Subtle thanks: “Cannabis is my medicine, so why am I still so embarrassed?”

part 1

Discreetly Dank is a recurring column dedicated to giving a voice to those who dare to be horny. Each volume will be by a different author who needs a safe place to document what it’s really like to be a weed lover in a world where cannabis is still not normalized.

“Man, I should have had a joint for breakfast today!” A random man jokes with his buddy on the way to work as I stand nearby.

I live in Canada where adult cannabis has been legal since 2018 and, often forgotten, medicinal use has been legal for over 20 years. Weed has so many functions and yet there is still a strong stigma surrounding its use.

I shouldn’t care, but I do.

Here I am waiting for the bus at 7am on a weekday, chronic pain through the roof, but I still find a way to get to my job.

My perfectly rolled “breakfast joint” matches my dramatic Liz Lemon eye roll as I continue to scroll through my phone.

For me, cannabis isn’t a punch line, it’s medicine.

Before weed, I was constantly calling in sick to work. My medications (also prescribed by the doctor, may I add) made it difficult to do basic work or life tasks. So I started walking the fine line between pain relief and not getting fired. My mental health was a mess and my physical limitations were still numerous.

All that changed after I asked my doctor if he could switch to cannabis to treat my symptoms.

“…As a [cannabis] patiently, I thought there would be an extra layer of support and understanding.”

In moments like this, I often think about quitting drugs. With drugs, I could never have stood here waiting for a bus, let alone made the hour-long drive into town and attended a full day of work meetings.

However, that’s not the narrative they create when they see me. You see a stoner, an addict, a joke. And it still stings; the judgement, the looks, the snide comments.

I was a pre-legal cannabis patient and I honestly thought legal weed would improve that stigma.

It didn’t.

You shouldn’t have to work the grass to accept it

On the surface, I’m living my wildest life out loud. I have a career in legal cannabis and I am open about my use with my friends, family and colleagues.

But underneath is a woman who is still deeply ashamed of consuming the plant for medicinal purposes, for recreation, and for every use in between.

Don’t get me wrong, if I want to smoke a joint at 7am for shit and giggles, I shouldn’t be judged for it either. But as a patient, I thought there would be an extra layer of support and understanding. Almost as if society were magically overcoming decades of Prohibition propaganda and throwing me a parade for choosing weed over opioids.

Instead I got the following:

• a difficult conversation with my parents
• a questionable dismissal
• and an expensive monthly prescription that the government and most insurance companies don’t cover.

Honestly, if cannabis hadn’t been so successful in treating my ailments, I would have given up within the first month. Learning how to use cannabis medicinally has been confusing, expensive and inaccessible.

But there is no guide to medicinal cannabis. Not even for the doctors, let alone the patients.

Related

Medical marijuana patients targeted by sneaky new federal drug testing rule

Stigma and shame are an exhausting burden

As far as patients are concerned, I am the exception and not the rule. A few years in the industry has connected me to the best doctors and community groups out there. I was finally able to balance the right doses, formats, and devices to manage my symptoms. Medical cannabis changed everything for me.

“Dabs made me feel like a drug user for the first time.”

The problem is that I don’t need to work with weed to understand it or humanize those who consume it.

Far from being my most traumatizing cannabis stigma story, the above is just one of many microaggressions that come with being a disabled person taking painkillers of any kind. “Do you really need this? I never use more than one Tylenol.”

Good for you, Suzanne.

If you’d told me one day that I microdosed dabs before work or had a utensil drawer full of black butter knives, I never would have believed it. When my specialist suggested I try dabs, it felt like she was asking me to do crack (honestly, have you ever seen crumble?!).

Smoking weed in public still makes me uncomfortable, but starting medical treatment with dabs has challenged me in places I didn’t even know still associated with stigma and shame.

Overcoming mental hurdles to becoming a cannabis patient

When I first started using dabs I felt like a drug user and I had to work hard to unlearn the history of addiction when I first became a patient.

Dabs look like an earthy green version of the crystallized so-called hard drugs I used to see on TV. I break off a piece, it sizzles, I breathe in, and relief comes. That has to be “evil”, right?

No, it actually helps me keep a full-time job.

“Thanks to the stigma, it’s still a struggle to open up to daily use of cannabis, but the truth is there’s more than one type of medicine.”

It turns out I couldn’t get enough THC from any other format to effectively treat pain (unless I was consuming so much MCT oil that it was causing painful stomach issues). In turn, my own stigma kept me from getting the treatment I needed.

It’s a real mental hurdle to overcome – medicinal weed. Everything I learned about cannabis as a kid was wrong. What I thought I understood about health and medicine was wrong. I carry that shame with me every day, along with an extra layer of fear.

Will I lose another job? Will I ever be comfortable vaping in front of my parents? Will my new neighbors tell our landlord if we smoke in the yard? Will this drug ever feel “normal”?

Thanks to the stigma, it’s still a struggle to open up to the daily use of cannabis, but the truth is that there’s more than one type of medicine.

Sometimes a medical treatment looks like an inhaler, pill, or patch. And sometimes medicine looks like a woman smoking a joint at 7 a.m. before going to work.

Discreet thanks

Discreetly Dank is a recurring column dedicated to highlighting the stories and perspectives of cannabis enthusiasts grappling with the stigma surrounding cannabis in all facets of life. From micro-aggression to genuine health and safety concerns, the contributors to Discreetly Dank dare to be horny in a world that hasn’t caught up with their sophisticated lifestyles…yet.

Check out Discreetly Dank’s articles

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