Navigating the workplace as a medical cannabis patient with PTSD

The sun’ll come out, to-mor-row!

You bet your medical cannabis dollar it will.

But the sunshine doesn’t come cheap! I’m doing better after yet another expensive trip to the dispensary, deemed necessary after a night of flashing lights three doors down.

But I need the income I’m accustomed-to to maintain this level of medicine! So, think about that a second. Think about people with PTSD who are not writers, or who cannot otherwise work from home (no need to interact with others aside from occasional interview).

Many people with PTSD cannot work. I certainly cannot envision myself working ANYWHERE publicly, meaning in a public place, in my town. There are too many people who I could offer a slice of my mind to, at any time.

I am blessed in what I do, so long as the work keeps coming. Self-employed. Work from home. I create pretty much in a vacuum, and it’s awesome.

Think of the stigma (heck, the drug test! how do you get past that as a medical cannabis patient, especially if it’s random?) a medical cannabis patient seeking employment faces. I understand this scrutiny for some jobs, but not others.

On top of it, let me tell you something. This stuff costs a fortune. People who are buying it on the street gasp when I tell them what it costs. But that’s fine. My stuff is tailor-made for my medical condition, made in a controlled, regulated greenhouse, and not purchased from a dealer who might go psycho and lace my shee-ot, thank you very much.

Last night was rough: Too many flashing lights

I won’t dwell about what happened last night, because I have no idea what actually happened. I just know the flashing lights, the location of the incident three doors down from me…it all added up to a huge and massive trigger.

But here’s the thing. I never once called the police department last night. And that is really, really huge, given what the whole thing looked like to me regardless of whatever happened. People have asked today if I am going to call down to the RIPD and ask what happened, or play reporter and go ask to look at the police report.

No. That’s the worst thing I could do. It doesn’t matter what happened. I need to try to forget about it. It was after the police left that I began to trigger. At least while they were there I felt safe.

For me, work isn’t just about income. It’s about staying busy. I have a lot of energy. That said, if I am overwhelmed with work, it becomes too much. Then, that can be a problem. It’s why I let Vital Updates go. It’s a fine line.

My point is, any idle time I have means I might look at QCTimes.com, or the Scott County Sheriff inmate listing…all things I just need to not even look at. Ever. It’s too much right now. I had stopped doing all of these things (and also stopped watching local news on TV) and was doing much better.

Had I not seen the Quad-Cities Most Wanted story and noticed the son of the former owner of this house on it, I would have not even begun the PTSD freak-out cycle that actually started last week. Then, for last night to happen…let’s just say I reported two years ago – correct? – when I first learned that “yeah, Uncle Benny’s house was the big party house!”

It’s all sickening and chilling and disgusting in the context of EV-ER-Y-THING that has happened to me. I hope my house is not contaminated with meth-making materials. My brother made the joke about “under the crawl space” and “under the floor of the shed,” after all, upon learning Frank Fitzpatrick is on the QC Most Wanted list.

Now I’ll stop.

If I hadn’t had medical cannabis this past week, hard telling how I would have handled all of this (or not). Not to mention some severe financial stress after losing a massive client of two years.

But the truth is, the client was a gem and even is offering to give me a reference. Why I have not focused on that I do not know. I feel like an outcast in my local community.

Thank God I have worked almost exclusively for national clients the past two years. The dishonest evildoers in my community told lies and fervently tried to make me look bad just as I totally pulled it all together, was fiercely watching over my dad, walking everywhere with no vehicle…for a year. I had sustained this for a year. Everything was fine, until I was poisoned, or whatever the hell happened.

Give. Me. A. Break. They threw me in jail on no charges at all after I reported something that has become quite scandalous. In fact, I called them about something else, then was questioned about what has turned out to be a big local story.

I keep hearing I might get a logical explanation. That would be fine. I doubt any logical explanation is coming, however. An explanation may be coming, that’s for sure.

It’s just becomingly increasingly obvious every day how crooked a lot of people in Rock Island County governance are and it is making me even antsier for the justice I may never see.

There are people in powerful positions in this county who are quite sick.

NOW that I have that out, and took 300 words to do it, oy, I want to say that I have landed a very good paying assignment for a huge healthcare company. It occurs to me nobody needs to even know who my clients are on content I produce that’s not bylined. (Update: The gig did not work out, and it was an extremely poor fit anyhow)

So, there’s a workaround for any client who doesn’t want to affiliate with the medical pot guy!

It also is an incredibly important assignment as it pertains to improving patient outcomes for the elderly.  We all know that’s something I can get passionate about.

My gig is unusual and incredible, and probably about as good as it gets for a medical cannabis patient. And yet, I still struggle during transitions of client to client.

What about all the military people with PTSD with a cannabis card? They are paying these prices too, and if they have PTSD and were in the service, chances are employment is extraordinarily difficult for them. What are they supposed to do?

Check out the VA’s disgraceful medical cannabis policy.

What about victims of violent crime – rape, attempted murder – who are angry and cannot function properly in the workplace? And then, to make the only effective treatment for some of them so pricey it’s out of reach? I am NOT complaining about the price of medical cannabis. I’m saying insurance should help pay for it.

The only people laughing at that are completely healthy, judgmental people who never have smoked medical cannabis. I assure you.

Outrageous.

No health plan on earth (or at least in the U.S.) that I know of is going to pay for your medical cannabis at this time, even if you have the best health plan on earth.

It’s wrong.

Medical cannabis reviews are fun, fun, fun

I am having a nice day watching concerts on AXSTV. And this is all happening the day after a difficult night.

Tomorrow I hope to wake up fresh and spend the entire day on my paid assignment, for which I am excited about and extremely grateful.

But today I’m enjoying my NTI bounty: Brownie Scout, Cuvee, Brazil Amazonia, Ghost x Flo, and Shangri-la.

To think all I went in for was the “Smoke Sessions” special – free joint with purchase of eighths of certain strains.

I bought an eighth of Bio Jesus, which is awesome. You can check out my review of Bio Jesus right here. I’m not a joint person, but since it’s pre-rolled and I don’t have to do it, I’m going to spark up my free joint in a minute.

And heck yeah, I’m going to review every single one of those other above-mentioned strains I purchased today. I never have tried them before.

Check them out right here, at DavidHeitz.com.

Recovery and mental wellness through medical cannabis. Every day.

You won’t want to miss my fun little reviews!

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