Sunday, July 14, 2019


I knew from the moment that I had my first edible that my body and mind reacts poorly to this  substance.  "In the couch" feels more like "in your thoughts" as every attempt to enjoy it has led me down a road of paranoia, embarrassment and self consciousness.

The first time: "You cant let your family see me like this!" My mind swirled and laughing at nothing was painful.  I tried to make myself throw up and prayed that time would catch up with itself.

Another time: "You can be cunt, but tonight you went too far." I yelled at a friend and cried at a laundromat by myself.  Overwhelmed with feeling under appreciated and insulted. I was sensitive and burdening myself.

Last night: "Am I really too touchy?" Then seeing my friend respond like I just raped him.  He shoved me and pivoted into the crowd.  A comment and gesture that didn't mean anything.  I found myself crying at a table for a moment;  I was overwhelmed with embarrassment and irrational fear of losing another long term friend for another stupid reason.  I walked home, I sent an apology text.  I let myself release pressure that I didn't know I had.

Aren't these substances supposed to be fun?  They were legalized for a reason.  Recreational and available.  Before that moment, I ran into a client and bought her drinks; bought myself a ton more to get myself there because I was blending work and pleasure and needed to loosen up.  She handed me an innocent looking little strip of "sour candy."  And we danced together... she became comfortable and danced closer with her fiance another Latina.  This is my life, surrounded by QPOC - queer, people of color.  POC being a term that I had to explain to my white male coworker who rebutted, "how many people know that term?"  "EVERYONE I know uses it daily," I responded sharply.  I'm reminded how I'd rather be with my clients than with my coworkers who are trapped in a space so disconnected from my reality.

I made it halfway on my 2 mile walk home before Jimmy picked me up; my new shirt was drenched in overpriced alcohol. “It’s so dangerous” he told me... “so are these substances” I thought.  I was happy to see him, but happier that my friend acknowledged my apology text with something more than just two words.


Early in the day, I talked to a friend about his fear of not waking up.

Jimmy responded, "I'm not scared because I find peace in nothingness and that I'm happy with what I've done with my life so far."

I responded, "I don't think about that because I'm pretty focused on the present.  Death really doesn't cross my mind."

My friend told me that while he visited Berkeley he overheard some kids say something provocative, "When we die, it's as if we were never born."

We continued to talk openly about antidepressants, trauma, death at our local Peruvian joint.