower than the bull back then.  This righteous man kept talking about the book as a guideline for how to live our lives.  While in reality, if that were the truth, I'd be barefoot and pregnant, and not needing a free ride from work because my place, as stated very clearly in the book, is to be in service to the master.

I continued to smile sweetly as he spoke of God's love for all of us.

Let me be clear ... I know who God is.  The Goddess and I are tight.  The Source is where it's at, and the Spirit gifts me daily.  I don't need no schooling in spirituality and now that I've had time to digest this experience, I feel somewhat offended.  Let this be a lesson to any and all righteous Christians reading this:  we don't need your help.  Ask before you school.  Don't assume that you are wise and I am not.

My unsolicited spiritual adviser left it with an open invitation to have coffee sometime and talk more about Jesus and the book that I personally believe uses him like porn.  I once again nodded.  Stuck in politeness. But if that time ever comes rest assured .... I will have my own righteous time to talk.

Winning the Fight

When depression grips me, I go down like Gandalf and Balrog.
Sometimes I feel the falling, and gripping at the sides, I cling to the now in desperation.

And all the while I'm down, I'm fighting it.  Winning battles and losing battles.
Being convinced -- but then convincing my demon of my worth.

For Gandalf, it's a fire breathing bull but for me, my dark I call the Krakken.

I realize today, in the moments I write this, how very much I learn from my falls
down that deep, dark hole of depression.

I know that I rise the victor after every fight, for in this fight, not winning means not rising.

My Krakken thinks I'm a waste of space.  Every fight we have is to the death -- literally.
It tries to convince me to give up, to give in, to surrender.

But I rise because some part of me is a fighter, a scrapper, a stubborn Celtic starseed
that will not surrender to the darkness.

And so I win.  I am winning.
Is this what winning means?  Does it mean winning over our own demon too?

I rose today to see goodness in the world.
I feel love and compassion,
I feel inspired for my future.

In happiness we celebrate;  in struggle we learn.