Marijuana Helped Me Take Back My Safe Space
I was at dinner party where everyone was asked to share their safe space.
I said, “My safe space is when I close my eyes. I love to hop inside myself and escape the world.”
Recently, my safe space was compromised, and I forgot about my pocket, portable sanctuary. I fell into a deep, depressive funk and forgot how to exist as a human, filling the void of sadness that became me with excess food and binge-watching shows.
Marijuana rescued me from the hole I dug myself into.
My safe space was ripped out from under my feet. My roommates turned my home into my hell.
I was being stricken with bolts of negativity from my roommates. I tried desperately to keep up niceties and not compromise my core values of being kind and compassionate to all people. I continued doing chores while trying to maintain a smile on my face.
My roommates made assumptions, blaming me for anything they could. It got to the point where the messages would be pointed at me and hostile. There were no more “How was your day?”s. They only communicated with me to passively and later overtly blame me for things. It was hard to keep up a smile in this environment, but I didn’t want to allow their negativity to infiltrate me and affect my spirit.
Communication was not effective.
When I tried to express my feelings, it provoked unproductive arguments with the roommates. It was always the same scripted show where my oppressor would find one point to hone in on, ignore the other things I would say, and then resort to their go-to argument. I have learned to recognize unproductive confrontation, where defensiveness takes the driver’s seat and listening gets stuffed in the trunk behind all the other crap. And accountability is left stranded on the side of the road in the middle of a desert.
Trying to maintain balance and a positive vibe, I kept up house chores while others started doing less and less, and eventually got away with doing nothing.
Suddenly, I found myself in the role of the house’s maid. I especially felt like Cinderella one day, as I was on my hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor.
That was the day I broke. The day before, I had a potluck for my birthday. I gave the kitchen a thorough cleaning, leaving it cleaner than before the dinner. I left the stove for another roommate who I asked to assist me with that.
I left for the day, and then got hit with the first lightning bolt of negativity, a curt message asking me to clean the stove. No acknowledgement of the work I had done. This strike missed me.
Then came another. I got a message from another roommate saying, “Hope you had a nice birthday…” and then went on to attack me. There was an exchange, which I don’t want to relive. That was the only time I was told happy birthday by either one of them.
This one struck my heart. It broke me, and I found myself sobbing on public transit. I finally had to acknowledge that I had been living with my bullies.
I started spiraling down a deep, dark void.
The tears were necessary. These feelings had been building for about 6 months, and a volcano of tears was bound to erupt. It was inevitable and cathartic.
During the week after, I became a black hole of sadness that I filled with food and TV while hiding in my room. Nothing was functioning the way it should: my brain was not able to generate thoughts and my body became an endless pit to stuff things into. My safe space was totally compromised. I was unable to do the activities that made me happy while I was home, but I was unable to bring myself to leave. I ate my feelings. It was an unhealthy cycle of sadness and indulgence.
I’ve been to this place before. I’ve forgotten how to be a human being, relearned and forgotten again. Marijuana is my savior.
Life throws things at you; it is all a challenge. That’s what I would tell myself as I was experiencing this. I also tried to extract all the lessons I could to become stronger.
It always takes me a while to think about weed when I’m in this dark place. I allow the sadness to swallow me, give myself a pass for grieving, and fall into an utterly mindless state of existence.
But my friend Marijuana (Mary Jane) always wakes me up. This time, she slapped me in the face, reminded me that I’m awesome, and how dare I allow myself to be pushed to this state by others? They made me suffer enough. They don’t deserve any more real estate in my brain space.
Marijuana offered clarity and empowered me.
She lifted me out of the fog that crippled me. I spiraled deep into the abyss, and Mary Jane gave me wings to get high and fly out of there. She gave me the tools to begin my healing process.
I ate some weed granola and remembered that my safe space is nowhere physical. My safe space has been inside me the whole time. Marijuana reminded about my portable safe space, so I closed my eyes and transported inside myself. I scanned my body from within and saw the damage I was doing to my physical body and spirit. No more.
Mary Jane also gave me the superpower of seeing the situation from outside of my wallowing, grieving perspective. From outside of the void, I could analyze what’s happening. I saw the lazy, bed-ridden, sugar and carb loading, binge-watching slug I was transforming into. And I didn’t like it one bit. Mary gave me the clarity I needed, as well as the motivation to make change. She activated me and gave me power to make moves. With her help, I am taking back control of my life.
Now, I’m finally crawling out of the hole I dug myself into. I’m standing taller and stronger, and I’m learning lessons.
I am learning to stop being a selfless doormat. I will always strive to spread positivity to all people, but I will recognize I need to stop, especially when it hurts me to do so. Unconditional kindness is not realistic; humans have a limited supply of energy. This was an important lesson to learn.
Another lesson I learned is that there will be people who don’t like you for being you. This is something I’m bound to encounter again in life, and have encountered before. The degree to which I experienced it here was beyond anything I had encountered before, but now I know the importance of guarding myself and my heart. I have faith I will recognize this scenario in the future and apply what I learned. Ultimately, we are alone in this world. We must help others, but we must first help ourselves.
Marijuana was the best friend I needed, who grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me until the fog in my mind dissipated. With her help, I had clarity once again. I regained the power to control my destiny. She was there all along to support me; I just needed to ask her for help. Marijuana saved me from suffering. Thanks to her, I have reflected and learned my lessons, and I will be forever stronger for it.
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