In a recent post, I wrote about the adverse side effects I’d had to a pharma-based switch in my medication, prescribed to help with my evolving anxiety – which it did do. To counteract the side effects, my doctor prescribed more pharma meds. I disagreed and went back to my old medication.
My decision to go back to my old meds was a good one as the side effects essentially disappeared. Unfortunately though, the anxiety reappeared, rearing its ugly, pernicious head.
#Cannabis has helped! Indeed, vaping cannabis for breakthrough anxiety (like breakthrough pain but with anxiety) helps (me) a great deal. So, when my trusty vaporizer went on the fritz two weeks ago, away went my ability to self-treat. It was more than a little unsettling.
Immediately, I decided to invest in a backup vaporizer. Cyber-Monday sales helped with this, but the ongoing Canada Post strike meant it would be a few days before I would receive the product. So, I pulled out the proverbial CBT (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy) handbook and got busy practicing my coping techniques.
I learned two things. First, using cannabis to manage my breakthrough anxiety works lickety-split! Within minutes of vaping, I’m calm and feeling pleasant. Second, CBT does help (me). It is exhausting, requires a lot of motivation (hard for a chronic depressive like me), and takes time to be effective – depending on the breakthrough anxiety of the moment. Still, it helped me through a few rough patches.
Anxiety and depression are ongoing, (sometimes) lifelong struggles. Use ALL the tools at your disposal; both the tried-and-true (medication, CBT, etc.) and the new (cannabis, etc.). If one of the tools in your toolbox goes on the fritz, reach in and grab another one. As I’ve said in prior posts – when it comes to managing (your) #mentalillness, you gotta do the homework! Know thyself. Participate in your own healing. Nobody else can do it for you.
In case I haven’t mentioned it before, I’m 54 years old. My more serious foray into cannabis started earlier this year, exploring its benefits and uses as an alternative to big pharma – particularly for anxiety and depression. Before that, and excluding the one time I tried it in high-school (one hit), I started partaking in recreational cannabis in 2015, occasionally (once or twice a year) shared a joint with friends.
Cannabis consumption felt good. It made me happy. I laughed… a lot… great, big cathartic laughs! It was fun and it helped me temporarily escape the stresses in my life. Because it was illegal in Canada, and because of the overall stigma cannabis has suffered in the past, I obviously shied away. Oddly (or is it), I had no problem whatsoever drinking alcohol to help me get through a rough day/week/month. I wouldn’t say I became an alcoholic, but my wine consumption rose to about 3-4 bottles a week! For me, that was a lot! No wonder I now have fatty-liver disease (a story for another day).
As you can imagine, it was just a matter of time before the everyday alcohol consumption collided with the occasional cannabis consumption and I experienced my first (and last) serious alcohol/cannabis crossfade (a term my son-in-law taught me).
It was New Year’s Eve 2015 and a few family and friends came over to ring in 2016. We were drinking and someone suggested we have some cannabis. I was all in! Things at work were more and more hectic and I was more than delighted by the prospect of losing myself in the occasion.
I had far too much cannabis far too fast. On top of the alcohol I had already consumed, I quickly (not quick enough) understood that I was in for a bumpy ride… a.k.a. the crossfade from hell!
I was couch-locked (couldn’t move) and barely aware of my surroundings… except for the lights and colours on the TV (Fergie was singing her heart out on Dick Clark). After being offered and accepting something to eat, I closed my eyes and tried to stop myself and the room from spinning. It was working – until I opened one eye just a sliver to see if I was any better.
Let’s just say that eating macaroni and cheese had been a very poor choice given the state I was in. I was still couch-locked, despite the mess I’d made on myself, on the floor, and on the chair (thank god for leather furniture). My adult-aged daughter (yes, my daughter – the guilt was unbearable the next morning) jumped into action, running for a bucket, paper towels and rags. She took care of me; cleaned me up and put me to bed. There I was, a 50-year-old very responsible mom, crossfading after making several bad decisions. This wasn’t funny at all. This wasn’t cathartic. It was tragic. And ever so embarrassing – to this day.
I was unbelievably lucky and so grateful to have been in the safety of my own home, with people who loved me, who helped me without judgement. Imagine something like this happening at a friend’s house, at a restaurant or at a bar? Imagine if I had been driving! The impact – the literal impact – that driving in this condition could have had!
I’m sharing this story in the hopes that people might benefit from my experience. You’re gonna drink? Okay. You’re gonna do cannabis? Okay. Do NOT do both together! And, most importantly – never, EVER, get behind the wheel of a car! There is absolutely no way to predict what will happen to your judgement and/or your abilities while under the influence.
I know I’m like the pot (no pun intended) calling the kettle black but please… consume responsibly!
So cannabis is finally legal in Canada. YAY! October 17th was a big day for us – as a forward-thinking nation, of course – but also for many of us with mental illness looking to either subsidize our pharma products with cannabis or replace them altogether.
My doctor wasn’t ready to make that assertion, nor was she ready to refer me to someone who would. Thusly, I took the matter into my own hands, doing my own research on cannabis as a treatment option for people with mental illness. And to be completely honest, legalization notwithstanding, I have been experimenting with various strains of cannabis and documenting my experiences.
If you’ve read a few of my blogs, you’ll know that I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression in 2000, but have memories of dealing with anxiety and panic from around the time I entered puberty. Since 2000, I have been on two different prescriptions – both SSRIs (Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors), both effective for a time. I consider myself one of the lucky ones – I’ve only had to use two… some sufferers are on veritable cocktails of pharma medications.
Since the onset of peri-menopause three years ago, I’ve been all over the map with my symptoms. Most recently (the past 9 months), I have really been struggling with anxiety to the point where for the third time since 2000, I was put on a new medication – this time, an SNRI (Serotonin-Norepinephrine Reuptake Inhibitors). (As an aside, I was also diagnosed with pre-hypertension and prescribed a low-dose medication for it). While this new SNRI medication has helped a great deal with the anxiety, it has caused two notable side-effects; brain-zaps and exacerbated tinnitus (ringing/whooshing in the ears – which I’ve had my whole life but would only hear if it was either very quiet, or after being subjected to very loud noise e.g. a concert). The tinnitus is now loud and constant and the brain-zaps are happening several times a day (where before they would happen maybe once a month). NOT GOOD! Also noticed but unconfirmed by my doctor as being related (though I believe it is), my blood pressure is even higher despite the medication that was supposed to help lower it! Both tinnitus and hypertension (high blood pressure) are listed as possible side-effects of SRNIs.
My fear when changing medications again was that I would be faced with the very thing that has happened – side-effects that require further exploration (referral to an ENT (Ear/Nose/Throat) doctor – which could take months – to ensure there is nothing mechanically wrong with my ears) and even worse, more medications – I was told to double the hypertension medication! Neither of these will help the brain-zaps at all.
And so, I’ve come full circle back to the question – might cannabis help me with my mental illness? This last doctor’s visit has solidified my resolve to continue my exploration with cannabis to treat my anxiety (as a first step). Against my doctor’s recommendation, I am going to ween myself off the SNRIs and back onto the SSRIs (my baseline, before side-effects). I am not willing to wait for an ENT to tell me that yes, I have tinnitus and no, there is nothing mechanical going on. I do NOT want to double the hypertension medication that was supposed to reduce my high blood pressure.
It is my long-range goal/hope that maybe I can ween myself off of all of it. That’s lofty given the last time I went off my medications without doctor’s supervision I ended up in a deep depression that lasted months. Then again – cannabis wasn’t really an option then. It is now. And the best part is that, since legalization, I can now do it out in the open without having to suffer the villainization that cannabis has suffered in the past.
If you are looking to start your exploration into cannabis, try the Strainprint app. I have found it an invaluable source for researching ailments, symptoms and strains, as well as tracking my sessions with cannabis. Strainprint is available in the Google Playstore as well as the App Store. Thank you Humble & Fred Radio for recommending this app and for all the great cannabis-related content you’ve provided.
So cannabis is finally legal in Canada. YAY! October 17th was a big day for us – as a forward-thinking nation, of course – but also for many of us with mental illness looking to either subsidize our pharma products with cannabis, or replace them altogether.
My doctor wasn’t ready to make that assertion nor was she ready to refer me to someone who would. Thusly, I took the matter into my own hands, doing my own research on cannabis as a treatment option for people with mental illness. And to be completely honest, legalization notwithstanding, I have been experimenting with various strains of cannabis and documenting my experiences.
If you’ve read a few of my blogs you’ll know that I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression in 2000, but have memories of dealing with anxiety and panic from around the time I entered puberty. Since 2000, I have been on two different prescriptions – both SSRIs (Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors), both effective for a time. I consider myself one of the lucky ones – I’ve only had to use two… some sufferers are on veritable cocktails of pharma medications.
Since the onset of perimenopause three years ago, I’ve been all over the map with my symptoms. Most recently (the past 9 months), I have really been struggling with anxiety to the point where for the third time since 2000, I was put on a new medication – this time, an SNRI (Serotonin-Norepinephrine Reuptake Inhibitors). (As an aside, I was also diagnosed with pre-hypertension and prescribed a low-dose medication for it). While this new SNRI medication has helped a great deal with the anxiety, it has caused two notable side effects; brain-zaps and exacerbated tinnitus (ringing/whooshing in the ears – which I’ve had my whole life but would only hear if it was either very quiet, or after being subjected to very loud noise e.g. a concert). The tinnitus is now loud and constant and the brain-zaps are happening several times a day (where before they would happen maybe once a month). NOT GOOD! Also noticed but unconfirmed by my doctor as being related (though I believe it is), my blood pressure is even higher despite the medication that was supposed to help lower it! Both tinnitus and hypertension (high blood pressure) are listed as possible side-effects of SRNIs.
My fear when changing medications again was that I would be faced with the very thing that has happened – side-effects that require further exploration (referral to an ENT (Ear/Nose/Throat) doctor – which could take months – to ensure there is nothing mechanically wrong with my ears) and even worse, more medications – I was told to double the hypertension medication! Neither of these will help the brain-zaps at all.
And so, I’ve come full circle back to the question – might cannabis help me with my mental illness? This last doctor’s visit has solidified my resolve to continue my exploration with cannabis to treat my anxiety (as a first step). Against my doctor’s recommendation, I am going to ween myself off the SNRIs and back onto the SSRIs (my baseline, before side effects). I am not willing to wait for an ENT to tell me that yes, I have tinnitus and no, there is nothing mechanical going on. I do NOT want to double the hypertension medication that was supposed to reduce my high blood pressure.
It is my long-range goal/hope that maybe I can ween myself off of all of it. That’s lofty given the last time I went off my medications without a doctor’s supervision I ended up in a deep depression that lasted months. Then again – cannabis wasn’t really an option then. It is now. And the best part is that, since legalization, I can now do it out in the open without having to suffer the villainization that cannabis has suffered in the past.
If you are looking to start your exploration into cannabis, try the Strainprint app. I have found it an invaluable source for researching ailments, symptoms and strains, as well as tracking my sessions with cannabis. Strainprint is available in the Google Playstore as well as the App Store. Thank you Humble & Fred Radio for recommending this app and for all the great cannabis-related content you’ve provided.
Violence is everywhere. That’s nothing new. What’s new (relatively speaking) are the 24-hour news channels, and online news and social media platforms that put the violence front-and-centre – on repeat!
Setting aside war-related violence, which is beyond tragic and in a category of its own, I’m talking about neighbourhood violence, on the rise everywhere and seemingly out of control! Or, at least it feels that way.
It used to be (in my lifetime, anyway) that one learned about violence on the 6 or 11 o’clock news, or in the newspaper the next day. If the violence was of a particularly tragic, farther-reaching, or brutal nature, there would be a special news report interruption on TV or a newspaper “extra” (which I’ll admit, is a bit before my time).
Nowadays, learning about violence is just a click away.
Innocent, lazy channel surfing lands you on news channels where the story is told over and over, sliced and diced by experts and speculators alike, with up-to-date tragedy stats on a bright red streaming ticker at the bottom of the screen. You quickly click to the next channel or turn the TV off altogether.
Awaken your computer or smart phone to surf social media. Even though you’ve gone to extremes to only follow inspirational, funny or uplifting handles, it’s still there! Inadvertently, you see the violence trending or your inspirational, funny or uplifting handles have shared it.
If you don’t like it, disconnect!
That’s what people say. Even I say it – to others… to myself. But is it realistic? Even doctor’s offices, public transit, and shopping malls have big screen TVs, invariably broadcasting a news channel. What’s a person to do?
Besides, I like channel surfing and watching funny animal videos online. I like the close connection with friends and special interest groups that social media affords. Is it just a case of taking the (sometimes very) bad with the good? How does one measure the benefits of one against the detriments of the other?
As I end this, I remind myself that there is still far more decency than deviance in the world. That while this vitriol on violence was spurred by a shooting in a home not ten minutes from where I live (that I learned about through social media), there are virtually thousands of homes between here and there in which live peaceful, loving families. Just like mine.
When I was little, I used to cry at sirens. Ambulance, police, firetruck. It didn’t matter. And, I heard them a good thirty seconds before my mother did. There I’d be, playing sweetly with my toys while she hung laundry (back in the day when people actually hung laundry). Without warning, I would start screaming, terrified, tears streaming down my plumb, 3-year-old cheeks. The first couple of times I did this, I scared my Mom out of her wits (so she said). Then, while obviously startled by a bout of sudden wailing, Mom understood my fear and gently told me what’s what. That sirens were actually a good thing. They sat atop cars that sped through traffic, charting the fastest route possible to save someone who needed help. Each time, I’m sure I would nod in understanding, trusting her, loving her, hugging her, as the siren faded off into the distance.
Until the next time…
Still, from what I can remember, Mom never got upset with me. She always gently took me to the porch steps, pointed out to nowhere in particular – the expanse of our neighbourhood, I suppose – and explained.
I can’t say exactly when I grew out of this behaviour. My Mom couldn’t remember either. Only that I did eventually grow out of it. To this day though, when I hear a siren, not only am I reminded of the fine first responders who come to every rescue, but I am also reminded of my dear Mom – gone now, just over two years ago – of her patience and love; boundless and genuine. She is forever in my heart.
On June 27th 1956, my brother Michael died due to complications during childbirth.
On June 27th 1956, after 36 hours of hard labour and severe blood loss, my mother almost died too.
In fact, my mother was losing so much blood that it took more pints of blood than the hospital had on hand to keep her alive. After depleting the hospital’s supply, three health-care professionals in the operating room at the time stepped up and donated blood on the spot. Her own physician donated blood WHILE he worked to repair the extensive damage.
My mother survived as a direct result of those individuals who donate blood. Giving selflessly of themselves, they gave my Mother the gift of life!.
After recovering from the loss of her first-born son and her own near-death experience, my mother sought to repay the gift of life that had been bestowed upon her. She gave blood for 45 years, stopping finally when she turned 71, the maximum age for a donor. When we lived in Europe for two years in the early 70’s, she did what was to them, the unthinkable, and donated her blood without solicitation. By this, I mean, she donated without a specific need by a family member or friend, as was and is the custom in some parts of the world. She continued this pattern of walk-in generosity until finally, they opened a small clinic where others could follow her example. And so, she gave the gift of life to others.
Blood! We all have it to give but few of us actually do. Basic eligibility (in Canada) for donating blood is simple. You must be between the ages of 17 and 71, weigh at least 110 lbs and be in general good health. Only a small percentage of the healthy, adult population with basic eligibility go past intention to actually donate blood.
Why don’t more eligible people donate?
FEAR is the number one reason why people don’t donate blood. Fear of needles and/or fear of contracting some disease. Fear of needles is understandable and can be difficult to overcome. Fear of contracting a disease is simply a non-issue because Canadian Blood Services’ and America’s Blood Centers’ trained personnel use only new, sterile needles for each donation.
TIME is the second reason why people don’t donate. Did you know it only takes 1 hour to donate blood? The minimum interval between blood donations is 56 days. If you or a loved one needed blood, would fear or time constraints matter?
How many of you have a story similar to my mother’s or have heard of similar stories, where a friend or relative or a child on the news, received blood as part of a life-saving procedure in the hospital? Now… imagine that blood not being available! Imagine it running out!
My mother is alive today because she received a massive blood transfusion on June 27th 1956. Consequently, I was born and my children were born and some day their children will be born. What a beautiful cascade of life this is, made possible because generous people conquered their fear and overcame their time constraints to donate blood. Don’t wait until you need it, or your parent needs it, or your best friend, or your neighbour needs it.
Find a blood donor clinic in your area! Resolve today to GIVE THE GIFT OF LIFE!
If there’s one claim to fame about the millennium it’s that it birthed “social media”. I’ve been on social media for years. As such, I’ve seen my share of hype. From playful viral pet videos on YouTube to bold-faced racist comments on Twitter. If it’s sensational enough, it will #trend.
The ALS Ice Bucket Challenge is the most recent beneficiary of the phenomena that is social media. I can’t even begin to guess how many videos have been made but I do know that, according to this online Time magazine article, the #ALSIceBucketChallenge has raised over $50 million! It raised over $10 million last Thursday (August 21st alone)!
I don’t know how this makes you feel, but it makes me feel a-MAZE-ing! It restores my faith in humanity. I am part of this incredible community of people, around the whole, entire WORLD, united in a single cause; to bring awareness and provide funds for ALS.
If you haven’t yet done the challenge, please consider doing so. And, if you’re in the need of a good chuckle, have a look at my challenge video. Oh… and don’t forget to donate!
By jesadaphorn, courtesy of freedigitialphotos.net
I’ve had trouble with my weight since puberty. So what else is new. I’m like a million other women with the same challenge. This year, I’ll be turning 50 and as part of this turning of the half-century event, I am also going through symptoms of menopause. Struggle as I have with my weight, I’ve always been all-over large. Gaining weight in the same places over the years as I yo-yo’d up and down on various diets and what-not. But now, I’m gaining weight in places I hadn’t before. Diet and exercise, other than helping to maintain general good health, has done zippo for the weight gain.
So, when I saw a tweet (can’t forget who promoted it and couldn’t find it afterwards) boasting a weight loss supplement endorsed and recommended by #DrOz, I thought, “Well, if Dr. Oz recommends it, it MUST work.”
Yes, I was duped.
The product I fell for (among others I have since learned about) is Garcinia Cambogia. I guess it was the mood I was in but I immediately clicked the link embedded in the tweet with the full (and clearly mindless) intention of purchasing the product. I realize my credibility with you, the reader, is in question here but please believe me when I tell you, I simply do NOT do this.
The website I was taken to had all the typical visual bells and whistles but also had Dr. Oz’s photo as well as his, and many other people’s testimonials. This was not just a miracle supplement, but it was also guaranteed to help you lose weight (10-30 lbs) within 30 days. I did do a bit of research on Cambogia on the internet; plant based diet supplement, fat blocker, ya da ya da – then decided, what the hell, right? Nothing else is working… and, Dr. Oz says….
After I made the purchase (from my smart phone), with promised delivery within 7 days, I received an email confirming my purchase. I waited until I got home to check the order from my laptop. When I clicked the embedded link to view my order – DUPE # 2!… my laptop’s anti-virus security software detected malware, warning me of it with a big red warning and several exclamation points.
Oh HELL no!
I replied to the email immediately to cancel my order. I tried phoning. I tried going to their website and clicking “chat”. NADA. The one saving grace was that my product, after 3 weeks, had not arrived. I called my credit card company and told them about my experience. They were able to trace the company/shipper to China! Needless to say, there was no mention of China on this seemingly American-based product website (even had the little American flag at the top-right of the screen). In any case, my credit card company immediately reversed the charge. I got my money back. *Whew*. Case closed.
About another 2 weeks later, I got another email from said company saying the product had shipped. I checked my credit card to ensure I hadn’t been charged again. All was clear. Sure enough, another 2 weeks later, I got a bottle of Garcinia Cambogia in the mail. I kept checking my credit card for charges. None made.
Well, I thought, I have the bottle, I might as well try it. I read the label and checked the ingredients and potency and all that. Seemed ok. I started taking 1 capsule per day… and awaited my miracle. In a part of my mind I still held some hope out for what Dr. Oz had claimed. (And in your mind you’re thinking, “Is this chick stupid, or what?” More like a bit desperate.)
Besides giving me incredible gas and loose stools, Garcinia Cambogia failed to do one damned thing that it claimed to do.
The intelligent, professional woman in me calmly states, “Not at all surprised.” The overweight, low-self-esteem woman in me simply shakes her head and says, “You brought this upon yourself, you idiot.”
Until this past week, I had no idea that Dr. Oz was under scrutiny at a U.S Senate hearing. In a way, while humbled by my own stupidity, I was happy to hear that I wasn’t alone in believing in Dr. Oz enough to purchase a product based solely on his emphatic endorsements. On the other hand, I’m angry as hell and delighted to see him squirm in front of the U.S. Senate.
I was duped by Dr. Oz. It was my own damned fault for being so naive, I know that. Still, where do I sign up for a class action suit against this guy?
Cascading Insights 