No, I Won’t Give Up My Vape

Image by Amber Rose, via Creative Commons.

I’m not a hippy.

I was too young to be one back in the frolicking sixties. And I’m way the hell too old to be one now. So don’t go thinking that I was stoner in my youth.

But now, at the not so tender age of 63, I am a devoted and grateful user of marijuana on a daily basis.

Here’s the story of how I changed from the frowning Mother of pot-smoking kids to a radical fan of cannabis culture.

My story began about 10 years ago. I was the mom of three adult offspring, a fifth-grade teacher, a doggie momma and the wife of my very first serious boyfriend.

Although I have always been healthy and hearty, I found myself suddenly grappling with mysteriously annoying physical symptoms. Pain all across my back and shoulders. Inexplicable but overwhelming muscle fatigue. Pins and needles in my feet and up my shins. Vertigo that gave me dreams of sea voyages and spinning carousels. Mental fog and a sense of brain fatigue that I couldn’t even explain.

And insomnia. Night after night of falling asleep, then jerking awake to see that a mere ten minutes had passed on the clock. Sleeping for five hours, but waking up exhausted.

And friend after friend who suggested that it might just be in my head.