If You’re Struggling and Need Some Hope

I have drugs stashed all over my house. This way, if I notice I’m down, I can re-up in any room. I’m covered in the medicine cabinet for before showers, the garage tools drawer a great backstop, the living room side table third drawer back-right corner behind the Bible, in the TV room under the TV in the Sorry game that hasn’t been used since 2003. I’m simply Pac-Man, and these new Mandy’s Edibles are my power pellets.

But I spend a good amount of time terrified that our marijuana legalization is even more misguided than misinformation about Covid misinformation. Everyone MIGHT be telling me it’s all safe, nothing to see here, next thing we know it’s like [pick any one of the THOUSAND no-longer-used chemicals that everyone once claimed were safe but now are cancerous] and we’re told to never have it in our houses, period.

My life has fallen apart.

I was told by I doctor that I should have a psychiatrist prescribe me drugs but I thought wait, what? I can do that myself.

So I did it myself.

I cried out the crazy.

If I had not ripped it all out and poured it on the floor, I might never have made it through. Those who followed through with seppuku never realized it COULD be metaphorical, if they wanted. (Actually, not too long ago metaphor was a mystery to the masses, people lived literally, that’s all their consciousness would allow. My how things have changed.)

But, now I have my self-medication hidden all over the house, and I have young kids. So that’s a concern. But, the hiding spots were selected carefully, and the goal is to kick this habit eventually.

That’s the part no one gives you hope with. I meant help with, but I’ll take hope with. It just appeared.

Those of us with mental issues, “late in life ments” or “LILMs” or “Lil M’s” as they’re known, never get anyone cheering for us.

If you feel your mind has changed dramatically as you advanced along your person path through your private tunnel through time, I’m here to help. I want to encourage you. Listen to this.

After many, many, many, many setbacks, relapses, as they’re also called, I stood in my closet, getting dressed, reached for a top shelf (sure to be clean) pair of jeans, and two gummies mashed together (they get you proper zonked) fell onto the floor. I had stashed some up high at some point, I completely forgot.

I looked at the ball of sugar and tapioca syrup laced with thc lying like a grain of hail on my closet floor, I felt happy. It’s power over me was gone. I loomed over it. It was its proper size, finally, rather than being a boulder taking up 90% of my dreams. Planning, all day every day, how my dosages will be delivered.

My life was empty, purposeless, until I created this challenge for myself.

But was it worth the fear it induced?

Yes, because I didn’t die (in any permanent ways) and most of my fears have been cured.

I carried the everlasting gummy ball in my pocket all afternoon, through my child’s school ceremony (I haven’t been sober to one of those in years) and was happy. I was content. I was IN every conversation I was having. I only let my ego induce panic twice, but incredibly briefly.

I want to let you all know I still haven’t taken it. It’s been 8 hours. I will keep you posted, so you know there is a light. However small, however brief, I’ve seen it. It’s reason to be hopeful. It’s like finally finding the surface of the water after years of panic and certainty of death.

I love you all. I love this life I’ve been given. I didn’t choose a second of it, but believed it was all constructed by me. Over on this side of the ocean, life is… different.

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Middle-aged, possibly insane, lover of moments, THRILLED to finally feel alive. Obsessed with the constellation of bights (binary lights) between people’s ears.

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Neddy Bly

Neddy Bly

Middle-aged, possibly insane, lover of moments, THRILLED to finally feel alive. Obsessed with the constellation of bights (binary lights) between people’s ears.

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