Weeks 2,3&4 of Medical Marijuana: What’s the Hurry?

As you probably inferred from the title of this post, in the past few weeks I’ve learned to slow down and live my life at my own pace. The damnedest thing happened when I did though; I started getting way more done in the day! Somehow by slowing down and really focusing on a task I’ve wound up integrating a bunch more tasks, like little side quests, into my day. It brought to mind the saying that Slow is Steady, Steady is Fast, and I wrote it into my ThoughtsBook:

I’ve busied myself with doing the hundreds of little tasks that I’ve been meaning to get round to doing, but with fibromyalgia I just didn’t have the energy. It was like my body was literally drained of every last morsel of energy and I had a terrible lethargy nestled deep within my soul.

Sound a little dramatic? Yeah, well, I’m a bit of a performer at heart actually, though I’ll often come across as shy. I’ve become an introvert in public but I’m a crazy lady with my closest people. The more I trust you, the more I’ll dance and play and sing and over-exaggerate everything when I’m around you; because I always give in to my child self.

Poor kid, she doesn’t get to play noisily at home. Someone give her a tambourine.

Everything I do becomes a game, because by slowing down I can find the joy in each task I engage in. I took this photo of the game I played by walking to the plant nursery to buy a Schefflera for Matthew’s office. I feel like that plant has its own history now; the amusing story of me juggling the pushcart and the plant down the street while feeling fabulous about my little adventure. I did so many adult things that day, but all of them were games, not chores or errands.

I’ve filled my wardrobe with clothes I love; clothes that express my love of colour and pattern, clothes made from fabrics that feel good against my body and clothes that are durable but still feminine. I’d convinced myself that I didn’t deserve to feel good, so I didn’t wear many of the clothes that I felt best in.

Now, after spending some time enjoying those clothes while high and thinking about my self-image; I’m convinced that I am allowed to feel good, in my body, in my clothes, and in myself. I’ve been changing into different outfits depending on my mood and my next planned activity and having so much fun with it. Our bedroom has become the backstage area of the theatre that I’m turning our house into. I want each area to have a vibe that corresponds to its purpose – the bedroom for privacy and peace, the lounge and kitchen for relaxing, office and art room for getting into deep focus. I choose my outfits according to the kind of experience that I want to have during my next activity.

For example, as I’m writing this, I’m wearing a skirt that used to be beige but I dyed it mustard yellow, and a soft, floaty green blouse with a comfy sports bra, both of which I bought after gym today for the sole purpose of creating a focusing outfit so I could finally find it in myself to sit at my desk with my laptop and finish this post because I’ve been working on it piecemeal for almost a week now. And it’s worked. I got dressed specially for this, so now I’m committed.

I got dressed up to paint, with Minnie mouse ears. I couldn’t get a good selfie with both “ears” in the pic so I made this trippy mirrored self portrait to illustrate that there were two hairbuns, not just one.

Resolving Trauma

My theory is that fibromyalgia is a state in which a person has experienced a lot of unresolved trauma in their lifetime. Personally I’ve had numerous physical insults in the form of injury and illness that I feel I still haven’t fully recovered from, and plenty of disruptive experiences that effected my identity; leading to a crisis in which I had no emotionally stable identity to return to after experiencing yet another upset.

An example of this is the fact that I used to take great pride in being Matthew’s housewife. It was a huge part of my identity. I felt proud to be the wife of a man who can afford to keep a housewife, and proud to create an environment in which we could explore and celebrate ourselves and our relationship. Sadly, I was mocked by people whose opinion I cared far too much about. They said I was crazily obsessed with cleaning, that I was taking advantage of my husband by not working, that they were too good to do such menial work themselves so if I enjoy domestic chores it must mean that I’m no better than a housemaid. They were down on my husband too, some claiming that he was exploiting me (when it was actually many of them who were exploiting my willingness to help them out with domestic stuff), and some saying that he’d trapped me in a situation that was beneath me, like he was supposed to encourage me to go out and have a flashy career instead of being a housewife.

Aside – The reality of my forays into working for others was that when the boss wasn’t trying to sleep with me, I would be turned down at interviews because having a woman on the team of animators would be “too distracting” for the existing all-male team. And then there were the bosses who didn’t pay me or who offered me an unpaid internship to run their company. I’m not built for survival in the world of work and business and careers. I’m too sensitive and too submissive. I had a breakdown in my twenties from the stress of it all and that’s when Matthew said, “Don’t worry about it; you be the homemaker, I’ll be the breadwinner.” It’s a situation that works to our individual strengths.

In amongst all that negativity and nonsense, I lost the part of myself that is a domestic goddess. My cleaning, cooking, shopping, bathing or feeding or walking the dog, organising, tending to plants and arranging rooms according to the time of day… I lost the joy of doing those things.

With the medical marijuana, and my newfound ability to slow down, think things through and actually see what my hangups are; I’ve rediscovered myself as a domestic goddess. I potter around the house endlessly. I do laundry while dancing and singing and arranging the wet items on my clothes horse *beautifully*. I chop and cook vegetables to be always available for us to snack on instead of higher calorie options, and to share with our dog whose appetite is troublesome nowadays because she’s developed liver cancer. (Like all sick dogs she will gobble down treats but often pull faces when presented with a full meal). I allow myself to become mesmerised by the bathroom sink filled with bleachy water, and I engulf myself in its heady fragrance by swishing my gloved hands in it between wiping down surfaces in the bathroom. I love it, I love it, I love the smell of bleachy water.

My chores are my rituals. It’s how I bless our marriage; with clean, smooth sheets on the bed and fresh towels in the bathroom to end off a delicious shower. We cook in a clean kitchen, cuddle in a tidy living room, poop in a sweet-smelling bathroom and in the quiet moments we have art and plants to meditate on. I love our home, I love our marriage and I am so extremely proud to be the housewife of a Good Earner and a Gentleman.

We’ve recently installed some extra shelves in our living room for storing hubby’s bread and biltong toys and my fermenting toys. This freed up a lot of table space which I have claimed as part of my eating space, under our happy ZZ plant. Now that I’ve moved into the extra table room, Big Bear gets more elbow and knee room in his eating space.
This is my new fermenting shelf, where I brew up rooibos and hibiscus kombucha, coconut and oat kefir, date water kefir and my favourite stinky fermented vegetables like onions, radishes and beetroot.

My physical ailments are responding well to the cannabis too. I very rarely wake up in the night with fibromyalgia pain anymore, and after getting up to pee in the night I fall asleep pretty easily on most nights. I still struggled with insomnia during my period, but that’s okay. I kind of like my monthly nocturnal hobby nights where I get up and read or write or draw because it’s invaluable time with myself.

I still struggle to get up and out of bed many mornings because I have fibro pain, or a spot of misery about… Well you know, I’m still figuring that out. I wake up every morning into yet another day post-fallout with our families and I’m still figuring out how to wake up into this post-apocalyptic world with a smile on my face. There’s a lot of stuff inside me that still hurts, even though we moved away from our home country of South Africa nine years ago. The knowledge that when I get out of bed and have a vape and a drop of CBD&CBG oil I’ll feel alright about my place in the world is helpful at the moment to get me to cross the threshold of the bedroom into the main house and start my day.

At present it’s enough to get me out of bed, but I’m making all sorts of plans to reach a point in myself where I pop out of bed with a grin instead of a grimace, even if I have fibromyalgia pain, and gracefully ease myself and my household into a beautiful new day that is so rich with potential and flush with promise.

Right now, what it takes for me to see the beauty in my world is medical marijuana, but one day I’m just not going to need it anymore. The cannabis will have done its job, and I will have done as much work with it as I need and then we will part ways; friends who catch up every other weekend instead of being together every day…

This is my second High Painting. Occasionally I will set up my art room for oil painting, have a vape and then immediately return to my art room to continue work on my current High Painting. I’ll write more about these High Paintings in other blog posts here on my site but for now I just wanted to show you this piece because I think it is simply brilliant and worth sharing with the world.