Having come from a strict Colombian family, weed was a sore subject in the ‘80s. My parents left Colombia before the Escobar days, but, the news portrayed Colombia as the drug capital of the world. My parents wanted to escape that image. One of the aspects to reject was the idea of marijuana being a part of us. So, naturally, they considered it vile, the devil!

In seventh grade, my friends decided to take me on my first weed experience during spring break. My sister even came with and drove us to the river. It was a hike and then a sit around the water. From what I can remember, it started with a joint, then a bowl, then a shotgun hit from friend sitting next to me, then a few blunts, and finally, all I could notice was the sky spinning. I was laying on the forest leaves, listening to giggles off in the distance. I wasn’t worried about dad, or my grades, or the confusion of existing. I was in bliss with myself. It was just me, the trees and the sky. I never had that before. I fell in love.

My boyfriend finally appeared from above my head, “You alright? HAHA!” I was alright. I was very alright. I was finally enjoying myself. Loving my body’s feeling. Loving the earth around me. Loving my friends and my sister. It was just a beautiful time. I could see trails as arms waved. Had I known then I would never get that high again, and I would have begged to camp for a week. But, alas, we headed home later that afternoon.

I never tried weed again until there was a promise to be far from parents. My father terrified me enough to not even dare it. I didn’t want to even attempt a lie because I couldn’t lie to him. So, utilizing the fact that our parents would visit Latino clubs and dance to merengue well into the morning hours, we found a few times to partake. Those were some of the few times I was free enough to truly have fun with friends. I didn’t have fear. I was finally enjoying my youth, all because of weed.

As an adult, I never considered it. I viewed it as a deterrent from getting things done. Then, in 2014, my father died of lung cancer. The following year I got divorced. While living alone, a friend was over and asked me if I wanted any weed. From that point in 2015 and on I have been married to Mary Jane. She has held my sanity. However, due to being in healthcare, I had to deal with that stressor of morals and legalities. Finding some middle ground with it, I determined that nothing was able to help me get to sleep like Mary Jane did, so, I just made that decision and lived with guilt. Guilt of knowing I was a bad citizen. At least, that’s how I used to feel.

I was a nurse for over five years before I got the offer to be a cannabis nurse. What that entailed was assessing medical documents from a patient interested in using marijuana for medical necessities. I got quick enough at assessing documents within minutes, and spent the rest of the visit suggesting strains and dispensaries. After a while, I knew this was my favorite job - ever. I got immediate satisfaction from seeing positive results in patients. Patients were grateful and at ease with me. It was glorifying. Just a positive experience. But of course, things never last.

On my first mushroom trip in 2020, I saw a visual hallucination of a marijuana plant, specifically a bud flower, growing continuously in my vision, taking over my entire screen of vision. I was overtaken by the beauty, especially overtaken by the feeling of the beauty while on mushrooms. I love marijuana for so many reasons, and I feel like that trip showed me how precious this plant is. It allowed me to heal from my dad’s death and beyond.

I have a regimen now due to the ease of visiting dispensaries. The best part of having the ability to access this plant at will is the control aspect. It’s not complete control because of approval processes, but, I remember feeling out of control in my pain relief with pharmaceuticals. I remember reaching a plateau on relief and doctors increasing dosages. I remember how ill it made me feel. With the control I have now, I have less of a dramatic time targeting and healing the pain. What more could you ask for? Rights, I suppose.

I think it’s a funny idea that weed is considered a gateway drug into narcotics. I’ve been using it straight for seven years and I’ve been able to shed all prescription medications. Every day there’s new attempts to pass legislation for more rights to this natural-given remedy. I hope more people continue to listen to their friends and family when speaking of the pain relief and emotional respite that marijuana brings.

Something new I have discovered about marijuana is that it was always guiding me to truth. It’s on the same path as any other psychoactive fruit, and it leads you to a calmer and peaceful thought process. If one consumed enough THC I am sure you could hallucinate, but it does not seem to be for that. It almost seems that Earth created this plant as the side-lying cheerleader along our path, happily rooting for us as we pass on by.