Blunt.

Recently I was told by my mother that I am too blunt. At first I took exception to this but then I thought about it. Yes it is true! I can be very blunt. Presenting personality takes enormous energy, all cognitive and communication skills take energy. Take that energy away and what are we left with?

So I embrace my bluntness and ask my mother to consider how hard it is for me, to understand that I am not blunt I am exhausted. That when I am over tired I can not project personality, I can merely answer a question when asked and not answer the same question three times in a row as she would like.

This reminds me why I have few friends, if my own mother judges me, what must others think of me. This is one of the reasons I avoid people when my energy is low.

There are some who like my straight forward honesty, I don’t have energy to waste and honesty is simpler. I guess I do speak my mind, my communication skills are flawed generally, it is hard to get things right with people when I spend so much time alone. Exhaustion makes it impossible so often.

I am not knowingly blunt, I am tired!

Chris.xx

Birthday Blues.

I wrote this last year and now a year later I finally post it.

I have turned 50! a momentous event I feel, I could not have imagined growing so old. It feels like a special occasion and I so wanted to celebrate big time. This was not to happen though, As usual the time of year was against me, who wants to do anything at the end of november, well I don’t, I go into hibernation mode around this time. Also, xmas work events dominate the scene, its just too close to xmas. Its cold and dark and all the things I would love to do are outdoors. Each year I say I will organise a celebration in the summer, a wild swimming or water sports affair, enjoying water and the sun, and yet I never make this happen. Why not? Well for one thing I don’t know enough people to invite, this is a big problem. Out of the people I do know none of them realise my situation, I have a family of two people and I need other people to celebrate with.

This year I decided I would try the local comedy club for a weekend night out, I asked a number of friends, but only one, and her boyfriend, confirmed. My daughter was up for it in theory and she asked a friend, but all others I asked refused the offer, one was not comfortable going out in a group with people she doesn’t know, another was at the theatre that night, an excuse? Two other acquaintances had other plans. I tried enticing some people from the gym but no one took the bait and so it was I would’ve been alone with a couple of teenagers and a couple, I feared how lame that looked, eventually I just gave up on the idea as I just didn’t want to go out, instead I had settled into hibernation.

Its times like birthdays and xmas I feel the loneliness, though I must remind myself, I was lonely last year and I was with a partner of sorts, I am not sure which is worse.

In the days leading up to my big day 50! Weyhey! I was busy buying birthday type things, decorations, candles, bits and pieces, in theory my daughter or mother would do such things but in reality, mum never has and my daughter was too unwell and asleep mostly so unable to.

I challenge all of you to buy yourself presents and bits and pieces and cake, you start with a bright mood, caught up in all the lovely things you would like; but then it hits, you are buying your own treats, it feels sad. You can shake this feeling but it grows down deep, there is no one to do these things for you, you are alone. There is a point up to which its okay, you tell yourself, this way you get things as you like, but when you buy a card for your child to give to you, it all falls away. Better this way than nothing, you tell your self, I guess that is true, but it still feels shit. I expect there are many women and mother’s out there who know this feeling, despite having people around them and so I mustn’t moan and feel sorry for myself, yet I still do.

Enough of that, my birthday was fine in the end, an afternoon lunch with Mum and daughter. It was amazing the girl got up and out so I had to appreciate that. The two of them bickered like siblings as is what usually happens. Nothing went quite right, the clothes I picked to wear didn’t feel right, I had a heavy period, as happens every year. The place we chose to eat, just didn’t seem as nice as we thought when we had been before. My favourite drink there, ‘Strawberry fizz’ non alcoholic loveliness, was no longer on the menu, aargh! Now it was something similar with passion fruit, the gloopy seeds stuck in my paper straw, disolving it. Everything was just a little droopy. Oh well onwards into the evening.

For my big night, I had chosen to attend my dance class as usual, I organised some cakes to share through the gym cafe. Again nothing was quite right. The cafe had forgotten my booking, I had to wait while they threw things together and of course, people dancing for exercise are not interested in cake, whoops, I hadn’t thought about that. Oh well, I put on a brave mask and announced my age to all, I danced hard and happily, pretending I was not sad.

For the next part I called at a pub for a quick drink with an old friend before heading home with her for a night of champagne and cake. We called for her daughter and her boyfriend on the way, arriving back to mine where my daughter and her friend were waiting to celebrate. Flowers and chocs were waiting for me too. We spent the night with music and drinks and laughter, I relaxed and was happy. At least I wasn’t alone as I have been on other birthdays. This was a good night, next year I vowed would be better. Grateful also that I wasn’t asleep, so many years I have slept through without any celebration.

I posted a picture on facebook of my pile of gifts, knowing that my birthday cheer did not come close to the celebrations of others, but hey, we can’t all have it all.

It is always at these times of markers and celebrations that I feel the burden of my condition. Maintaining a normal regular routine is hard work, occasions that require energy are a hard thing to manage. The smallness of my life works well generally, but at these times it feels disappointing. Accepting and appreciating the little things, feels like a let down when you have a mind to celebrate. Just sometimes, times like this I wish I had a different life.

Turning fifty is a big thing, I like being older, but so many things happen to the body around this time, there are so many factors that are universal truths. My eyes, I couldn’t read a single letter of the board this time at the opticians, now I have reading glasses everywhere. Menopause, well lets just say now I know why older women are grumpy. Thankfully there is HRT. Then there is the hair, the grey, mine coming through in patches making it look ridiculous, I took the opportunity to die my light hair, dark, a huge contrast that I loved but the upkeep of roots is a mighty faff. Oh there are more things that happen and test your mind, I have taken these things in my stride and embraced the ageing. Fifty feels like a momentous thing, I feel more myself than I ever have, I have survived half a century, I want to live for ever!

Here’s to next year!

Chris. xx

Rubbish Rubbish!

Here’s a random moan for you. What’s with our rubbish disposal situation? I had a sofa to get rid of, it was perfectly fine and still usable and had the fire certificate, but no charity would take it, as it is part of a corner unit, well it was, but I bought it from a discount place as just the one part, a little chaise like and very comfy, Honestly you wouldn’t believe the hassle I had trying to rehome it.

Well I gave up on giving it away and decided to order a bulky collection from the council. I used to be annoyed at this service as it was rather expensive, especially when you’re dependent on a very low income, it was a big chunk to find; hence the amount of furniture, mattresses living in local gardens. People always judge this, but what should you do? There is a reason fly tippers dump rubbish regularly on open ground framing our estate, a lovely field and conservation area, and then yep, huge pile of rubbish.

Every now and again our housing association do a free collection, that’s what we need, free ways to dispose of rubbish and people would stop dumping it. Of course for some a run to the tip seems so easy, but what when you don’t own a car, how then do you move it?

I know, some would break it up, smash it and squash it and put bits in the bin, a few at a time like a severed body. I don’t have an axe, or the strength and somehow I can’t bring myself to destroy something. Damn maybe I should have offered it to the new rage room in town, or advertise my own rage event. Why did I not think of that sooner?

Well back to my moan, it turns out the council no longer offer a bulky collection service? WTF? They encourage us to donate to charity, yep, tried that, or to sell privately, what, the charity shop turned it down but other people will happily buy it. By this time its getting wrecked as it was propped outside under the conifers after the first Charity visit rejection, before moving to the front, ready for the next refusal, all very Beverley Hillbillies, where the dogs made it home on summer days, so what now. Bloody bugger!

Rag and bone, still exists here luckily, generally metal things will be taken, so people prop all sorts in the streets, it gets taken or left to rot. These rubbish collectors are probably fly tipping their unwanted haul and so the cycle goes on.

So what now, can I stick it in the street and pretend its not mine? Maybe I should try that. Instead I have a skip, I had to pay more for one big enough to fit it, I needed one anyway, for a garden overall, I am giving up on my unfinished upcycling projects, it all has to go. My garden is going from workshop, junkyard to lovely garden, well hopefully, that’s been the plan since spring, I have two weeks to fill that skip, I have no idea how I am going to lift the sofa into it, never mind the rest, Oh but that is work for another day.

So just to say, our rubbish situation is totally rubbish. Bear that in mind the next time you see disowned items in the street or growing in people’s gardens.

Chris.xx

Cross words.

Now this is a tricky one, Iv’e been putting it off for so long, for me this one is so hard. I am used to cognitive problems but this takes my brain to a scary place. So basically, I struggle with my words, I can’t bring words to mind and often say different words than my intention. Certain words I have permanently replaced with others. I have tried to make sense of this to find a pattern but I can not.

For example whenever I talk about the bathroom, I call it the kitchen. I try hard to say bathroom but kitchen springs out. I talk about the cat, but call it dog, or I call a dog, cat, all these similar and linked words switch over. Boy becomes girl for example, at least I am in the ball park with these ones, others are more random.

I might be asked ‘where is the ….’ I reply knowing the answer, but instead of saying ‘in the cupboard’ I answer something like ‘ its in the pocket’, when I last said this I was aware I had my hand in my pocket and so thought this had broken my line of thought. Other times I suspect I am saying something that I can see directly rather than what I mean to say.

Its horrible, I know in my head what I want to say yet something different pops out, its very disconcerting. Words matter to me, intellectual capacity is important to me and these symptoms have been hard to adjust to. At times I just can not say the correct word and instead will list a number of words connected to the word I want, like it is a game, describe something without using the word, I should be good at these games but I am not. Eventually who I am talking to will guess the missing word and my conversation can continue, otherwise I use lots of words to say a simple thing, this makes me laugh, having to use numerous words to replace only one.

I have learned to laugh at myself, to relax and go with the flow, its especially funny when a completely unconnected random word comes out. I feel lucky I have a large vocabulary.

My memory is a problem here as well, particularly with names, they vanish from my brain even when I have known someone and there name for my life time. Often I speak of people by their role to cover the fact the name has left me. I can loose my daughter’s name, and the dogs regularly, speaking to the dogs now I generally can say the two names but not to the right dog or at times not at all. Some days its all, ‘come on dog’, or ‘Min, Ink, dog, whatever your name is’. when this happens I can try as I might to get it right but just can not.

I used to be scared of these symptoms but now I am accepting, I avoided talking to strangers and new people for years, but now I just say, ‘its my wonky brain’ although I am making an effort not to down play my illness now, so try to say its my M.E. Many people claim to have the same problems and don’t take it seriously, just one of those ageing things or sufferers of M.E etc refer to Brain fog as an explanation. I hate that term, somehow it just seems too trivial. I have not always had these symptoms, they have increased in the last ten years. At one stage I was referred for tests, these showed that I had a problem in two areas and in these areas I did worsen over time, but generally it was put down to exhaustion. I did not want to accept this but have no choice for now, I just hope that dementia passes me by.

Stuttering and stammering is another thing, somethings I just repeat the ‘T’ sound until a word can come out, not a word beginning with T either. Other times I just ‘ttttttttt’ and can not stop the sound. The blankness inside my head feels strange, like I am hollow, there is nothing and I know nothing. Even now I try to bring up examples to use but I am left blank. Will come back to this one at some point I think. Now it seems that in writing these posts I find it easy to find language, but the secret for me is to use my phone for a thesaurus or I fire words at my daughter until she guesses the missing one that I am thinking of.

Then there is the expletives! Yes the swearing, swear words fly out of me, seemingly coming from nowhere. I think swear words connect to the brain in a visceral way. Tourettes sufferers are often known for unwanted swearing so I think there is something in it. I have never been offended by generalised swearing, which is just aswell. Some days I do have to apologise for myself when all the words slipping out are F words. I can offend people I know, but well fuck it, it can’t be helped.

Here’s to my ever decreasing language skills.

Chris. xx

OOh here’s another regular one, ‘gog’ instead of ‘dog’, ‘dog’ instead of ‘God’.

Friendship.

Well I am trying to think of a witty title for this one but I am stumped. On the way here today I nearly walked in to a friend, well a past friend. I saw her and smiled with a ‘Hi’ while her face screwed into a most unfriendly scowl, as I looked at her directly her manners forced her to answer with a disgruntled ‘hello’ which got me thinking. Firstly, what have I done to warrant such an unfriendly response and then onto friendships and there twists and turns.

I have always found it hard to make friends, well on a real and more intimate level. I make acquaintance easily as I know how to talk to people, I am either an entertainer and people think I am confident and not needing connection or I am quiet and shy and people avoid me. It takes time to build friendships and I am unreliable due to my illness. When I finally do connect to a new friend it then hits me that investment is necessary and having the energy to maintain friendships is hard, finding people who understand when you don’t text back because you were out of action is hard, people think that they understand but they soon loose interest.

It is hard to let people in to my life and few people see me when I am unable to put up a mask of normality. Exhaustion just makes it too difficult. When the rare person spends more time with me and sees the symptoms as they develop they are usually shocked, the difference between me with energy and not is stark.

Recently I was at an event through the dance department at the gym, I looked around for somewhere to sit and felt overwhelmed, I crept into a seat out of the way, at the back. As people arrived they all headed towards other dance class members, suddenly I was aware of a clique and that I was not included. A few women smiled and said ‘hi’, to me but most all gathered into groups. I was feeling low and didn’t have the energy to wander amongst the crowd and knew that if I tried I would feel out of place. It got me thinking and left me feeling lonely.

Recently, after missing a number of dance classes, I returned, feeling energised and jolly, with a positive attitude it seemed that a number of class members came over to me to chat, so then I thought its down to me to make more effort. A lovely woman confided to me that another group member is driving her mad, apparently, the woman concerned is arriving late, (rude) blocking the view of instructor for others, and generally being disrespectful. Well I hadn’t noticed any of these misdemeanours and was shocked at the veracity of the complainant. Suddenly I was thinking to myself, oh dear, is this how I had started off in classes, have I made such mistakes? is that why it took so long to fit in to the group? I have always disliked cliques and realised that I am happier on the outside of such groups, so no more feeling sorry for myself.

Friendships feel like a minefield, they need effort and time, and I am not sure I will ever understand the correct etiquette of joining groups and so I am destined to remain on the side-lines. The majority of my friends are from long ago and long distance, so exist mainly in my phone, if I need a pep talk or advice, I get it, but its not the same as seeing people in person from time to time.

I used to crave people alike to myself, shared commonality, but finding people like myself proved difficult, over time I learned to appreciate the differences between me and others and learned that acceptance of each other is key to friendships. Still it was always a lovely moment when I made that instant connection with someone. Many adults are closed to the idea of new friendships, many formed their bonds in childhood and have stuck with them, then partners and children filled their time and any void left, work mates provide enough social connection for most and they simply don’t have time or energy for new relationships, this makes it hard for those of us looking to connect, but we must not give up, for not all are lucky enough to have all these connectives and people’s lives change, families dissolve, work changes and someone who felt filled can very easily become lonely.

The dreaded loneliness can over take any of us, no matter the people in our lives, at times I have felt I have worn the label of lonely on my head, daring people to speak to me, but as we all know, obvious signs of loneliness drive people away from us, as if we have a contagious disease. It is imperative that we learn to love and care for ourselves so that others can to.

In recent years my mum has become my best friend and now my daughter is becoming a friend also, but I still yearn for friendship, but feel it is always going to be slightly out of my reach. Oh well, time to appreciate all I have, rather than mourn for the things that allude me. Ultimately we are all alone, if we can not find peace within ourselves we are doomed. Our culture is set for our identities to be based on what we do and the people around us, we see ourselves through the eyes of others, but when we are alone we can rely only on ourselves and our own vision and imagery, this is a test of true self, to be alone and yet still have a solid identity is the ultimate party trick. To exist outside of the parameters of social convention, is to discover ourselves truly, to master our loneliness the ultimate achievement.

And so I accept my time alone for now, while keeping myself open to others and the possibility of new friendships.

Chris. xx

Glands Up.

Its been over a week now and my glands are up. I am not sure if it is just the change in temperature and season or I am doing too much? I feel like I am doing very little, I am always worse at this time of year, the cold gets into me and makes life harder.

My glands are hard rocks under my chin, my neck is swollen, making me look fat faced, I hate this. My throat is claggy, it feels uncomfortable when I swallow but for now my tonsils havent been triggered, small mercies. I fight it back each day, hoping each long nightly sleep will push it back, but each morning I awake and it is still there. It is hard to wake and move, each swollow is tight and my nose feels bunged. Maybe it is just a cold? But no, I know it is me and not some passing viral infection. It is my own bag of infection, lying in wait, waiting to pounce and take over, heading towards flu. I must fight it off. I should give in and get into bed, but I just have things to do and mostly I don’t want to.

Trying to function with this bloated head is tricky, my brain is dull and squidgy, thoughts are hard to reach. It takes over at least, making my pains below the neck seem insignificant. Outdoors the cold air strikes and the gritty feel in my mouth and throat creeps in, one step away from a mouth of glass shards, cutting in and ripping. My tonsils are tickly, they too are waiting for the opportunity to blow up. I am riding the line between mild symptoms and worse. My body sweats, hot and cold, my temperature gauge raging. I must beware.

I spray first defense up my nostrils, throat spray in my mouth, I drink hot toddies with orange juice and brandy, this is my best tip, this helps, it numbs and helps me sleep, The alcohol clears my throat briefly. I can manage like this for a little while, a few days to a week, its already been a week if not longer and I know I am in the real danger zone, I must stop soon and confine myself to bed or the sofa and rest it out, just not yet, I am holding on, desperate for a few hours of living.

My concentration is shot, my brain is trying not to shut down but it craves the dark silence. Why am I fighting, why not give in? Well because this is how it will be now, through these winter months, tonsilitas and flu always a step away. If I don’t try to function for short spurts at least I will shut down into full hibernation until spring. So I walk the cliff of the danger zone, trying to ignore the feeling, striving to think , to move, to feel, to live.

Here’s hoping I will win this fight.

Chris. xx

Fibro News.

Yesterday, Morning Live, showed a piece on Fibro,

Research has found that it is not a disease of the brain but of the immune system, affecting the nervous system. Better still, in mice they have been able to cause and cure Fibro. This bodes well for the future. Okay its probably a long way away but all research that understands such conditions is good news for us.

The answer lies in antibodies

Some day, one day, there is hope.

Chris. x

Write Handed.

Well I am back into a routine, sort of, but I forgot about my hands. It’s been a year nearly, since I disappeared from here. I’ve been pressing myself to get ahead and posts have been falling out of me. Ow, ow and ooch! my fingers are fat sausages ready to burst. My knuckles do not want to bend though they are in claw position and they hurt!

I remember when I fist started writing this, I had to pace myself and practice regularly to increase my stamina and typing ability. Well now I am back to square one and I have ignored my own advice and best practice. Why does this body have to hold me back? Its just a bit of writing, it should not be hard. The hardest part is fitting it into a routine and having my cognitive skills switched on. I write many of my posts in my head first, usually while I am stuck lying in bed, then it flows from me when I sit at a P.C. I had been reliant on the library, but with a new laptop, I am able to get out and about, not that I have managed to do that yet.

I have been writing at home, I have arranged a table area in my bedroom, I have my daughter’s cast off gaming chair, complete with bunny tail and ears, its super comfy and supportive. My room is a constant mess and I have realised recently, I like it this way, I feel cosy and comforted and enjoy being in here. It is my space, currently most things in it belong to me, it hasn’t always been that way, over the years it had become a dumping ground foe all kinds of household detritus. my clothes give it an air of a jumble sale, and I like it.

But my bloody hands, they feel like I’ve been subjected to hard labour, rather than light typing! How could I have forgotten about that? Its like each symptom is forgotten until the next time. So for now its back to the beginning, I must pace my fingers and their actions, no more blithely spewing out my words without thinking of the consequences. So here I stop for now and will add more later in the day, resting my hands in between. Hopefully I can build up gradually and reach a point where I can throw out my ideas without pain.

Its day’s later, I rested my hands, with no activity and they felt better, but then I had unavoidable physical chores to do and that was that. Hands balls of fire, all clawed up and useless. It is bloody frustrating, then I remember, I am alive and moving ,periodically, I am not bed ridden, its never far away but I am living a kind of live, limited but life. I must keep this in mind, we are not all so lucky,

Well I am back and pacing my efforts, no more writing until my mind is empty and my thoughts purged here. Careful and cautious. I am beginning to get ahead of myself, I have posts awaiting publication, I just have to remember to post them weekly, that is harder than it sounds. For now I must write no more than three short paragraphs and then rest my hands.

I really want to communicate my physical pain, even after doing so little but it is hard to find the words until it is on me again and then I can’t write. Small steps, I will get there. Being held back by your body is so difficult, I must pay attention to the symptoms before symptoms overwhelm me.

More soon,

Chris xx

Flat.

Eeeck! I fear my posts are falling flat. I have a good sense of humour and a passion for words, but I feel a flatness has taken over my posts. Maybe it isn’t surprising, things in my life have been a little negative recently, maybe I need to up my HRT?

I just feel boring, and fear this is pervading my posts. I think I need a run of cheerful topics and to practice being witty. Where to start? Well I am starting here with this flat, boring post. Sorry to inflict this on you. Maybe it’s not so bad, maybe it is just me feeling this and I am communicating a more upbeat vibe? I have had some positive feedback. But no, I am flat, my words are flat, I must do something about it.

Even as I say this to myself, I struggle to think of a topic, something bright and chirpy, positive and light. So I open this up to you my readers, send me some fun, silly topics and I will unleash my inner comedian. Yes that is what I need, to think like a comedy act and up my game.

Maybe I should ask the fount of all knowledge and wisdom in the world and ask google for some inspiration, yes maybe that is an idea. Stay tuned, some amusing words are on the way, I hope.

Inspire me.

Chris.xx

Cannabis Conundrum.

Recently, while visiting a friend I partook of this herb. Oh my! What a night! Now I knew well over twenty years ago when I was finally diagnosed, of the benefits of cannabis.

All that time ago I had a boyfriend who smoked it, he had left some behind at my place and then had the audacity to dump me, in the middle of my teaching day, and by text, yes text! Scumbag, well don’t worry I got my revenge. Out of spite that night I smoked a joint, not having done that before.

The next day I felt like I was on a cloud, I waltzed through my day, screaming inside that I had found my cure! Wow, the pain had vanished, just like that. I had discovered a marvelous secret, or had I? Turns out it was not so much of a secret. Telling my best friends about it, I discovered that they both liked it, but neither could roll a spliff. We were a team already but this cemented us, as a smoker, I had spent years rolling tobacco cigerettes, perfect, though I vowed to teach them. From then on we spent evenings, giggling, singing, laughing and munching cereal.

As teachers, we knew we were taking a risk but the side effects were worth it; eventually though reality took hold of us and as our lives took different directions so our smoking stopped. I was always too sensible and never liked the illegality of it so I packed my tin away. The tin is a story, two of us bought it for our third friend, it was covered in pink fluff, rather like the sexy knickers she had bought to seduce her married lover, we just had to. I laugh at the memory even now, when these friendships are just distant happy memories. Somehow it landed with me and I have treasured it.

Now all these years later, I sucked on that spliff, in the wet alleyway next to her house, thinking fuck it. She is a convert and uses it as her daily pain medication, looking into getting it legally. I had looked into getting it on the NHS and previously it had been allowed for chronic pain, on this night as we looked into it I saw pain had been removed from the list, damn it. Instead we have private companies offering it at a high cost, though my friend pointed out it works out cheaper than buying it from your friendly neighbourhood drug dealer.

Well back to the joy, I wobbled home, I am not used to this potency, as a long term user my friend knows her stuff, no wonder she doesn’t need other pain relief, but for me, I am a lightweight. A feeling of warm calm surged through me and I found myself waving my arms around and giggling. I did not sleep all night and the next day I felt it through me, inside and out, like my bones were wrapped in water bottles. Wow I felt good! Pain was a distant memory, it felt like a miracle. I snuggled up in new pajamas, men’s; with ankle cuffs, another tip from my friend, after I shared tripping over my trouser legs, under soft warm new bed covers. I felt like a cat curled in a fireplace.

Its amazing, just a few puffs on a joint and my pain was gone, I was relaxed, so relaxed and my muscles felt nice, Yes nice, I could repeat that word in my head, I felt nice. This lasted until the Wednesday, from Saturday, amazing.

The down side though, during this time, I did nothing, could do nothing. The sense of urgency that I had chores to complete, just left me, I lost all motivation to action. Just stopped, still, feeling warm and fuzzy and nice. Is this the draw back? We know stoners are seen as time wasters, doing nothing, will I become one of them? Would it be too bad? Maybe I just had too much, maybe if I started using it regularly, with a lower dose and build up cautiously, maybe I can harness the effects for good. Maybe?

Then how to get it, do I hang in a seedy pub looking for strangers to deal me some? Could I trust a stranger, don’t I risk arrest. Ask a friend? then they become a dealer and that is bad. Enough for personal use, would most police bother? Then there is the smell. As I walk around our estate I could get high by standing near a number of houses. Its rife, I don’t have a problem with it, its better than drink, but that smell, its horrid!

Then there are the mental health implications, long ago I knew a woman, who’s adulthood was marred by psychosis, from smoking dope in her younger years. Apparently it is not good for younger brains and over use can cause very distressing long term mental illness. That is off putting.

Well I want my drugs free and from the NHS, so I am not about to start relying on weed, maybe I will have a go with one of these companies and test out vaping it gradually or swallowing gummies. Maybe, I will just find some illegally, just for occasions, when I have nothing to do, just a reset, maybe?

Oh it is a mighty conundrum!

OOh if you get the chance try it! Tell me what you think. Can this be a cure, as simple as that, should we protest for change in the law, demand medical cannabis! I think we should and if I had the energy I certainly would.xx