From Seizures to Serenity: My Journey with Cannabis as Medicine

My partner gently tilts my head down to the bong. I inhale and take a mighty hit as they pull the bowl out for me. My arms flail less and my twitching soothes. “You’re doing great.” Inhale, exhale. The twitching stops completely, and I can move my head again. 

No one knows exactly what’s wrong with me. After multiple tests, my old neurologist told me it was in my psychiatrist’s hands — hinting at the fact that a misfire in the brain may not be the cause of my episodes, but rather trauma that is manifesting physically as a functional, non-epileptic seizure. 

More recently, I developed movement disorders from being on antipsychotics for too many years. I experience involuntary movements and muscle contractions ranging from a painful grimace to swinging arms to a twisted, unmoving neck.

Being a medical mystery is frustrating, to say the least. Hours of my day are spent twitching, spasming, and convulsing. But there’s one medicine that reliably helps ease almost all of my symptoms and seizures — and that medicine is, of course, cannabis.

Gaining My Life Back

It’s scary losing control over my body, but it would be a lot scarier without cannabis. 

Often it’s just one arm or just my neck, and I can still hit my bong by myself. My partner or support worker helps when more of my body is affected. There have been times walking down the street when we have to take a sitting break so my partner can hold a joint to my lips, soothing my body as onlookers wonder what’s happening.

It’s such a wave of relief when my muscles relax, when the seizing stops, or when my toes become free to move again. Cannabis helps me regain my bodily autonomy and freedom to move. My life would look completely different without it.

The Wake and Bake

There’s a lot of stigma around “waking and baking.” This is a slang term that refers to the act of waking up and immediately smoking. In reality, when done responsibly, there’s nothing inherently wrong with smoking in the morning. And for many medical cannabis patients, it’s a health necessity.

I always have at least a little bit of cannabis in my system throughout the day to keep my endocannabinoid system activated. I do this through a combination of tinctures and smoking periodically. Since smoking is the fastest way to feel the effects of cannabis, I always smoke soon after waking up.

Smoking in the morning is a very sacred time for me. I sit in a sunny window and mindfully consume my medicine, taking my time and preparing for the day ahead. The ritual adds rhythm to my days, which can easily blend together in the summertime when I have to stay inside because of the heat.

Staying Occupied

I can’t go outside at all without an episode being triggered once it gets too warm outside. Opening the window for over a few moments can be too much heat for me. During the hottest part of the year, even the mornings and nights are too hot. 

It’s hard not to go stir-crazy locked up in the same apartment for weeks and months at a time, but cannabis makes it easier. Being medicated throughout the day relaxes me so that I don’t feel so pent up. After smoking, the windows transform from being barriers to the outside world, to portals for me to people-watch and enjoy the skyline.

I also intentionally consume strains that induce euphoria when I’m feeling emotionally stuck, and they always help me reset my headspace and find joy in the little things, even if those little things are confined to the apartment. Sometimes my activities feel limited, but the right strain can unlock my creativity and reignite my passion for hobbies like playing guitar and journalling.

Final Thoughts

I have my dream job; helping cannabis consumers learn about their medicine is an honor. Cannabis gave me my life back, and I strive to return the favor to others through my work. 

I’m incredibly grateful to this apartment for holding me in my time of need. Although I’m excited to step outside once it cools down a bit, I’m okay with my indoor life. I always joke that I’m an indoor cat or a vampire. 

But really, I’m just someone with disabilities, like millions worldwide who are also homebound — whether for part of the year, a few years, in waves, or permanently. I know we’re all in our apartments, connected by longing, frustration, healing, hope, despair, joy, and, of course, the lovely wake and bake.