#5001 ·
Laura Castillo6 said:When we’re talking about altered states of consciousness—take an epileptic seizure, for instance, or a psychotic break—you can't really just talk someone through it. It’s not like a normal conversation helps when the person experiencing it has lost their grip on themselves or can't even process what reality is anymore. In those moments, I feel like consciousness itself is being fundamentally shifted or distorted. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Consciousness
An altered state can be anything from a coma to being high or drunk, though with alcohol or drugs, it’s usually tied directly to how much you’ve taken. You could get pretty buzzed at a bar and still have a pretty good idea of where you are. But when someone is mid-psychosis or having a seizure, trying to convince them that psychotherapy will fix things is pretty much impossible until they're back on level ground with reality.
THC has actually been shown to be incredibly effective for treating seizures or IH episodes. http://www.thedoctorstv.com/articles...treat-seizures
Even Ecstasy MDMA has shown success in treating PTSD; in clinical settings, very short-term use can lead to full, lasting remission. http://www.thedoctorstv.com/articles...erapy-for-ptsd
Of course, this isn't news to anyone who's been paying attention for the last 30 years or so. The real issue is that because marijuana and Ecstasy MDMA are often abused for recreational purposes, and because Big Pharma loves its competition, these highly effective medical treatments stay out of reach for most people.
My old man actually gave me the green light to dip into his stash of cancer medication here and there—just a little bit here, a little bit there—though I can't say I feel particularly moral about it. It’s one of those things that stays tucked away in the back of your mind, isn't it? That nagging sense of guilt that follows you around like a bad smell, even when you think you've gotten away with it. Not that he seems to mind, or perhaps he just doesn't care anymore—it's hard to tell with him lately—but still, it feels a bit heavy. Life is strange like that, full of these small, quiet transgressions that don't seem to matter much in the grand scheme of things, yet they weigh on you nonetheless.
I took two drops yesterday—and then another two today. To be clear, we’re talking about THC oil—but... well, there's more to the story than just the dosage.
Look, there are plenty of different grades out there—some are decent, some are absolute garbage—but this right here? This is the gold standard. It’s top-tier stuff. I mean, we’re talking about a price tag of $2,600 for just 40ml... which, let’s be honest, is enough to make anyone wince—but when you want the best of the best, you pay the premium.
He mentioned he’s going to pick up some more of that—yeah, the THC—quite soon. Honestly, when he first started the therapy, the side effects were hitting him like a freight train... just absolutely brutal.
Well, I suppose I was the one who taught him how to handle it—though, looking back, I can't say if that was a stroke of brilliance or just my own stubbornness getting the better of me. It’s funny, really—how we think we're passing down wisdom when we're mostly just passing on our own complicated habits.
We were actually discussing it while driving—I brought it up during the commute—and I made sure he knew that I've been a regular smoker for about four and a half years now.
Well, I told them—I really did—that it’s worth a shot. Honestly, why not? Sometimes you just have to take the leap and see where the chips fall.
It’s that sensation—that profound, bone-deep sense of total relaxation washing over both the mind and the body—without that jarring, overwhelming "hit" that just knocks you sideways. It's subtle, really... almost meditative, if you can call it that. Unlike those other substances that just smash your system against the wall, this feels more like a slow, steady descent into calm. I remember once, back when I was living in Chicago, sitting in a quiet corner of a library—it was one of those old, dusty places where the air feels heavy with history—and experiencing something similar; just a quiet, peaceful settling of the soul. It doesn't wreck you; it just lets you *be*.
Honestly, when you finally light up some THC... it’s just pure, unadulterated stillness. You just sit there, let the mind settle, let the body go limp—it's almost meditative. None of that relentless, intrusive racing thoughts bullshit. No psychosis, no spiraling, nothing. Once the edge is taken off, the depression just... evaporates. It's the only thing that actually works.
I’m sitting here at a local Starbucks—one of those places where everyone seems to be pretending to work while actually just staring blankly at their laptops—trying to squeeze this out between sips of overpriced caffeine.
Look, if I’m going to take some kind of banned substance—and believe me, I know how much people love to judge—then fine, let them judge. But let’s get one thing straight: this isn't recreation. This is medicine! It is quite literally my lifeline.
Honestly—since he started taking it—he’s been a completely different person. He used to be so incredibly rigid, almost painfully tense in everything he did—you know how some people just carry the weight of the world in their shoulders? Well, he was like that. But now? He’s much more relaxed, calmer, and actually quite gentle. It's quite a transformation, really.
