“Chronic pain may bend you. But it doesn’t have the right to break you.”

-This Puzzled Life

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Call the ancestors. Because we’re about to talk Chronic Pain Awareness Month in a way only a Deep South Mississippi mama with three chaotic cats and a cannabis prescription from the universe can.

Let me set the scene. I’m sitting on my porch. Humidity thick enough to baptize a biscuit. And trying to write something meaningful about Chronic Pain Awareness Month. This month exists because millions of us walk around every day with pain that doesn’t clock out. Doesn’t take PTO. And sure, as hell doesn’t care that we have laundry, children, jobs, and a cat named Piper who believes gravity is optional.

Chronic Pain Awareness Month is recognized to shine a big ol’ spotlight on the folks who live with pain that lasts longer than a bad relationship. It’s about education, advocacy, and reminding the world that chronic pain isn’t “just in your head.” Though, Lord knows it does take up mental real estate like an ex who won’t return your Tupperware. And the cats have something to say.

Piper, leaping onto the table: “Are you writing about your pain again? Because if you need help, I can knock something off the counter. It’s therapeutic.”

Coco, judging from the armchair: “Honestly, Mama, chronic pain should be scared of you. You survived Mississippi summers, two boys, and me. You’re basically immortal.”

Tinkerbell, serene as a yoga instructor who charges too much: “Pain is temporary. Snacks are eternal.”

And then, because they’re my cats, they all sniff my cannabis jar like it’s the Holy Grail.

Piper: “Is this the medicine that makes you stop yelling at the air?”

 Me: “Yes, baby. Mama’s plant-based peace treaty.” 

Coco: “It smells like you’re about to forget what you were mad about.” 

Tinkerbell: “It smells like enlightenment.”

Listen. I tried the pills. I tried the creams. I tried the stretches that made me look like a confused possum. But cannabis? Cannabis said, “Come here. Let me loosen that spine like a church lady’s wig in a windstorm.”

It didn’t cure me. But it gave me relief. Real relief. The kind that lets you breathe again. The kind that lets you laugh again. The kind that lets you sit on the porch and watch the sunset without feeling like your bones are auditioning for a horror movie. My cats fully support this journey. Mostly because they think my grinder is a toy.

People are suffering quietly. Pain steals joy, time, energy, and sometimes hope. Because folks deserve access to treatment, including cannabis, without stigma. Chronic pain warriors are some of the strongest people walking this earth. And they deserve recognition, support, and a soft place to land.

So, here’s to Chronic Pain Awareness Month. To the warriors, the survivors, the folks who keep going even when their bodies act like they’re held together with dollar-store tape. To cannabis, my little green miracle. To my cats, who think they’re emotional support animals. But are really just chaos with whiskers. And to you reading this. Living this. And surviving this. Pain may be loud. But your resilience is louder.

Affirmation: I honor my body. I honor my journey. And I deserve relief, rest, and joy.

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#ThisPuzzledLife