This Puzzled Life is a mental health and recovery blog exploring addiction, trauma healing, LGBTQ experiences, humor, and the strange moments that shape us.
“Two wrongs don’t make a right, but two joints made my night.”
-Unknown
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Okie dokie! Today, I’m going to review strains that go along with Pride. Since I’m a lesbian, it wouldn’t be nice of me not to mention the part of the parade that I enjoy watching. It’s the “Dykes On Bikes” portion of the parade where some of the most masculine lesbians ride through on their motorcycles. And I assure you that your fragile masculinity could be smashed by some of these ladies. “Lady Lesbians Of The Bikes” I honor you with the cannabis strain with the Blues Brothers’s Label: Motorbreath.
This greasy, yet sexy, hybrid strain was actually named from a song called Motorbreath on Metallica’s 1983 album Kill’Em All. The diesel taste feels like it would be better suited on their Garage Days album. Anyway, what a pleasant surprise to find out those origins that lead back to my favorite heavy metal band of all time, Metallica. The nostalgia of this entire product just floods me with so many good memories. Because the taste will take you back, while the effects wrap you up.
Jim Belushi and Dan Aykroyd actually own Blues Brothers brand. John Belushi was a comedian and actor who traveled with Dan Aykroyd and performed as Jake and Elwood Blues. John Belush eventually died of a drug overdose. And his brother has been building a cannabis business in his honor. Jim Belushi stated in his reality program Belushi Farms, “Had my brother had access to medical cannabis, he would still be alive.”
This strain while definitely “stinky,” with some diesel fumes isn’t as heavy as the GMO strain. And it is ever since of the word “hybrid.” It feels like a sativa until the gassy, indica back end catches you. The strain has a lineage of Chemdog and SFV OG KUSH (San Fernando Valley). This would be a good strain for a lunch break if you can tolerate the indica effects. It’s used for chronic pain and stress. I think that it’s a strain for beginner or moderate users. And more of a “chill” strain for us experienced users. However, at 28.4% THC it won’t take long before it disables you for your entire lunch break. An Absolutely great hybrid in my book. The terpene profile is Caryophyllene, Myrcene and Limonene. This indica-dominant hybrid is definitely 4.25 out of 5 on the rating scale. A uniquely beautiful strain that will help many people no matter where on the continuum you reside. Way to go Blues Brothers!
“Dykes On Bikes” comeback you forgot your diesel! Happy Pride, everyone!
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Okie dokie! As today begins the month of Gay Pride, it would almost be considered disrespectful if I didn’t mention that it’s also the first day of Hurricane Season. Having been through one of the most destructive hurricanes to hit the United States, Hurricane Katrina is one that I could talk about through the end of the season and beyond.
While those beautiful colored flags are the most gorgeous rainbows, hurricane season is something that can take my natural giddy self and change it instantly to serious. If you have lived through violent thunderstorms and tornadoes of the spring, then you know just what I’m talking about. And this year has led me to question whether “tornado alley” borders are being redefined. So far this year mother nature has already begun to stretch her meteorological legs and doing the jet stream dance.
Tornadoes, in an of themselves, are extremely scary no matter what part of the country nor how large the debris field. They show up sometimes with little warning to quickly demolish anything in its path. And there have been many times within the last few years where I decided to stay in my little habitat for the sake of my cats Tink and Coco. And when they decide to take cover because they hear rain drop, I’m usually left to fend for myself.
Hurricanes are quite literally “The Wrath of God.” Well, at least it was during Hurricane Katrina. Things you learn to do when these types of weather patterns that we see in the deep south, is to always be prepared. That means batteries, bottled water, canned goods, propane, charcoal, candles, and hopefully working chargers. Our local news station never forgets to tell us about the importance of helmets and coloring books for the kids. And before you ask, yes, I do have fun in the live chat while watching the coverage.
The Weather Channel seems to be a staple for living in the southern United States. I know one thing without a doubt, if Jim Cantore shows up in your area, RUN!
Five months out of the year are dedicated to constantly checking hurricanes and projected paths. The memories of the chaos of Hurricane Katrina made me experience a fear that can’t be explained in words and sentences. It’s a fear that you come to understand when you experience it. As the stories told by my grandmother and parents about Hurricane Camille, I was very intrigued. And there was the time when I said, “I want to be able to experience a major hurricane.” I’ve always been interested in the science of weather. But the adage, “Careful what you wish for” couldn’t have made anymore sense once it was all said and done.
The weather is just the beginning. What those on the outside need to understand is that it’s after the storm that is so traumatic. I know that New Orleans got the major news coverage during the hurricane. However, here in Mississippi was horrible in different ways. If you’ve never been unable to meet basic needs for living, without power, without air conditioning, gas pipes busted, sewage manholes overflowing, no running toilets, no cell phones, no access to ice, no access to money, food starts rotting, the massive mosquitoes, and above all, the heat. And we live 60 miles north of the coastline. Casino barges, pieces of interstates, highways, entire streets, mausoleum opened bodies and caskets strewn, slabs where houses once stood and the majority of the landscape resembling something created by “Little Boy” and “Fat Man.” You cannot begin to realize how deadly mother nature can be.
As we face another year of these types of storms, start preparing now. Because when you wait until it’s more convenient, retailers will be sold out. And though it’s been 20 years since Katrina, when I woke up this morning a cold chill went straight down my spine as I remember how very scary and destructive she was. Let us all never forget how dangerous weather can be. And let us never forget the names that have been retired because of the deadly, long lasting physical, structural and psychological effects that they have left on this nation. I remember them by name Katrina, Andrew, Sandy, Rita, Harvey, Irma, Maria, Michael, Ivan, Beryl, Helene, Milton, Betsy, Camille, Frederick, Galveston Hurricane 1900, The Atlantic-Gulf Hurricane 1919, Great Miami Hurricane 1926, San Felipe-Okeechobee Hurricane 1928, Labor Day Hurricane 1935, New England Hurricane 1938, The Great Atlantic Hurricane 1944 and many others. Thanks for reading! Stay safe! Keep Smiling! And HAPPY PRIDE!
Affirmation: I have faced fiercer storms and survived them all.
“Do not allow people to dim your shine because they are blinged. Tell them to put on some sunglasses, because we were born this way.”
-Lady Gaga
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Okie dokie! You know what today is? I’ll give you a hint. It’s my favorite time of the year. IT”S GAY PRIDE MONTH! Everyone fly those flags and love who you love. I think those who are new to the pride family and are newly allied deserve to know just why we love pride month so much.
On June 28, 1969 (no pun intended), the NYPD raided the Stonewall Inn. Raids at gay bars where the patrons and employees inside were interrogated while a crowd gathered outside. The sum of everyone fought back, and police barricaded themselves in the Stonewall Inn. The mob’s resistance went on all night, and continued for days in protests across New York City.
A year later in June 1970 activists marched throughout the streets to commemorate the riots. It was called the Christopher Street Liberation Day where sparsely attended and encountered protests because of the outlandish costumes that some marchers wore.and is known as the first Pride Parade. Other pride celebrations were in cities like Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Chicago (bryanuniversity.edu, 2024). Pride is used to describe the community’s solidarity, identity and resistance to discrimination (britannica.com, 2025).
In 1978, the symbol representing Gay Pride first made its debut in San Francisco. It was the rainbow flag. The original flag consisted of eight colors (hot pink-sexuality, red-life, orange-healing, the sun-yellow, green-nature, blue-art, indigo-harmony and violet for spirit). The colors were tweaked a bit because of the unavailability of fabric colors. The demonstrations focused on participants’ being proud to be out of the closet regarding individual freedom and diversity of the LGBTQ community.
In the 1980’s, after the spreading of AIDS, pride events focused on the social issues of the time. The LBGTQ community increased among the straight community, politician sympathies and gay-friendly businesses and corporations began participating in the marches. The popularity began spreading across the globe. Large cities such as Amsterdam, Chicago, London, Mexico City, New York, Paris, San Francisco and Sao Paulo attract several hundred thousand to more than a million annually. Stiff resistance in Jerusalem, Moscow and Warsaw but pride has still continued.
The groups of people who identified as gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender or queer who felt empathy and solidarity based on shared experiences of prejudice, discrimination and disrespect or awareness of oppression were all included in the acronym LGBTQ. The acronym has again changed to include those who are “questioning,” “intersex,” and “agender” to LGBTQIA or LGBTQ+ (britannica.com, 2025).
In 1999, President Bill Clinton officially declared June as Gay and Lesbian Pride month. In 2009, President Barack Obama named it Lesbian, Gay, bisexual, and Trangender Pride Month. In 2016, President Obama designed the Stonewall Inn and the surrounding area as a national museum. And it was the first national monument that honored LGBTQ+ rights (bryanuniversity.edu, 2024). However, there is still the ongoing fight for equality and inclusion.
As of 2015, the Supreme Court ruled in Obergefell v. Hodges that same-sex couples have the right to marry in all 50 states. The ruling also declared that same-sex couples have the same rights under the law as opposite-sex couples. This includes Social Security, health insurance and retirement savings. Most Americans agree that legalizing same-sex marriage is good for society.
In 2017, our country and communities witnessed the protections for LGBTQ people across the entire federal government. While President Biden reversed many of those attacks, Trump promised to go back even further on LGBTQ rights if re-elected. And sadly that has happened. Project 2025, has removed anti-discrimination policies. And on day one of his current presidency he began to eliminate protections for transgender students. This began to strip LGBTQ individuals of protections against discrimination in many areas including employment, housing, education, healthcare, and other federal programs. And to date has kicked many transgender military personnel of their livelihood (aclu.org, 2025).
Ask yourself, “how does gender identity determine when, where and how your “battle buddy” pulls a trigger? Aren’t our troops, regardless of how they identify, fighting for the freedoms of the same nation? Trangender soldiers are of no significant threat to anyone else in the military. Because when it comes down to protecting my six, it doesn’t matter how someone identifies in gender or sexuality, if the trigger gets pulled and I live to fight for freedom another day.
Our fight for equality will continue just like it began. We will be loud and proud no matter what our government or religion does to try and destroy our pride. We will be there with our colors on challenging everyone that there be justice for all. The LGBTQ communities will continue to demand that we be included in the preamble of the constitution which reads, “WE THE PEOPLE OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.” Stonewall will never die! Thanks for reading! Happy Pride Everyone!
“If I wait for someone else to validate my existence, it will mean that I’m short changing myself.”
“This is how betrayal starts…not with big lies, but with small secrets.”
-Shalini Joshi
Now let’s continue…
Lisa did update us on Kathleen’s self-harm issue that had begun to dissipate. And now she was also in therapy. I always asked about how the therapy was going because I hadn’t left my abusive therapist yet. So, I became very protective when it came to that topic. She would always put my fears to rest by telling me that she had a great therapist that really knew how to work with Kathleen.
Landri would also have a big scare with her heart that left her almost completely bed bound. She had become so weak that she could no longer support her own weight. But eventually she would regain her strength. Slowly but surely, she wasn’t so pale. She was beginning to put on weight, and it looked really good on her. And then she started getting out and walking. They had moved onto the same military base as us. They lived only about 6-7 houses down the street.
We had not been around them in a little while due to our own issues with my mental health. And I had already begun living life in solitude where I would remain for the next few years. One day I had gone out to check the mail when I saw someone walking towards me on the sidewalk. I soon realized that it was Landri. I spoke to her and told her how good she looked and how happy I was for her. We made a very superficial conversation because I was in a very deep depression at the time. The following is the last conversation that she and I would have together. And it continues to haunt me to this day.
Landri: “Dana, I’m scared of Lisa.”
Me: “What do you mean you’re scared?”
Landri: “I don’t really want to go into our personal problems, but she’s become very aggressive.”
Me: “Wait! Do I need to throw some aggression her way?”
Landri: “No, that would just make it worse. Just remember what I’m telling you.”
Me: “Ok. Promise me that if you need us you will call.”
Landri: “No, it’s nothing like that. She’s just spent all of our money on drugs. And she doesn’t like me questioning her about any of it.”
Me: “Ok. Well, we are here to help if you need us.”
Landri: “Thank you so much for being such good friends.”
She had convinced me enough to pacify my obsessive nature when someone is being dominated. I also understood how telling someone about a perpetrator can make the situation worse. And coming from a domestic violence situation I felt that fear for her. Later that day when Mel got home from work, I told her about the situation. She was likewise just as perplexed as I was. I told her everything from beginning to end about our encounter. She agreed with me to stay out of the situation. And to just be available if necessary.
A week later, Landri was dead. She apparently died in her sleep. But now that conversation that was stuck on replay was never-ending. I didn’t know what to do as the news completely stunned me. I told her to find out funeral arrangements. I couldn’t let the thought go that, “Lisa just murdered one of our closest friends.” I would battle in my mind thinking, “That’s absurd to think that we would be as close to a situation that was that dangerous and not know something was wrong.” And it has always been rebuttaled with the very conversation that we had asking me not to get involved.
Mel came in from work a few days later and said, “You’re not going to believe what I’m about to tell you.” I said, “Ok well that’s not a good sign.” She very begrudgingly said, “Lisa has already had her cremated.” I scream, “WTF?!” And I began shaking. It was then that I realized that there was a high likelihood that Landri was murdered. It was difficult for me to look Lisa in the face the next time we saw her. Mel asked, “Lisa, what happened?” She begins telling us the story that she had become very weak, very quickly. And how they were laying in their bed together and they both took a nap. But when Lisa woke up, Landri was dead. I told her, “I just saw Landri several days ago and she looked the best I’ve ever seen her.” Lisa said, “Yea the doctors said that sudden death was a possibility.” I didn’t tell her what Landri herself told me. And without warning Lisa and Kathleen moved away and weren’t answering us in any way.
We had gone to the local library where we were known frequently. Mel tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Look who’s here.” I turned around and I must’ve turned white. We saw Lisa and Kathleen before they saw us. Kathleen wasn’t in a wheelchair. But when we made eye contact, we saw Lisa mumble something to Kathleen. She was just super excited to see us. And then her demeanor turned very solemn.
That situation was many years back now. Mel and the boys moved back to Mississippi. And I moved to Texas to work with “coach” on my PTSD issues. While living out there Mel called me one day and said, “You’ll never guess who I talked to.” Agreeing with her I said, “Probably not. What’s up?” Me said, “I just got off the phone with Kathleen.” I said, “Shut up! What’s going on with her?” Mel told me, “Well, she said that Lisa had made everything up about her military and EMT service. And that neither Kathleen nor Landri had a terminal condition. She was starving them. That’s why Kathleen passed out so much and broke bones. Lisa is now homeless. And Kathleen has moved on with her life complete with therapy.” It took me a few minutes to respond because those horrible gut feelings began flooding every part of me. Several years had gone by since that horrible situation but it still stung with great ferocity. I told Mel, “You know it’s bothered me ever since about that we seemed to know the truth. If it doesn’t seem right, it probably isn’t right.” She said, “Yea, but what proof did we have at the point when we thought that? We couldn’t just go into the police station and talk to a detective only to say, “Well we don’t have evidence, but I do have a gut feeling. They couldn’t exhume the body because it was cremated.” And the words that my ex-husband repeatedly said to me, “Nobody will believe you. You’re the one with the mental problems” kept me silent once again.
Nothing has ever been proven or investigated related to that situation. One of the many things that has continued to plague my mind is the fact that we left our oldest baby in their care so that we could actually go on a much-needed date. They baby sat Marshall many, many times. If something had happened to him, I would’ve killed her without a second thought. Some of my “mommy guilt” about being a parent holds space for the event that taught me that evil is still alive and well in this world. I don’t wish her death. But I do wish her a miserable existence until the end of time. She didn’t care about our child or our family. But what was the saddest was that she didn’t care about her own family.
At the same time, I was dealing with another “friend” who was also very manipulative. And I was also being abused by my therapist. After all of this, I lost my damn mind. The first thing I remember writing about this was the poem titled Silent Screams. The only way that I get through another day with the constant barrage of memories about this situation is to give myself grace in the fact that everything was so hidden in a tangled web of lies. She was a manipulator that was even more skilled than my ex-husband. I think that my anger around this is about the fear that I experienced after realizing how much time Marshall had spent in their care. There is a certain amount of grief that comes from losing those relationships. We lost what we thought “was” instead of what it “wasn’t.
Munchausen by Proxy is actually pretty rare. Unless,of course, it’s happening to you. I recently got interested in the case of Gypsy Rose. She was also at the mercy of her mother who had Munchausen by Proxy. Except that Gypsy Rose murdered her mom and subsequently went to prison. She served her time and is now out of prison. She has talked about all of the unnecessary treatments and procedures that she had to go through for absolutely no reason. And so did Kathleen.
I don’t advocate murder. However, through the many years of trauma at the hands of some truly evil people, I can’t totally understand the rationale. Lisa was still allowed to live her life. She has nothing but one tooth and her lies that are continuing to be spread onto other unsuspecting victims. The thoughts and feelings that have stayed with me since that day are forever in my mind.” Again, it’s just another traumatic event that has taught me to question everyone’s motives including friends and especially family. I’ve never thought that I should require proof of terminal illness or military service. But maybe I should.
“But the memories that hang heaviest are the easiest to recall. They hold in their creases the ability to change one’s life, organically, forever. Even when you shake them out, they’ve left permanent wrinkles in the fabric of your soul.”
-Julie Gregory
Affirmation: “I am strong and can overcome the influence of manipulative individuals.”
“Munchausen by Proxy may be the single most complex and lethal form of maltreatment known today.”
-Julie Gregory, Sickened: The True Story of a Lost Childhood
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Today, I want to talk to you about a serious mental health disorder known as Munchausen Syndrome. I know that this is a topic that a lot of people like to sweep under the rug because it just seems too grotesque and unimaginable to talk about. However, the fact is that the disorder remains alive and well in some individuals. And the signs and symptoms are hidden in plain sight.
Munchausen and Munchausen by Proxy fit under the diagnostic criteria for Factitious Disorder. A Factitious disorder is a conscious and intentional feigning or production of symptoms due to a psychological need to take on the sick role in order to obtain an emotional gain. This is not to be mistaken with Hypochondriasis. Which is an obsession with fears that one has a serious, undiagnosed disease. The symptoms are not created consciously (nih.gov, 2006).
Munchausen Syndrome is still considered to be the most extreme form of factitious disorder. They intentionally deceive others by pretending to be sick. They fake symptoms or make symptoms seem worse than they actually are. And speaking to them you would think that they are an endless pit of medical knowledge. What they do is produce some medical or psychological problems and study everything they can find on it until they’re comfortably able to construct an ongoing story.
Munchausen by Proxy is where the behavior is imposed onto another person. The biggest factor in keeping their narratives alive is manipulation. And they are exceptionally good at it. My exposure to Munchausen by Proxy has left me with a lot of shame, guilt, regret and suicidal ideations. I have tried to extend myself “grace” about this situation knowing that had I understood the harsh reality sooner, I could’ve done something about it.
When we moved to Albuquerque, NM we found us a lesbian group that became our home for a short while. Mel and I had dreams and aspirations of being parents one day which eventually distanced us from them. But not before we met Lisa, Landri and Kathleen. “Two moms and a child? We’ve totally got to meet them!” I told Mel. It didn’t take us long to realize that we had more in common with this family than realized. Lisa, who was clearly a “top” and the strong family leader, told us that they were from Laurel, MS. Very surprise I said, “Wait What?! You mean to tell us that we just met people from Laurel, MS that are a lesbian family?” She confirmed again. I thought, “Holy Crap, this is what we’ve been needing. Someone from the south that understands our frustrations.” Our relationship was soon off to the races.
Their daughter was a truly compassionate being who appeared reserved but loved our son, Marshall. And Marshall loved them all. And Kathleen definitely danced to the beat of her own drum. The connection was so close that it appeared that this was a friendship that would last a lifetime. Lisa told us that she was a retired military colonel. She was always dressed in some type of military get-up. And she had also been an EMT and worked on an ambulance. I was happy that I now had someone to exchange “trauma junkie” stories with. She seemed to deal with it better than I was doing and was interested in how she did it. Her partner, Landri, was very frail looking but spicy in her own sense. She quit working due to her chronic health issues regarding cardiac problems. They told us that their daughter, Kathleen, had been diagnosed as a child with a terminal heart condition. And that she likely would not make it to adulthood. They warned that there were very frequent hospital visits sometimes close to being fatal. But we loved all of them and they loved us.
We were prepared to love and accept them right where they presented themselves. We never knew that we needed to have someone prove their medical conditions or a traumatic past. We were on the “therapy” side of life which fit comfortably with our level of empathy. And for the first time while living in Albuquerque there were people who understood what it was like to grow up and come out in the south.
Since we lived on a guarded military base, when she would come through the gate dressed in some type of military attire she accepted the salutes as a proud retired colonel. We planned to celebrate the next Thanksgiving together in grand southern style. Mel and I spent several hours in the kitchen cooking our favorite southern dishes. The finished product was a full spread that would make our ancestors smile. But right before they came over Lisa called to ask us if we could make Kathleen some macaroni and cheese because she didn’t eat regular Thanksgiving foods. We both thought that was strange. But we didn’t question anything due to possible nutritional needs.
When they arrived, Kathleen came running into our house. She grabbed the freezer door and swung it open while asking, “What have you got to eat?” I looked at Mel like, “Are you watching this?” Shocked and completely bewildered I very clearly remember thinking, “For someone who was raised in the south, that behavior was considered very disrespectful.” We gave the cooked macaroni to her after she also went to the pantry looking for something to eat. Her behavior was startling. She grabbed the macaroni and went and ate like she hadn’t eaten before. Mel and I spoke about it later and we felt half angry and half in utter disbelief. But I also noticed that Lisa was trying to ignore the “elephant in the room.” Almost as though the behavior was unexpected. That evening went on without any other noticeable issues.
Being a preemie, Mashall had different nutritional needs than a normal baby. He drank pediasure to supplement his much-needed calories. Lisa stated that Landi was supposed to be on supplemental drinks like that for adults, but they couldn’t afford it. We gave them a few drinks which they greatly appreciated. But soon they wanted the majority of what we were receiving for Marshall through the CHIPS program. So, we had to put a stop to that. Again, the whole situation wasn’t sitting right with us. However, there were no alarm bells just a “that’s odd” moment.
Kathleen was admitted many times to the hospital for injuries that were sustained by passing out. She would literally break bones when she fell. Lisa always explained that it was due to her congenital heart problem. And honestly, we have been close friends for a while now while these medical issues continued. We were also told that they were in a support group for kids and families with the same diagnosis. And they would tell us when Kathleen’s friends from the group passed away.
She was given all kinds of recognition and special treatment because different organizations were aware that she would not be living the fullest life that everyone else would. We were even invited to go to the state fair free as guests of Kathleen’s. We also attended a rodeo there complete with a special meet and greet with members of a band that was to be singing that night. She always traveled by wheelchair or golf cart because of how weak she could become.
Lisa came to us one day to tell us that Kathleen was self-harming. And they knew that we had some basic knowledge about what causes the behavior. I asked Lisa,” Is she being abused by anyone that you know of?” Lisa of course answered, “No.” But she did tell us that she had suffered a breakup and that because she was getting older, she also began to fear dying. And she would also tell us that prior to moving to New Mexico that Kathleen’s biological father passed away from terminal cancer. We agreed that due to the extreme situation that was occurring in their family that this behavior was possible. We advised her to seek out a therapist before it got out of control and caused severe scarring or possibly escalating to suicide. No matter what we tried to do to help our friends, we always felt helpless.
Landri still seemed to become progressively worse. And soon we were told that Landri would also have heart failure. I remember Mel and I were thinking how horrible it was for a family to go through all of that at one time. And how helpless we felt, not being able to do anything. What we did know was how to be friends with someone and support them emotionally the best that we could.
They supposedly decided as a family to go to California to get married legally. At the time New Mexico was considered a neutral state regarding marriage equality. That meant that you could not legally have a same sex marriage performed in the state. However, they would honor marriages from other states. Lisa told us that, “Kathleen wanted that wish to come true.” I thought, “well maybe that’s what they all needed.” However, there was a very dark and sinister part of that family that would not become known for several more months. It began in the shadows so it won’t survive in the light. This story has one more part. Keep reading!
“Munchausen By Proxy is a desire to have attention and pity at the same time. So maybe all narcissists have Munchausen By Proxy.”
-Unknown
Affirmation: “I am resilient, and I can overcome challenges.”
“I find it quite ironic that the most dangerous thing about weed is getting caught with it.”
-Bill Murray
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go aways. Okie dokie! Today marks my second favorite time of the year. Yep it’s the month of 420! Not everyone agrees with it. For me though, it has saved my life. To the naysayers, there is absolutely nothing you can tell me negatively that I’ll believe about the plant called cannabis.
Cannabis has been around for forever and ever amen with a lot of negative connotations. My own family still takes issue with the fact that federally it’s still considered illegal. And you can’t really have a conversation about it because some of them are not willing to discuss the science. In a lot of ways vilifying this plant because of the Nancy Reagan 80’s seems to have stuck. I have family members that are earthy, crunchy thinkers in regard to health. And their lives all about healing with fruits, vegetables and herbs. But so am I. I like fruits, vegetables and herbs too. I just smoke my herbs. The side effects are very simple: sleepy, happy and hungry. “Big Pharma” on the other hand are constantly being sued for all of the harmful side effects. No thank you to medications that cause more harm than good. And drinking and driving home is the much safer option?
Over the years cannabis has gotten a horrible name. It’s not because it’s a dangerous drug. In fact, cannabis is one of the healthiest plants available. Our country has now made it a priority to invest money into science and discovering the healing properties. And there are scientific studies proving that cannabis isn’t as bad as once thought.
Unlike alcohol and other harmful drugs, cannabis continues to provide people with life saving medicine as it has for me. It’s healing cannabinoids help with chronic pain, epilepsy, anxiety, multiple sclerosis, PTSD, alzheimer’s disease, chemotherapy induced nausea and vomiting, insomnia, cancer, fighting cancer, inflammatory bowel disease, tourette syndrome, crohn’s disease, depression, HIV/AIDS, muscle spasms, anorexia, amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, addiction, inflammation,parkinson’s disease, PTSD, reducing blood pressure, anxiety disorders, stabilizing blood sugar, decreasing overdose rates, opioid dependence, spinal cord injuries, dystonia, dementia, glaucoma, schizophrenia and other medical and psychological problems (ncbi.nlm.nih.gov, 2017).
The days of believing that cannabis is a drug that causes great bodily harm are over. Hallelujah! Now let me point out one thing. Cannabis isn’t for everyone just like certain pharmaceuticals aren’t. And I agree that some people might have some type of addiction issues. However, there is no physical withdrawal that occurs. It is impossible to overdose on cannabis. You might take or use too much, causing intoxication. But that’s not the plant’s fault. If you have a problem with addiction to this, it is a “you” problem not the substance.
I can only speak for myself as one who has a lengthy history of addiction, I have never had a problem with marijuana. The problems have always come back to myself and the maladaptive ways of coping. Buying marijuana off the streets where most of it has come from cartels, it can be sprayed with poisons which increase the effects and dependency. And this is also where a lot of the paranoia stems from. Yes, there are people who complain about paranoia induced by cannabis that is bought from very safe dispensaries. These cases are very minimal on a broad scale. So, marijuana might not fit you as an individual. However,for people like me who continue to reap the benefits of this plant minus the addiction, I can say that it has truly saved my life. And as a result has lowered the amount of suicidal ideations that used to plague me on a daily basis.
The effects of PTSD continue to complicate my life. The overwhelming symptoms are not near what they once were. Cannabis does NOT cure PTSD. It simply helps with the unfriendly symptoms and side effects. I have gone from being on close to fifteen psychiatric “big pharma” medications down to zero. I didn’t see the point of taking Parkinson’s medication for a side effect of the anti-depressant. Not to mention that I wasn’t able to experience emotions in a way to gauge how I was healing. And everything from the waist down was literally dead. If that’s the price you pay for happiness, then I would rather be sad. I still struggle hard sometimes. And that is where working with coach is other beneficial piece to my treatment. If it is not a substance that doesn’t work for you then move on. But don’t demonize this medication for those of us that it helps to ensure survivability. Thanks for reading! Keep moving forward.
“It is irresponsible not to provide the best care we can as a medical community, care that could involve marijuana. We have been terribly and systematically misled for nearly 70 years in the United States, and I apologize for my own role in that.”
“Other than dying, I think puberty is about as rough as it gets.”
-Rick Springfield
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Okie dokie! Today, I want to talk about that horrible stage in life called PUBERTY! I know, I know. I feel like I just got acid dumped on me for saying that name. These days I have found the evil older sister called menopause.
I personally don’t know how I got through puberty. I started understanding the confusion of being gay. The hormonal changes made me psycho. I began learning about relationships and how they change. I remember thinking that I took everything so personally. Horrible trauma was a constant. I became an addict in so many different ways. I was also incredibly impulsive. I don’t ever remember considering the consequences about anything. It was all about if “they” said no, DO IT! Little did I know, I would get permanently stuck in that developmental age. My body might’ve gotten older but I have not really aged emotionally. Trauma manages to stunt your emotional growth. And I was going through more than my fair share while my brain was still developing.
I was never taught boundaries growing up. I didn’t have any personal boundaries and perpetrators are boundaryless by nature. It was the perfect set up for things to go horribly wrong and they did. Our class went through so much trauma within about five years that we had to grow up incredibly fast. By the time I was a senior, I was emotionally searching for something that could provide me with some kind of hope. And that’s when my ex-husband made his predatory move. Many of us have become addicts in different ways. And sadly, many of my classmates have attempted suicide, completed suicide, died from drug overdoses or have gone to prison. It was so tumultuous, in fact, that I totally retract at the mention of the word.
As I have watched my oldest son, Marshall, go head first into that time period, I would be lying if I didn’t say how scared I am for him. The world is so much more violent. Bullying is much worse. Suicides and murders are out of control. School shootings are happening all over the country. Predators show even less restraint. Depending on where you live in the United States being free to express your sexuality can also be very traumatic. Pressure about having perfect grades and being accepted into top college programs has stolen the happiness of a child’s developmental process. And then there’s fentanyl that tops it all. I hate to sound like an old fart by saying that the world was just different then but it was.
I think now there’s more emphasis on developmental mental health which is always a positive. Cell Phones have been able to record evidence of some of these covert things especially with abusive teachers. And finally these kids have the proof that administrators can’t blow off. But the shame and rejection by families and society doesn’t make life any easier. Perpetrators whether they be peers or adults still operate in the same way. Threats and intimidation is what keeps kids silent and in constant fear. And you put all of that onto a teen and they just can’t handle it. I have overheard people talking about suicide and the person said, “Sometimes life is just too damn hard for these kids.” I know my kids well and I pay attention to everything that I can while co-parenting with their other mom and her partner. We all have a very open type of relationship. However, it scares the absolute shit out of me, because most people thought that I was perfectly fine. And I was the farthest thing from that.
You can follow all the latest research and suggested ways of raising a child but they can still carry with them their own darkness even in plain sight. I would hope that my boys would come to me for anything. But the truth is, that may or may not happen and the consequences can be devastating. And if that’s not resolved in a healthy way then they carry that emotional weight into adulthood. It will be interesting 20 years from now to see the problems that these kids have as adults. Because the struggles that kids are facing now will resurface in some way.
I have laughed many times at the funny sides of puberty by watching my kids. Especially when little brother,Copeland, and his frustrations with Marshall. Sometimes it’s just plain hilarious. At 10 years old, he asks his own questions about puberty. I try to be mature about some of it but it’s a futile effort. Sometimes I laugh so hard that I can hardly breathe. Copeland loves to call his brother out anytime he gets the chance. Not to mention the fact that bathing is an evil necessity and seems to be the main thing that gets in the way of their happiness at this moment. Here is an example of a conversation that I witnessed one day:
Me: “What’s that smell?”
Copeland: “Probably my brother.”
Marshall: “Why did you say that?”
Copeland: “Because it’s true! Momma Mel said that you stink and it’s a sign of puberty. Even if you don’t have hair on your balls yet.”
I made a quick stop to the bathroom because my bladder can’t handle as much laughter as it once did. Whew…I met it half way. I had to laugh into a towel.
I asked them:
Copeland: “Puberty and why he stinks.”
Me: “What are y’all talking about?”
(I start giggling)
I cannot seem to be mature about certain topics. And this was a stunning example.
Copeland: “Momma Mel says that you get hair everywhere.”
Me: “Yep one day you’ll have hairy tits, pits and a ball-fro on your cherries.”
(We all laughed.)
Me: Now who wants the shower first? Nuts and butts!!! Let’s go!!!
At this time in my life, I do my best to still laugh at their innocence. We take one day and one argument at a time. I correct them when I need to . But I also let them have the freedom to say what they feel that they need to say within reason. And I help them the best I can to deal with feelings. I also let them know that feelings are just feelings and they don’t last forever. So that when they’re almost fifty years old they don’t have to suffer with not ever knowing that the concept ever existed. So, maybe, just maybe, they can begin to understand that emotions aren’t terminal. And that all the power that they need is found from within themselves instead of in all the temptations on the outside that lead to even bigger problems.. And they won’t be forever stuck in an insufferable and totally self-obsessed hell.
“It’s all fun and games until someone takes a dart to the eye.”
-Unknown
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. As spring begins to make its mark, I start looking forward to having the cubs come spend some time with me during their spring break. The cold nights are beginning to fade. The hummingbirds start scouting for feeders. And many people take this time to rekindle their relationships with the flowers and gardening.
For many of us winter time leaves us with the attitude of blahhhhhh. It certainly does for me. I enjoy leaving my door open and circulating the fresh cool air. Tink and Coco enjoy both the air and watching the bugs and birds of the season. And the boys enjoy going outside down to the creek and playing with water guns. But what never seems to have a particular season are nerf gun wars. And they show no mercy for their friends and family.
Copeland has a place in my little habitat where he takes his mattress and drags it to the top of wooden shelving about 8 feet off the ground and covered by a curtain where he can enjoy some quiet time away from me and big brother, Marshall. This area has become affectionately known as the “Eagle’s Nest.” He normally has a nerf gun close at hand along with his tablet. Marshall usually has his gaming headphones or talking to online friends. And I’m diamond painting or planning things to do while keeping my ears and eyes open taking it all in.
Everything seems to be going good until Copeland fires a random shot at me from behind the curtain nailing me directly in the eyebrow with a nerf gun bullet. I let out a loud, “Ow!” He laughs hysterically which seems to trigger Marshall’s curiosity. Now they both need and want to be a part of the action. I love my boys dearly. However, at this point, they care nothing about their mom or other bystanders’ need for safety. Those foamed bullets with plastic tips began flying from the barrels of various guns striking me in every area of my body. Nerf Gun War: Game On!
They have gathered every bit of the ammo with the exception of maybe five bullets that are given to me. I have absolutely no protective cover. And they have an entire curtain. And I have been forced to try and pick up the landed bullets while still being shot with perfect aim. They can’t seem to aim clothes perfectly in the clothes basket. Nor can they aim their trash into a garbage can. However, they seem to aim perfectly with nerf guns that can have military snipers shaking in their boots.y
I began to tell myself, “Their childish giggling will make it all worth it.” Soon, though, my entire body is covered in red dots complimentary of hundreds landing shots on my now painful body. I search frantically for cover. Sometimes it’s a roll of toilet paper, towel, blanket or a garbage can. Anything that I can successfully reach, in the moment, becomes a form of cover. And then…I ran out of ammo. I think to myself, “Why didn’t we use protection?!”
I call, “Time Out! I’m out of ammo!” They say, “Ok! Cease fire! Momma needs to get bullets!” I gingerly drop my cover and observe my wounds not knowing if I’m really alive. My eyebrows are now swollen. And the only feeling that I can identify is OUCH! I begin to hear whispers and giggles among the offenders. I look up and Pow! I take another one directly to the middle of my forehead. They break out into total sugar drunken laughter while saying, “We love you, momma!” And I reply, “Stop lying! No you don’t! You just shot me in my nipple!” This makes the entire situation that much funnier to them. I say in my loudest and desperate voice, “I wish you would just eat a large clown turd!” And they continue to laugh hysterically.
As I frantically gather bullets near me and fling them in their general direction, they land a barrage of bullets again, completely crushing my self-confidence in my ability to win as if that was even a remote possibility. I hurriedly run into the middle of the floor gathering more bullets and I take one directly in the butt crack. “Ow!” I painfully scream.
I take my gathered stash that fills the clip that I now have secured in my half working gun. I see my moment while they are making battle plans to get in a cheap shot like the many that my body now shows its evidence. I fire away only for my bullet to land about five feet from my position. They don’t even seem to notice. I fired several more times with the same ferocity. I still don’t even get close to landing a shot. I shout loudly, “This piece of crap gun with no boom!” And my youngest son Copeland laughs harder. I take my remaining bullets and realize my now harsh reality. I have to throw my bullets. They have sabotaged my ability to win this war.
The mayhem eventually dies down. Copeland and whoever else attempting to kill me climbs down out of the “Eagle’s nest” to come look at my battle wounds. They are still laughing and I have a bruised fingernail, swollen elbows, a pulled hamstring, inflamed eyelashes, diminished hearing in my right ear, a runny nose brought on by a direct shot, a burning belly button, red dots up and down my shins, an itchy armpit and farts that sound like a suffering animal needing euthanasia. These wounds I did not have prior to Camp Frat Pad WWIII.
These moments while painful I wouldn’t trade for one minute. I am able to relive my childhood vicariously through my children with some Advil and an ice pack. And for them, it’s just another fun time with momma where we are making memories while they enjoy being kids. To them, it’s not about whether or not I’m gay or straight. Or how much money I have or don’t have. I’m just momma. And I can do nothing but smile. Later, I would cuddle with my “non-expanding recreational foam experts.”
“All is fair in love and Nerf war.”
-Unknown
***Don’t forget to watch the video! Copeland chose the song for this blog.***
“At first, addiction is maintained by pleasure, but the intensity of this pleasure gradually diminishes and the addiction is then maintained by the avoidance of pain.”
-Frank Tallis
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Okie dokie! Today I want to talk to you about a topic that is very near and dear to me. The topic is Addiction. I have been on all sides of this issue. I have been an addict that began to struggle early on in my teen years. I eventually went to get my bachelor’s degree in Psychology. Then onto getting my Master’s degree in counseling. And then went on to work in the field of addiction. And I have seen the havoc this problem has caused both in my own family and in other’s as well.
As a thirteen year-old, I was subjected to horrible verbal and emotional abuse at the hands of a teacher. The abuse was absolutely the most stressful time of my life up until that point. I was given a set of rules that I had to follow that was not reciprocated by the adults who set them. I can’t tell you how emotionally and physically trapped I felt sitting in that closet and berated every single day for a year. I was also humiliated in front of my class of peers. I was also sent to the office with disciplinary forms for things that I did not do. That’s not to say that I was completely innocent. I would verbally strike out at that teacher a few times intentionally in order to get in-school suspension just to get a day or two break from her verbal aggression. Knowing now how underdeveloped a child’s brain is in this time period helps me understand the whys and hows of this horrible behavior and how it begins and continues.
My first time using it was during an emotional time that was so chaotic for me. The “perfect storm” had started brewing previously for approximately two years before I ever began. And as it appears, I wasn’t the only teen in my graduating class who would have some of the same struggles. I had suppressed a lot of the memories about my molestation at an early age. I always had a smile on my face and was laughing as much as possible. However, the underpinnings of addiction were looking for a way into my soul. And it would be the disaster that would follow me into my adult years.
In my life, addiction would not begin as a few substances here and there recreationally like some stories. My situation presented itself at a time where I could no longer handle both the wait of depression and ongoing trauma. I felt emotionally that I was trapped and that no one was there for me in any way. So, I took my first opiates and I was in love. I would be in this type of committed relationship for many years to come. I didn’t see the horns and pitchfork that it carried. I saw it as the best friend that always provided relief and was non-judgmental. It was there to comfort me when comfort was not around. And for the moment, the evil words and actions of that teacher would be drowned out even if it was only for an hour.
I have had several people since then say to me, “Why didn’t you tell someone about what was going on?” The truth is I did and no one believed me. I told my principals but my reputation for being a “class clown” was apparently stronger than the actual truth. When the teacher received word that I had told them, nothing was resolved. The abuse only got worse. Eventually not only would I develop a chemical addiction, I would also have a process of addiction by way of self-harm and eating disorders.
When I began self-harming I was, once again, sent to the office only for the object that I had been stuck into my hand to be covered up and sent back to class. Once I got back to class, I was put on display in front of the class and made to feel less than once again. To those that always say that self-harm is “attention seeking” behavior I can tell you this. I never wanted a trophy for the number of scars that I wear on my body today. I wanted the pain to stop. Not every behavior is about a Tik-Tok or Facebook challenge. And it certainly wasn’t for me. Maybe it was a cry for help. However, those cries fell on deaf ears.
I had begun to notice the amount of anger that was building inside of me daily. And I was scared to death of what that might look like if it ever got free. Sitting with those intense emotions might get buried for the moment, but they will surface. And no matter how much you try to further suppress them, they come out on whoever happens to be around when the “straw that breaks the camel’s back” gets laid down. The scars that you can now see are plentiful. But it’s the scars that you can’t see that outnumber the others by a long shot.
I continue to struggle hard with addiction despite a vast knowledge and experience working with other addicts. Addiction isn’t something that you can outthink. And to those that think it’s about “willpower,” consider it “willpower” the next time you struggle with diarrhea. You cannot imagine the hold that it can have on you if you’ve never had that hold on you. And if you can socially drink and use and it doesn’t reach the point of addiction consider yourself lucky. The bad part is that you don’t know if you’ll become addicted until you try it. And I cannot think of a more perfect game of russian roulette to play. A little felt good. And a lot was not enough.
The fact that I have not died of addiction and others have left me in utter bewilderment. And yet I know that there is a bullet with my name on it each time I pull that trigger trying once again to just be comfortable in my own skin. Addiction is so cunning, baffling and powerful in ways that many don’t understand. And I have seen it ravage the lives of people and those they love to a point where my jaw drops. Even with all of that being said, I still don’t have a healthy fear of addiction. And I’m not sure that I ever will.
As a parent, I can only hope that my own children will choose a way that is more healthy even when times are difficult. And that if they are in some way being harmed that they won’t stay quiet and be covered in shame the way that bullies and perpetrators expect them to be. Get help immediately if you see that you or someone you love has an addiction. I have been in therapy for several years now and I still struggle with this horrible thing called addiction. The name just the label that is given to the substance or behavior that presents itself as a caring and compassionate friend that is waiting to cut our throats.
“Recovery is not a race.You don’t have to feel guilty if it takes you longer than you thought it would.”
“I am just a human being trying to make it in a world that is rapidly losing its understanding of being human.”
-John Trudell
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Okie dokie! I want to clarify one thing before I get into the topic for today. This blog is more like an online journal of sorts. I write about things that affect me at this moment. Many topics repeat and that’s perfectly ok. Each thing I write about is in some way me moving forward even if at a snail’s pace. Trauma is not one of those things that you can talk about today and it will be gone tomorrow. Those who have never been in therapy or are from a generation where therapy was not an option don’t get this concept. And truthfully neither did I. Heck, even though I grew up in the 1980’s therapy was only for the lifestyle of the rich and famous. Nevertheless, the trauma still left its mark.
All of this has been a process that doesn’t have a set time limit. And to think that I can process some of these gut wrenching problems on Monday and then on Tuesday be able to say and believe that the hurt and pain won’t resurface is only a pipe dream that leads to disappointment. You have to have a therapist who is compassionate and patient to say the least. And with my coach that is exactly what I got. And the time it takes to find a therapist that is a good fit sometimes involves more trauma. And it certainly did for me. It took me over forty years to become dysfunctional to this extreme. So, to think that all of that can be wiped out with even a few years of intense therapy is very unrealistic.
Today I want to talk about imperfection. The holidays are so incredibly stressful for me as with most people. I think it’s just all of the emotions of being around more people than I’m used to. And when the Frat Pad is in full swing with our crew it can be exhausting. Don’t get me wrong, I love hanging with my boys and friends. However, after all of the holidays are said and done I am completely exhausted. Maybe it’s because when we are all together we are all on such an emotional high that when it’s all over with my mind and body say, “Dana, What the hell were you thinking? You don’t have to do everything to extremes!” For the last several weeks I just can’t seem to get my energy back. I can’t sleep. I have been in a horrible depression.
As a child we don’t really think about the concept of “imperfection.” We go through our little child life learning from our mistakes on a daily basis. And that’s the way it should be. As we grow, socially, emotionally and physically everything begins to change. We begin to form our own view of the world and expectations that we have for ourselves. Maybe it’s just a combination of societal, personal, environmental, and familiar experiences that begin to teach us that ‘perfection” is the only way to be. Not all are affected in a negative way.
My life was affected negatively because of my experiences. When you are very impressionable at a young age simultaneously, your brain is still underdeveloped. You begin to see life for what it is either negatively or positively. If you are exposed like I was to narcissists who only told me that no matter what I did, I would never be good enough, my life began to play out just like that. I learned very quickly that not being perfect meant that my life was not as worthy as others. Little by little this core belief that I was inherently unworthy of good things continued to chip away at me until waking up every day became a punishment rather than a gift. And since the age of 13, I have been chronically suicidal. I still completely disregard dangerous and impulsive behaviors that are very detrimental at the very least.
When I was married to my ex-husband he took my whole feeling of inadequacy and belief that I wasn’t worthy of love, acceptance and compassion to an all time high. Instead of taking the information that I told him about my life to show me everything that I had been missing, he used it as a weapon to have ultimate control over me. Not to mention that he was also nineteen years my senior. I was so naive that I held onto his every word as truth. The “truth” however was that he was and still is a very sick man who was also horribly abused by his father. And to my knowledge was NEVER told that he was loved by him. So, if he wasn’t in control including his perfectionistic ways then he felt completely out of control. And he perpetuated that abuse onto me.
One of his favorite things to tell me was, “I’m not the one with the mental history.” And the fact of the matter is this, he has never gone to see a therapist for any of his issues. His mental illness has just never been diagnosed. It doesn’t not mean that he doesn’t have a mental illness. Therapy also requires a level of rigorous honesty about yourself that he is incapable of being. I will be the first to tell you that therapy isn’t always fun. However, it is necessary regardless how far down the spectrum you may go. When I needed therapy in my teens therapy was not possible. So, even though I began seeing a therapist in 2009 my work didn’t truly begin until about 8 years ago. At the time, I was undiagnosed with a very serious trauma related disorder that not just every professional knows how to treat. It goes way beyond basic depression and anxiety issues. The problem was so much more complex than I had any concept to be able to understand at that time. And let me just point out that any level of depression and anxiety are in their own way completely miserable.
I had a therapist long ago tell me when I was in despair about always making mistakes tell me, “Welcome to the human race.” And I never understood what that meant until years later. I still make a lot of mistakes as a human being. I take as much as I can and I fall. I still get angry and say hurtful things. And I also still go to bed many nights with tears in my eyes. I’m now learning how to embrace my whole self mistakes and all. And I’m trying not to let the opinions of those who bled out on me for crimes I didn’t commit determine my self worth. My imperfection is what classifies me as being “PERFECTLY IMPERFECT.”
“I don’t have to be perfect. All I have to do is show up and enjoy the messy, imperfect and beautiful journey of my life.”
This Puzzled Life 