Reefer Madness & the Cliches of Being a Lady Stoner

The lovely readers of my blog have no idea about a certain part of my life: I smoke marijuana. If you met me in person, you'd probably never know - not that I'm ashamed, but I'm fairly discreet about that part of my lifestyle. I find that women who smoke are often portrayed as being lazy and unkempt - the classic "hippie," am I right? Because I am so "put-together" and feminine, people don't usually expect it from me.

When I was sixteen, after a series of physically traumatic events, I began to notice that I was fatigued all the time and had body aches which never seemed to go away. I began having cognitive issues and became sensitive to intense light and sound. I saw many doctors who tried just about everything: blood testing for diseases like lupus and leukemia, vitamin supplements for possible deficiencies... the list goes on and on. I've struggled with depression and anxiety from a young age, and my symptoms only seemed to worsen those issues. Finally, when I was eighteen, I saw a great rheumatologist who spoke the words which answered years of questions: You have fibromyalgia. It wasn't an answer I'd been hoping for, but at least I could stop wondering. I was prescribed Lyrica, but because it's recommended for older adults, I was warned about how it could affect my mental health - and it sent me down a dark hole of sadness and confusion. I've learned that prescription pills are just not for me.

A couple of years ago, I embraced marijuana as a medicine. I've smoked on-and-off recreationally for a long time - I think I was fourteen when I hit my first foil bowl - ha ha! But, I've never been a regular smoker. It still feels odd to call myself a "stoner" - maybe because of all the negative connotation behind that word.