I have been epileptic for six years. In that time I’ve had nine seizures. Over the years I’ve gotten used to the feel of the seam of scars that run along the inside of my cheeks; and the wavy misshape on the left side of my tongue. I’ve gotten used to the daily head aches, the persistently rock-hard muscles, emotional ups and downs, the memory loss and the prejudice of many. I’ve nearly drowned in the depression my condition, on the days when I felt sorry for myself, and had no interest in trying to surface for a long time. I prayed for mercy, for I did not expect a cure. I got it.
It has never been easy, and I’ve needed a lot of help. With that help I’ve been able to live my life almost like everyone else. I can work, but I can’t drive. I can focus, but I can’t remember. I am worth loving, but I come with some baggage. I am largely healthy but my body has continued to feel familiar yet alien. Sometimes I feel like a body within a body. A brain inside a brain. Melded but still apart. The contradiction. That is the life Saoirse Beatha Donnghaile.
I have struggled through, and have usually overcome, most of the things that plague epileptics. Only a very low percentage of us ever graduate from college. I did so with honors, but I’ve had the continued support of my family to keep pushing me forward when I’d start to drag my feet. I couldn’t have done it without them. I couldn’t have done it without my stunning neurologist, and I couldn’t have done it without marijuana. All this gave me my life back. Many have it far worse than me, but we can all have access to medical marijuana.
The hot button issue. The miracle cure. The gateway drug. The scapegoat.
People continually fight against marijuana without understanding it; just like the way people continually fight against legal abortion procedures. And they’re usually the same people. It’s the ignorance of our own bodies that is to blame. It’s blindly accepting what others have told us; instead of researching it for ourselves before we accept.
It’s not knowing what a bunch of rich fucks have done to thwart the benefits of marijuana because marijuana could have been a risk to their fortunes. For the purpose of assimilation. For money. People don’t even know that there is more than one kind. People don’t know the difference between an indica and a sativa. They don’t even try to find out either. They don’t even think to ask. They’d much rather be spoon fed lies. Not knowing is one thing. Refusing to know is another, terrifying issue.
If I didn’t smoke my continual head aches with the occasional severe migraines would be traded in for continual migraines and probably become bedridden, like many others. I would be unable to work. Unable to eat much. Unable to have a comfortable life. Hearing sounds. Seeing the light. It would be agony.
If I didn’t smoke I would have collapsed under the weight of my depression years ago, and by collapse I mean suicide. It has helped me understand myself in a way no other person has been able to. It has helped me become more introspective. I understand myself more fully.
My memory is already damaged, and marijuana hasn’t even exacerbated it. In fact, small amounts (not getting high) can actually help improve your memory and is even being experimented with in Alzheimer’s patients. If I smoked less I might see THAT benefit. I do mental exercises though, I try to get some of it back that way, and with varying degrees of success. Clear days and foggy days. On clear days I feel like a God damn genius.
It’s hard to be epileptic and get employed. Once they know they’ll find any excuse to get rid of you. So I keep it a secret if I can — but I still wear my medical bracelet, so guess how well that turns out…but I’ve wandered off after a seizure so…purple rubber bracelet shackle for me. Being an epileptic is hard, but there are so many out there that have it so much worse than me and I try to remember that on my low days. Sometimes shame is a good way to shake off self pity. My seizures are largely controlled. When I have one it’s usually my fault, I’ll miss a pill or something. Sometimes not…but my mistake is usually the culprit. It’s even the immediate assumption these days. Marijuana helps delay that.
The thought that some people are trying to take away the one -natural- thing that has given me my life back both infuriates and frightens me. It enrages me that they’d take it from those that suffer more than I do. You naysayers would have myself and many others suffer because you’re too lazy to research things from valid places yourself.
You naysayers would even rather see people die so long as those afflicted aren’t you and yours. Those of you who are against marijuana don’t care about those afflicted with various aliments, because you are against its medicine. You are against slowing the growth rate of cancer cells. You are against people NOT committing suicide. You are against the alleviation of migraines. You are against helping sick people eat again. You are against happiness, save yours. You are against mercy because you yourself deny it to others. That is the one and only thing being against smoking marijuana can mean. Rethink your prejudice if you disagree with me.
Be honest. Admit that you don’t care about your fellow man. Admit it here. Admit it now. I want to see you write that. Show us the callous, selfish, ignorant, shining star of a citizen that American naysayers have become. OR…or…you can show me the America I used to be proud of. You could show me the mercy that makes staying an American worth it.