When we put down alcohol, because we are alcoholics, we know that we can never pick it back up. And when we stop smoking POT we also know that we can never smoke again.
Times are changing, and the rules of engagement are also changing.
Living with AIDS for so long, in the very first few months, I was given medicinal marijuana because I was told that it would help me eat and bulk up, and not waste away and die.
So I smoked up.
When I stopped drinking – I had to stop smoking and using recreational drugs as well. Until the day my slip began, and I picked up and began using again, only that time, the using was far worse and had serious consequences when I was done.
When I finally relented and stopped drinking, I had not smoked a joint for over a year, the drink still existed, until December of 2001.
Fast Forward to 5:30 a.m. this morning.
I had gone through hubby’s backpack a couple of hours earlier, and found a zip bag, with all the accoutrements a good pot smoker would have.
As his caregiver, when his behavior changes and he becomes despondent and catatonic sitting in the same room, I needed to figure out what was going on.
He’s just been stoned …
When we met and began co-habitating, we got rid of copious amounts of empty beer bottles and all the pot rollers, papers and assorted other things.
Color me surprised when I made this find earlier this morning.
I was LIVID …
Hubby is smoking. He made an executive decision for himself, assuming that because I was clean and sober, that I would judge him and condemn his using, and toss his shit down the toilet. That was my first word in fact. Toss It …
He did not TRUST me.
Since he kept this a secret, I was absolutely angry and pissed off.
I tried to go back to bed, but only tossed and turned. He got up to pee at 5:30 and I called him into the living room and lit into him like a madman.
Words were said. Threats were made. Tears were shed.
Many years ago, in the beginning of his Bi-Polar disorder, he was drugged heavily for ten months until we found the mix that worked. During that time, the drugs emasculated him, robbed him of who he was, and left me with someone I did not know on the back end.
I had to mourn that loss, and decided to stick and stay, because I remembered who he was.
Over the last two or so years, his shrink has been trying to get him off all those pills and to give him back some of his “Self.” That has only worked so far.
Hubby found that the odd joint, now and then, made a real difference in his Bi-Polar state (read: manic depression) and his mental functionality, so he kept smoking.
He did this by himself, here at home, when I was not here.
We have a funny service in Montreal. Pot Delivery systems. You call, they deliver.
I’ve heard of this service from some of my guys before who used it themselves.
I may be clean and sober, that doesn’t mean I am a flag toting militant judgmental prick.
I think, when circumstances warrant, and choices of what we want to do for our personal health and well being, that decision IS up to US, and nobody else. Who am I to judge?
If that time came for me, I would want the same latitude and acceptance of the choices I make when the time came. I know, I am not going to mt death miserable and shitting in a diaper, nor deluded with dementia. I have already chosen my exit plan.
What was I supposed to say, after hearing his explanation of why he made that choice, and what it means to his mental functionality and his happiness ?
Our Canadian Government is on track to legalize POT across the board in the next few month hopefully. But medicinal marijuana is available here in Montreal.
One can get a compassionate use card from Health Canada, and you can order pot online and have it sent to you through Canada Post.
There is no shame in being KIND and UNDERSTANDING.
Times are changing in many places, and we have to be accepting of those changes, knowing full well, that I cannot drink or smoke. Again.
In the end this is a Page 417 issue …
ACCEPTANCE IS THE KEY TO ALL MY PROBLEMS.