//prologue: life before the leaf.//
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Being the daughter of parents who lived their life as hippies is weird enough. But being the friend to someone who does cocaine in your room, that's even weirder. Nothing, however, can trump the acid offer in high school.
That's just some parts of my mother's life. She's from what I've known her- funny, ready to insult you as long as she doesn't know you, and always been in some sort of pain. Pain from her past, from her brother emotionally and physically. When I was younger sure, it wasn't bad. In fact, I remember the bike rides when I was ages 5 to 8 or the walks when I was 7, and the games we would play.
When I was 8 1/2 or so, it all stopped. The bike rides home, my mom's back hurt too much. The walks, she'd feel pain in her neck or spine. She'd been diagnosed, not with a deadly disease, but with labels. Degenerative Disk disease and bulging discs. Okay, so sort of a disease. I remember constantly going to doctors with my mom- our versions of outings.
She was given dozens of medications. OxyContin, phentinol patches, Morphine, Baclofen, and so many more. My mother had also been diagnosed with depression and anxiety after all these medical problems, with no relief from her medications.
At first, it wasn't bad. The downfall though came quicker than we all thought.However, through dozens of medications, acupuncture, and even alcohol which is a big no no in Islam, one drug prevailed.
Marijuana.
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thanks for reading!
xo, salmie
YOU ARE READING
Memoirs of a Marijuana Mom
Humor"And the crazy thing?" My mom mutters to me, turning to face me as she drives. "I'm not even that high," Grace Hassan is a mother of one, wife of a Pakistani man, and avid smoker of weed. Her daughter, Luna has seen her mom in pain, in tears- in a...
