At my small town school, I was bombarded with those god-awful health class videos about drugs, drinking, and peer pressure.
You know the videos I’m talking about. Or maybe you don’t. The plot went something like this: Timmy didn’t smoke a joint, but he hung out after class with a friend that took one drag of the devil’s lettuce. THEN THEY ALL FUCKING DIED.
Naturally, after many years of learning by fear, I promised to say no to drugs, alcohol, and cigarettes. The adults were sufficiently pleased that I was terrified of anything and everything rolled up in paper and set on fire. That I looked down on kids who questioned authority and experimented was an added bonus for them, I suppose.
I’m bringing up this part of my insular past because it has influenced my decision to apply for medical marijuana to treat fibromyalgia—a decision that gives me some anxiety. Though I’m no longer worried that looking at a joint will kill me and everyone I love, I have reason to believe that some people I care about (and plenty of people I don’t care about) will think me irresponsible, lazy, depraved, and forsaken by God.
But I feel strongly that to remove the social stigma associated with the use of marijuana, we all need to start talking about it like the legitimate alternative it is. More on that in future posts.
Support Em’s Med Cannabis Application Fund on GoFundMe.