I just read through all the posts on this thread. I see a lot of emotional pain suffered by many of you. Physical pain too.
And I feel for ya. Just keep on keeping on brotha's and sisters. It's all we can do.
Really don't know which one is harder to deal with. I've been able to shut down some horrific physical pain in my day, ya know, the kind that makes ya pass out?
I started in 1969 out of curiosity and have been involved in more aspects of the plant than you can imagine. From both sides of the Law.
I smoke it now because I cannot handle pharmy's and I still suffer from pain.
Excruciating pain, bone and nerve damage from a variety of incidents. Swear to dog it's true. Here's a picture of just one of my many brushes with the Reaper. Did you know that he has a first name? Swear it's the truth.. We've hung out a time or two and me being the hardheaded, oxygen lovin Jarhead that I am, well sir, let's just say Him and I have come to an agreement of sorts.
Now when I was seven my mother died. I was the middle son and my baby sister was 1 yr old. And my old man was the meanest friggin drunk in a 5 state area. Six foot 7 and a rock solid 270. For some reason my father never really did like me. I'm the only one that went to a school with black eyes or busted lips from what I would claim were falls or clumsiness. Worst time I failed to pick up my younger brother from one of his friends house. When I did walk in, my old man knocked out all my front teeth, uppers and lowers, with a sucker punch. Dropped me like a sack of potatoes. When I got up off the floor I gathered a few things threw em in a garbage sack and went to the hospital to get my mouth fixed.
I finished high school living with a variety of friends. Moving from couch to couch. House to house. Longest I stayed with one friend was a month. Graduated early and signed up with the Corps and got my act together, mentally and physically. Spent the next 27 years in and only went to my fathers house once since he dropped me. I believe I was 24 at the time. I simply rang his doorbell and when he answered the door I began to beat the living shit out this Sonafabitch. He went down and I kept at it til felt the shot and heard the boom.
His girlfriend popped me with a friggin 9. Went to court, did some time served, got into a shitload of trouble with the Corps but worked things out. Courts Martial, lost rank and pay and restricted to base for 6 months.
But you know what? I always had a little bit of the good shit. I could always get "da Kine" if you know what I mean (wink, wink).
Now I use it to help with the physical pain and the mental strain. And I get very creative when I'm HIGH. I chase that damn buzz 19, 20 hours a day. I'm lit from the time I roll outta my bed til I flop back down to sleep. And I get a lot of shit done. Red ain't got no "Honey-Do" list for me. It's usually done before she gets up.
No matter the reason you use the plant, know this,,,,,
You have receptors built into your brain to absorb the cannabinoids.
Not for Alcohol. Not tobacco. Not pharmy's.
Imagine that, receptors built into your brain just waiting for you to deliver the goodies. And only one way to do it. Cannabis.
Sorry for the long ass winnded prattle, I have warned all that the thoughts in my head are a dangerous thing.
My name is Boomer and yes, I get HIGH.