The Truth about Miss Mary Jane

You know what I don’t get? The hype about getting high. I really don’t. I’ve been high before — twice — unfortunately my curiosity of seeing what getting high off “mary jane” was like over powered my values I had since sixth grade. But I guess growing up is also experimenting. And let me tell you, I experimented, and I hate it.

First of all, it tastes disgusting. Literally like someone shit into your mouth, while simultaneously setting your lungs on fire. While you hunch over deciding whether or not you may die because you can’t breathe for 15 minutes, the burning feeling goes away. And yes, I admit, you feel “mellow” and everything seems cooler and tastes better, I understand where the munchies part comes from because I ate my weight in marshmallows afterwards. But after that, there’s nothing. It’s not some epiphany, it’s not some revolutionary thing, so why is it so “cool”?

And why is it such a recreational thing? Rarely now you can go to a party without some jackass pulling out a blunt, bong or papers. People stupidly believe that “oh hey, it’s just a herb, it’s part of nature” … okay, if it’s part of nature, why don’t you just smoke some grass and tree leaves while you’re at it? Since you’re just smoking up some nature! Let me tell you, I work in a mental hospital, adult psychiatry to be specific. 9 times out of 10, the people in the hospital have canabis-induced-psychosis, now boys and girls, do you know what that means?

The weed fucked you up. Literally. To the point you’re psychotic. Oh I know I’m going to hear “Oh I don’t do it that often” that doesn’t mean anything, every body and mind is different. Just because Bob over here smokes 5 blunts a day and he’s doing pretty good, doesn’t mean you’ll be fine with you getting high once a week. We are not programmed the same, if we were we would all have the exact same diseases and our bodies would react the same to everything. My cousin’s schizophrenia came out when he turned 18, because he started smoking “mary jane” at 14. It took time, but it got there, and now he can’t live without anti-psychotics and have normal life. (PS, there’s actual research linking marijuana to the neurotransmitters involved with schizophrenia, just so you know.)

And this whole thing about “oh it’s not a gateway drug”… Yes, yes it is. It’s just like when you first start drinking — you don’t go straight for a 50 year old whiskey or burbon. No, you start with fruity shots like broken down golf-carts, or sugar-induced alcohol like bellini’s. The same applies. You start “soft”, and then after awhile, it gets boring. Because it IS boring. So you look for something else, maybe something like mushrooms, or acid. Try that for awhile, meh not quite the same effect. Maybe I’ll smoke some coke… proceeds into snort, etc, etc, etc. It snowballs, and if you think otherwise I’m sorry, you’re being narrow-minded because I’m naive and even I know this bullshit, not from experience thank god but from others such as family, patients (mentally ill people, literally telling me not to fuck up my life and do something as stupid as weed), or seen it with friends (remember Arie? She started with alcohol, then weed, and now she does a bunch of rave drugs).

So if you want my sincere advice? Don’t do it. Unless you’re trying to induce an asthma attack and feel chill for awhile (why not sit in a hot tub in a steam room, probably has the same effect). If you want to get high, get a good high. Go do something spontaneous, with adrenaline. I promise you that will be the best high of your life. Or do something good for someone. Use your drug money and buy a homeless man a meal — chances are he was you, starting with weed a few years back. Or if you don’t want to help the homeless, donate it to a charity. People are fighting for their lives and you’re being selfish enough to purposely poison yourself.

If you’re being pressured into doing it by your friends, walk away. I understand it’s easier said than done, but if they don’t accept your decision of staying away from it, then honestly, they’re not your friends. Misery loves company.

With Love,
Jo

confessions from a teenager: body image sucks

Good Morning Everyone! It’s hump day! (unlike Fergie-Ferg in “my humps”, hump day here is related to that it is Wednesday, half way to Friday! Just in case you didn’t know.)

I woke up this morning and my first thought was “I have to pee”. Which, I presume is a very common first thought for a lot of people who like me, hold their bladders until the morning to where they might burst. However, my second thought was “today will be a good day!” I have super girlie plans to go get my nails done with my friend, Kallie (name changed here), meet her adorable new puppy, catch up on some 90210 and then hopefully see the wonderful NK later this evening. 

I haven’t always woken up this optimistic however, a few years back it was actually pretty difficult to get up. Not a lot of people know this, and I never posted it on my old blog for the fear of being judged but through most of high school I struggled with an eating disorder. I wasn’t diagnosed, I didn’t go to rehab or a clinic, and it didn’t consume my life but it affect my self-esteem greatly. I guess I should rewind to explain.

 

Everyone has ugly years (whether it be physically ugly, or psychologically you think you’re ugly). It’s fact. If you don’t believe me, go back and look at your photo albums growing up and you will see that for a period of time (mostly through horrid puberty), you probably didn’t look your best. Mine were from age 11 to about… age 14-15. But this is besides the point: my eating disorder.

I had always been a thin girl growing up, growing taller faster than anyone resulting in looking lanky like a washboard. It was in grade 5 (again, early than everyone) that I started to get what every girl wanted, BOOBS. And they were — and still are — awesome. However, as I progressed through puberty, I went into high school and started seeing how flawless everyone looked. Looking back, I really wasn’t overweight I was actually quite healthy in terms of weight but I felt disgusting. I wanted to be perfect, I wanted to fit in. I would be bubbly, energetic and happy at school but I would come home and look in the mirror and pick apart everything I wanted to change about myself, so I started purging (which is just as ugly and gross as it sounds). I would come home, eat whatever I wanted but then feel gross and disgusting so I made myself throw it up. I had seen the idea on a movie or TV show and decided it was the best way to make everyone think I was okay while losing weight. The first purge was in February of 2010 I believe, my Grade 11 year. This continued on and off until July 2010, when my best friends mom saw me and said “wow, Jo you look way too skinny, I’m worried about you.”  I laughed and pretended it was nothing, but I went home that night and thought “what the heck am I doing to myself.” For a long time I sat on my washroom floor staring at my floor-length mirror at myself. I stood up to take a look, and I knew there was something wrong when I was in fact, skinny (again, not that being overweight was ever an actual problem) but thought I still wasn’t good enough. I was lucky to get this insight that I was not okay, that I needed to stop. And stop I did. It was hard, and even to this day almost three years later I’ll find myself subconsciously looking in the mirror thinking I’m not good enough (which I then realize what I’m doing, and tell myself something I love about myself).

You may ask, why did I never seek out help? Well, you see, amongst my friends and family I am the rock — the strong one, if you must. I hold everyone together. I can give advice to any problem, I’m the shoulder to cry on and I was deathly afraid of being vulnerable in front of these people — especially my mom who always depended on my for her breakdowns. It was hard to be alone, and I have told some people about what happened after it passed who thankfully, just hugged me and told me that they loved me and I was going to be okay. 

Looking back now, I realize how scary things could have gotten for me if I hadn’t had the strength and willpower to stop what I had started. But being a teenager (be it boy or girl) is scary, the peer pressure, the thought that you have to be perfect. It’s a very evident struggle, especially in society today where we are showered with advertisements filled with perfect looking models, and TV shows with flawless looking girls. 

But if you are struggling (or even not struggling), just know you are NEVER alone and you will get through it. You are beautiful and one of a kind. Don’t change your body to be like someone else, because you can only be you and there is nothing wrong with that. It will be hard, and you will feel alone. But remember that the moment is just now, not the rest of your life — there is so much more out here in the world than trying to be perfect and thin, and you were placed here for a reason. You could change the world! 

Keep the peace with your body, mind and soul.
with love,
Jo