Since we’re on the subject of alternatives, let’s talk about CBD.
CBD, if you’re not aware, is an acronym for the Central Business District and Common Bile Duct and the Convention on Biodiversity.
It’s also is a shortcut way of saying CannaBiDiol, a compound within Marijuana plants. It accounts for about 40% of the overall extract from the plant, it’s highly known for being non-psychoactive, and is one of 113 cannabinoids within Cannabis.
You all know I have a long history with Marijuana, Mary Jane, that sticky-icky-icky, just as long as I’ve had a history with psychotropics, the psych meds, the poison, the Rx’s, whatever. Medication made it impossible to wake up in the morning, impossible to last throughout the day, impossible to not gain weight, impossible to feel like a human. Marijuana made it possible to tolerate the day, and not be present for it, which kind of sounds like a win-win to a 14 year-old who hated school, hated living, hated going home, hated waking up, hated everything. That’s why I poured vodka into the Gatorade and water bottles and chilled in class pretty fucked up.
I enjoyed that. I enjoyed all that because I wasn’t really present and I could skate through life without caring too much about the next day or even the present moment. Marijuana was helpful for my anxiety until I got deeper into mood altering and I’d sit with it until the world presented itself through a fish eye lens and I had to ask people if reality was real. People were changing shape and colors and I couldn’t really hear anything but myself; other people needed to shout in order for me to really understand through all my laughter and confusion. It felt like a very, very mild LSD hit. The last time I smoked a large hit of marijuana was about two years ago and the paranoia hit me bad. I kept hearing radios and cops in the bushes.
Regardless, I am a huge advocate for Marijuana and psychedelics like DMT and Ayahuasca. What I did with Marijuana was no different than what people do with heroin: abuse it. Were someone to use it for a purpose other than to escape reality . . . well, that’s a different story. These plants, psychedelic and otherwise (coke leaves, e.t.c.) have been used by indigenous tribes across the globe for centuries as spiritual healers, as pain relievers, as body stabilizers. Psychedelics aren’t for “trippin’ balls, dude”, they’re for reaching a different level of consciousness, they’re for getting in touch with the spirit world.
Westerners who try psychedelics with the mindset of “hallucinations aren’t real and they’re scary” get a terrifying experience. Others who have grown up around the understanding that this reality may not be the only reality, who have been at peace with the world around them and themselves go into psychedelics with a completely different mindset. It’s not very surprising that when confronted with something like psychosis or what we would consider “schizophrenia” over here–well, they often have a better prognosis and more positive experiences than those of us in the western “developed” world. Check out the striking difference between the U.S diagnosis of “Schizophrenia” and the experiences of those in India with the same diagnosis.
That being said, I’m going to document my adventure with CBD oil. I hear it’s fantastic for anxiety, and my anxiety has been terrible, I can’t wake up without shaking, I can’t go to work without shaking, I can’t go to meetings without shaking, I can’t do anything without shaking right now. Even eating makes me anxious. There are CBD edible chews, oral gels, oils, wax (#dab), and you can vape it if you so choose. Personally, I’m more of a wax/oil type person (#DAB) only because it makes the former stoner in me nostalgic. But, edibles are nice too.
I’m not squiring oral gel into my mouth with a giant kiddie syringe. Looks fucking dumb.
I hear CBD is also wonderful for epilepsy and hard-to-treat seizures.
That being said: work with your problems within yourself, outward, whether that problem is psychosis or anxiety. Don’t expect a pill or a supplement or an oil or a wax or a leaf or DMT or aliens to get you where you want to be. 98% of it is up to you.
For me, 2% will be up to this CBD oil.
If I die, you’ll all know why: the dispensary sold me heroin instead of CBD obviously.
So, I should probably be working towards my final for this online class and my other articles, but you all know me and my spontaneous writing sessions. It’s like my gaming sessions: I’ll game for a week or two or three, every day for hours until both of my hands shrivel and turn black and my finger tips fall off, then I won’t game for a few months.
May is “mental health awareness” month or whatever, yada yada. If you all want my opinion on this, you can refer to this post particularly, because I’m sick of reiterating the same thing every year.
But, this post will probably seem fitting for that cult-mindset (Ooh, bringin’ out the big guns now), because it’s about another person who claims to be a mental health advocate herself. Well, it’s not really about her, but more so about what was said to her, that I don’t necessarily agree with. And you know when I don’t agree with something, I have to put it out there on the internet for a bunch of people to not agree with me. That’s the way of the world, right?
I am not a Dr. Phil fan. I think the show is highly dramatized, and although subjects are approached with caution, I feel we’re pressured to believe that this Phil dude (who isn’t really a psychologist, did you know that?) helps people in a way no other person could. His wife’s face scares the fuck out of me (Sorry), and these people’s lives are almost exploited on television. I don’t really know how that makes mental health issues look, particularly if he advocates things like “bipolar disease“.
You all remember the girl who was on there who believed she was pregnant with Jesus or whatever and claimed she’d been diagnosed with “paranoid schizophrenia” and her parents argued and said she “hadn’t been” . . . what was that episode even? Jesus Christ. Personally, I liked the man who said he wrote one of Taylor Swifts’ songs. I think Taylor should just give him the rights, because she’s only embarrassing herself by admitting she writes that shit she sings.
Anyway, A few weeks ago I guess this woman, Emily, who says she is a mental health advocate and posts pictures of herself online with her multitudes of self-harm scars, was also on Dr. Phil. She says that she shouldn’t have to be ashamed of her scars and she should be free to wear the shorts and short-sleeves that she does without feeling shameful for it.
As a self-harmer (although, I haven’t struggled with it in a while, since October 2016) I agree with her. Would I go around posting every scar and cut, old and new, online: no. That’s my personal preference not to do that. Whether she does or not, whatever. People who say she’s influencing people to cut themselves–I don’t understand that. If those people who see her are choosing to self harm, they are dealing with far deeper issues than just watching her on social media. Trust.
She said she continued to struggle with the self-harm, PTSD, and the accompanying anxiety and depression that comes with PTSD, and Phil asked why she thought she could call herself an advocate if she struggled so much.
Well, that was the first thing he said that made zero sense and proves he has very little personal experience with mental health struggles. You can easily be an advocate and have moments of struggle within yourself. You don’t have to be “perfect” or “cured” to be an advocate, to be understanding and compassionate for others. In fact, if you think you’re “perfect” or “cured”, you must be one strange advocate, because no one is perfect and you can’t cure or rid yourself of your humanity so . . . that’s some fake bullshit. If you think you have to have never struggled at all to be an advocate, than you’re really fucking stupid.
In the same clip, they were speaking about the influence she may or may not have on people. The woman says she gets many people who message her and tell her that her confidence with her online persona has helped them see a counselor, talk more about their struggles, e.t.c, you know the deal. Phil responds with this exact quote:
“But you understand, my point of view is, mental illness of any form is nothing to be ashamed of, but neither is it something to celebrate”.
Well fuck me, let me sit in a hole of pity over my “illness” and be afraid to be proud of who I am, how I am, how I act, and my quirks. Fucking God FORBID we embrace this portion of our HUMANITY. Oh, the HORROR.
In my very experienced opinion, it is something to celebrate.
In his very professional opinion, these “illnesses” are proven biochemical and neurological, well, defects. You wouldn’t celebrate someone’s terminal illness, right? Than let’s certainly not celebrate the diversity of the human mind and the human condition. That would be horrific.
It’s something to celebrate to me because it shows there are multitudes of ways to experience this reality. It shows people deal with pain and life in different ways. It shows that the human mind is much more complex and real and human than we will ever know. That, to me, is fascinating, and worthy of celebration.
And just because we can celebrate it, doesn’t mean that’s invalidating the struggle. If anything, it helps prove that struggles can make you stronger.
Does that mean I agree with this woman, this Emily? No. I don’t disagree with her either. If she feels free and content with herself by posting these things, fine. I wouldn’t do it, but I’m not her.
If you want something to talk about for #MayMentalHealthCultMindsetMonth, why not talk about the diversity of how our brains react to this life we live? Because that’s essentially what’s happening: life is a traumatic experience in itself and we all have different ways of dealing with that. If you want to believe that makes you defective, be my guest. Seems kind of self-defeating if you ask me.
I think I’ll go put on a party hat and grab some Whiskey Sours for Thoth and I.
I feel like I did that thing for the umpteenth time where I’ve been absent for a while, or so far gone in my head that my presence on this website has been a Double Debbie Downer. Love how that alliteration just wraps your mind in a fuzzy blanket, don’t you?
I don’t remember writing those previous posts of mine. But now I’m back for the time being, with an energy burst. I’ve got a lot to talk about, a lot to say, and mostly I would like to give a completely sincere and in no way passive aggressive shout out (again) to everyone at WordPress and the Admin team there for, you know, basically making the free version of this website worthless. Bravo. That’s amazing. I appreciate the changes, they’ve truly changed my life for the better. I mean, things would have been great had you not done what you’ve done, but I get it, you need to make money too.
That being said, there are going to be a lot of changes to this site. The first change is that I will be owning the domain and upgrading very soon. That is a must. By June, at the latest. The site will change, the pages will change, the content perhaps as well. I intend to regain my Google traffic that I had back when I first started this website, when you didn’t need to pay at all for some basic S.E.O privileges. And $300 a year isn’t horrible, but for someone who is impulsive with money, who is taking a vacation this summer, and whose car has acquired at least 1200 dollars in repairs, 300 dollars is basically my life.
I keep referring to what I started this website for: sharing a story, being sarcastic in the face of the mental health industry (ALEX GORSKY), Pharmaceuticals (FANAPT, SAPHRIS) fighting the idea of stigma, and presenting alternative topics from the mental health field. My personal rambles into the rabbit hole and outer space sometimes interject, but no one’s complained about that yet. You all missed my stint with the Egyptian God, Thoth these last few weeks. I really don’t want to post that on here. Just know it was a wild ride.
I want to start having people share guest posts, stories, experiences, ideas, and make this website more communal once I upgrade, which will be an amazing opportunity to connect with other bloggers. In the meanwhile, if you have a story brewing inside of you about mental health, about your experience, your recovery, spirituality and mental health, anything like that, my email is located at my “This Is Me” page, and I’d love to start inquiries about this. If you’re feeling reserved, no worries, I’m going to be scoping all over the internet looking for people who want to share a story or opinion for the next few months. I’ll probably come across you.
I was going to say “if you’re feeling shy”, but then I realized how much I despise the word shy. At this point in my life it’s become an insult. More on that later.
A lot will change. Stay tuned.
Secondly, if you’d like to read something of mine that is a little different than what I usually post on this website, I’ve managed a guest post on a fairly new website (I love being apart of new websites, watching them grow and being apart of that is the best) called AlternativeMentalhealthrevolution.com. Beautiful website, it was wonderful to collaborate with the owner, and if you want to check out my post, it’s here. I hope I did justice to the topic I covered. I really hope I did. I should have mentioned this a long time ago, but I’ve been in and out of space for a while these last few weeks. It feels nice to be out of it again.
Dissociation, psychosis, dissociativepsychosis, I don’t know what it is, but I need to get it under control.
Anyway, I did another post for MentalHealthTalk.info. Another wonderful editor and owner to collaborate with, I thank both of these websites for allowing me this opportunity. I thank Trish especially from Mental Health Talk, because I was writing my article for her in the midst of one of my dissociative episodes, or whatever, I still don’t know what to call it–reaction to stress? I don’t know. But I got distanced from the article severely and took eons to get back to her. So I appreciate her patience and diligence. Anyway, this post is more orientated towards my story a bit. If you’d like to check it out, it’s here. Again, should have really done this earlier.
That leaves two more surprise posts I have lined up. I’ve been on Thought Catalog, that was amazing. I was on Mogul, a kind of women empowerment website, and that was amazing. But this next website, which I still need to send some samples to–it makes me nervous just thinking about actually getting something accepted on it, even if it’s just a blog post. This next website I’ve looked up to since I was about fourteen and just learning about psychiatry and its troubles. It’s where I learned a lot of truth. When I’m featured on it, it’ll be on here. It should be fairly soon, assuming I get my shit together.
The final post will be for a few semi-popular sites. I’m doing a few more for some websites that are pro-mental health and anti-stigma and kind of based on the medical model, but they didn’t object with my pitch so hey, I take that as a free reign to *respectfully* talk shit.
Thought Insertion, I like to call it. Quite Ironically. Because I’m planting thoughts in people’s heads just from them reading the article. Don’t think about it, believe it.
Just one person reading about alternatives could change a whole lot.
At any rate, that’s what I’ve been up to. Decoding messages from Thoth, dissociating, writing articles, obsessing over my cat, accepting my failure in academics and relishing in my small everyday successes.
More to come.
You all have been with me for the last year and a half or so, don’t give up on me now. Things are just getting good.
I see WordPress’ game. I see the “buy our business or premium plan to have SEO’s (the right to search engine optimization). 8.99 per month or 24.99 per month for the business plan. Come on, man. Fuck you. Fuck your shit. No wonder everything has been so wonky since their updates. Eventually, I’ll pay your 24.99 per month, and everything better run seamlessly and I better have two million views a day and if I don’t I’m suing WordPress and taking the C.E.O’s job.
Yep. I’m doing that. Totally.
I’m posting twice today, I haven’t done that in a long while.
I ate a burrito today.
I know this isn’t Instagram, but I’m talking about my food anyway. It was a big supreme burrito, I don’t think I’ve eaten good for the past few weeks, I don’t really know, and I’m reading “Spider”, and my heart drops in my stomach and my veins go cold and my leg starts bouncing, it bounces like a spider on a web in a rainstorm, and voices are faint, other people’s voices not ones in my head, they sound as if they’re coming through a balloon lodged perfectly within my eardrum, and my blood is racing, tingling even, and I can’t focus on the words in the book because they don’t exist to me any longer.
So I’m here now, listening to my heart thump in my ears over Twisted Insane.
Like I said in the post earlier, I’ve been digging around too much, facing up to too many things, and the panic is rising, rising, rising, and I’m sure I’ll snap at some point soon, I’m assuming.
Like right now, if this person continues fucking arguing with me over what I’m feeling. Don’t you hate people who do that? Who argue over how you’re feeling when you’re the one feeling it? This is why I keep my mouth shut if someone in my household asks “what’s up?” Why should I say anything if I’ll just get an argument?
All I wanted to do was enjoy my burrito. That’s it, that’s all. All I wanted to do was get rest before work tonight.
I should have seen this coming, I couldn’t handle the slightest of noises this morning. My mother opening a package pissed me off beyond control. Tapping, birds chirping, cars passing, everything has just made my nerves jump under my skin. I’ve been shaking for a good three hours now. When I’m not shaking, and I sit still, I still feel like I’m shaking.
You know how when you’re on a really fast roller coaster, like the Gold Striker at Great America, and you step off and you’re kind of giddy and your legs feel weird and you’re bouncing in your skin from the adrenaline? That’s how I feel right now.
It’s shitty when you know your brain is dealing with something big, but you don’t really know what it is yet. When I try and talk to someone about it, I forget what I need to say. I’m sure that’s my brain doing it on purpose. We’re not supposed to share things, we were taught that from the moment I was born with belts, shoes, and insults.
My chair is broken. Fuck, I almost face planted. Well, at least I’m laughing.
Listening to really fast rap when you’re this wired is not helpful. I’m going to stop listening to this now.
I love my kitten. I also wish I had a service dog, one that could nudge me through all this bullshit. They’re good for PTSD and panic attacks, I hear. They can walk into stores with me, e.t.c. So much money and training through.
My brain and I, we’re different people, always have been. Not because “split personalities errmahhgawd”, but because we developed separately.
I also love how I can literally be screaming at everything, slamming things, shaking in my shoes, and no one talks to me. I love it. It helps so much, God, does it help.*