The Long Version (Details of My Life)

This is a story about Life, Love, Heartache and HOPE!

My name is Christopher Charles Cialdella. I’m using my full name because my father would be proud that I’m telling this story. I spent the past 2.5 years writing this, not with the intention of presenting it, I just happened to start writing as a way to preserve my sanity.

I have 2 disclaimers:


I want to make something clear in case something I say is misunderstood. The only issue I had with opiates was taking them as prescribed.  I have never purchased an opiate that was not prescribed to ME. In fact I have given back the opiates I did not use.


Please forgive me for using different names for cannabis. It is widely known by a few names and some fit better than others.

I’d like to share with you my story about, injury, prescribed addiction, recovery and natural pain management.

When I was 18 I left my dream job of building racing engines to join my father in the family business. We had a fun array of businesses ranging from manufacturing metal rulers and infrared dryers to stamping greeting cards. His forman quit soon after I joined the team so I grew up quickly and started running the shop. I had to keep the equipment running and make product. I did sales and service as well. It all came naturally to me except the paperwork. That’s where I fell short. My father was very organized and we worked very well as a team. We had some extra space so I started a few businesses in search of my passion. I had a tire and break shop, I bought and sold equipment, then I started an online book business selling out of print and rare books. The books were a dream come true. My father loved it. At one point I had over 200,000 books. For someone that can barely read it was kind of ironic. It was simple enough to run that it allowed me the time to keep my repair work going. I focused on repairing Personal Water Craft, jetskis and waverunners. Ever since I was old enough to rent one you couldn’t keep me away.

What I’m getting at is life was good!!! I was working for and with my father, my best friend. What could have been better?

One day I went to kneel down to fix a toilet. It felt like someone stuck an ice pick in my back. I went to the doctor and he said it was a muscle spasm. He gave me Percocet and flexerill. Pain killler and muscle relaxers. For someone that barely drank this was a new experience. All of a sudden I felt goofy. The pain went away after a couple weeks and I put the goofy pills in a drawer. From then on I would get that ice pick pain in my back once in a while. If I didn’t have any painkillers I would go to the dr and get more. No big deal.

The pain progressively became a constant annoyance. I went to a surgeon and he said, if you’re lucky you’ll last till you’re 50 and get surgery then. I remember thinking no way can I deal with this for 30 years. I did PT but there wasn’t much relief.  A year later by the grace of god, I herniated two discs and couldn’t walk.  Instantly I was crippled. I had to have to have surgery. Before surgery there were approvals that had to be done so it took a few weeks before I could get in for the operation. Once I had surgery I instantly felt like I had an ice pick in the back of each leg and someone was banging on them. I was regretting the surgery and swore he did something wrong. Dr. Cook from university orthopedics explained to me that it was like having a rubber band around your finger for a month and then releasing it, only with your spinal cord. They started me on a Demerol injection and oral Percocet regimen till the pain was bearable. The next day I was watching the clock. At 7 am I called my father to come get me. I wanted out. I felt awful and I wanted to at least be around people I knew. I remember one resident telling me, you need to stop taking those pills because they are very addictive. I don’t know his name but I remember his face and the words coming out of his mouth.

I stopped taking them when I got home but the Pain was insane. I called Dr. Cook and he said you should start to feel better in two weeks, take the pills till the pain is bearable. He was 100% correct. Two weeks later I started to feel a little better so I stopped taking the pills. That night I started getting the feeling like someone was tickling the back of my arm with a feather. It got a little more noticeable, I laughed and said out loud to myself “ohhh I’m a crack head”. I meant I was having those withdrawal symptoms I had heard about that drug addicts have. I let it go for a about 10 minutes and it started to feel GROSS! Thank god I still had some pills. I took my normal dose of 2 pills. I was back down to 5mg from 2 10mg every few hours. I knew they were starting to work when my nose would get itchy. I have a big nose so it’s a lot of itching. It took 15 or 20 minutes to kick in, during that time the sickness was building quickly. For the next few days I would wait till I couldn’t take the sickness anymore and chew the pills. It was disgusting but it worked quicker. I would try one pill, if that didn’t work I would take half and another half if I had to.  In about a week. I remember I went from taking one to a half then none. During that weaning period I started feeling anxious and very depressed. It was coming on and I couldn’t stop it.  I didn’t leave the house much during that time. I would go to our shop a little here and there but I was not myself at all. I loved going to our shop. It was my playground. After about a month of depressed misery, I went to my second favorite place. Car Parts in hillsborough. It was where a lot of gear heads gathered and I felt comfortable. Two of the managers, Gary and “Uncle John” had become good friends of mine. They were solid friends that I knew I could be open and honest with about being depressed. “Uncle John” gave me a hug and said “we got you buddy!” It felt good to be on my way back to the life I loved!!!!

Prior and post surgery I consumed 500 prescribed Percocets.

I remember counting the bottles after I felt better and couldn’t believe what had happened.

***Once in a while I would run out of pills but I had two doctors writing scripts so I just went to a different pharmacy. No big deal.

Fast forward 15 years… with a lot of “life events happening during those years.

…I was in my playground, Barnegat Inlet.

Unfortunately but fortunately the waves were only about 4’. Big enough to jump but smaller than I’d like. I got bored and was on my way back in for the day. I went over a wave backwards and it whipped the ski out from under me. When I got to the ramp I noticed I was having engine trouble so I started to pull the engine. I had a little tightness in my back. I said I would put another engine together during the week and do the swap the next weekend, 4th of July 2015. I went home sunday and when I woke up for work on Monday I had a strange stiff neck that wasn’t going away with aleeve. It got pretty bad pretty quickly. I went to my primary care dr Harprete Bagga of Hillsborough medical associates. She was on vacation so I went to the emergency room. They gave me a shot of something, a script for a few Percocet and Valium with instructions to follow up with my primary care doctorr. I went to Doctor Bagga’s fill in, Dr. Ramasuame, who gave me 30 Percocet and 60 Valium with a script for an X-ray. I had the X-ray done and waited for a call. I was calling and calling for the results. When I finally got a call he told me the X-ray doesn’t show anything. I was in tears, I asked. “What do I do!? I haven’t slept in five days!!!” He said you need an MRI. I said ok do it. I had very good insurance I knew they would cover it. He said wait for your dr to come back. I went to Doctor Bagga as soon as she was back from vacation. She said nothing was wrong. I went to her multiple times, one time she told me I need a girlfriend to relieve the stress. I was dumbfounded. I begged for an MRI. She sent me to physical therapy, the therapist said there is something seriously wrong with your neck and you need an MRI now!

I called her with this information and she said it was too hard for her to do. I said send me to someone that can. She gave me a script for more Valium. I was taking every pill I had, looking for a bit of relief. She filled out the script wrong so I had to call her late Friday. She called me back on Saturday and said she fixed it but she wasn’t giving me any more pain pills. I said I don’t want any painkillers I want an MRI. She chuckled and said if it hurts that bad go to the emergency room.  At this point I had not slept in 20 days and was in more pain than I can even imagine. I had been keeping my left ear as close to my shoulder as possible with my left arm straight up, My left arm had atrophied, I could no longer move my hand or eat meatballs. I’m Italian. That’s a pretty good indication something is WRONG.

Remembering the pain makes me sweat and my stomach turn. 

****During those 20 days, a lot happened. I made a disaster of my life. Thanks to the people around me it didn’t get too bad. Besides my kitchen, that looked like my mind felt. I was awake 20 days. I thought I was being productive and creative but I was not. I was a tornado of chaos. I was not making sense to the people around me. I couldn’t focus to ship orders. My good friend and customer Tom Perry was calling me Vicodin Vinnie. One night I was on the phone with my friend Doug LaGrua, he was checking to see how I was feeling while on his way to Lowe’s. I said I’m awake, I’ll meet you there. As I walked in he happened to be in view of the entrance but about 50 feet away. Once I got to him he asked what are you on. I said Percocet and Valium. He said I could tell from 50 feet that you were out of your mind, I said really, I feel fine. Meanwhile I could barely feel my arm and my head was 90 degrees from normal. He told me, I’ll finish up here and drive you home. I don’t remember much else of that night. On another occasion I remember taking the pills and talking to a couple friends that were checking on me. Weeks later my sister was talking about hibachi with my nephew. I said I wanted to go.  She said you did go and your friend Brad came too. He drove you. I couldn’t even piece the night together as if I was drunk.  I had no recollection.  At least that time I was smart enough to give up my keys before I drove.

I called my best friend Sunny and told him that my Dr. said go to the emergency room. I was afraid they weren’t going to believe me either but he convinced me I had nothing to lose. At this point I had been on a  Percocet and Benzo combination for 20 days. I had been dangling from my arm in hopes to relieve some of the pain. I could no longer move my hand at all. I hadn’t eaten. I lost 30 lbs. I guess it was time to get a second opinion…

I put on my super Mario pajamas and called my mother for a ride. She took me to RWJ In Somerville. They brought me in and started on a dilaudid drip very quickly. Every 6 minutes I could hit the button. The drip barely changed the pain level. I was getting Percocet and an occasional injection of something to keep me from crying. I watched how the nurse turn up the drip so I was doing that every once in a while. They had me at 20 I would bring it up to 60 when they weren’t looking and that would occasionally ease the pain. I turned it up to 80 once but I  felt like i was loosing consciousness.  I stuck with 60 as my max.

I was scheduled for an emergency MRI and as soon as the team could get there I was in a tube. They had to give me another injection so I could hold still long enough to do the test.

I woke up to an angel named Kevin McCracken. Not only was he there to help me and an incredibly caring and genuine person, not to mention he was a good look’n guy. That’s pretty much the first thing I said to him. 

He laughed and promised to take good care of me.

What he told me was that I had shattered the cartilage from two discs and it was crushing my spinal cord. He got approval from the insurance company and I was scheduled for surgery.

Blur forward, I woke up after surgery looking at my angel, he asked can you move your arm. I put both hands up and tried to say holy crap I can move. He performed a two level fusion putting a plate and screws on the front of my spine. The surgery took much longer than anticipated so my vocal cords stretched and I sounded like batman. With a very sad look in his eyes, he apologized and said your voice should comeback but it might take 2 to 6 months. I was happy to be mobile and finally have some relief from the pain. I could deal with the voice and it gave my friends a little peace and quiet. When asked my pain level before I was trying to say 20 but the opiate smiley face scale only goes from 1 to 10. If I was at a 10 prior to surgery I was at a 6 after. I was still in an incredible amount of pain but it was tolerable.

As my mother and Dr.Mccracken stood at the foot of my hospital bed I looked them in their eyes and said, “I’m going to need my therapist and a lot of weed when I get out of here.” They both said we don’t want you to do anything stupid on weed. I said you’ve obviously never tried it. You do stupid stuff when you drink, You don’t do stupid stuff on weed, your too scared to do anything dumb.

With that, I was given a half dozen prescriptions and sent home. I took one Dilaudid pill the first night out of the hospital and that was only because my mother begged me to.

From that day I went back to my house to begin recovering. I went cold turkey and it was excruciating. I wanted the toxins out of my system as quickly as possible.  I knew there was a depression to follow and I wanted to get on with it. I felt weak and helpless but I was going to battle this with every ounce of strength I had left.

I was sick and had the shakes for about a month. I still couldn’t sleep. I would get an hour here and there. Just enough for my body to keep going till I passed out again. It was horrible. The thoughts in my head were irrational. Anxiety was building. I was worried about being able to work, losing my house, losing my business, losing my friends, …I was most scared of losing my mind.  When I first got hurt, the first 5 days without sleep and while taking the opiate benzo combination something clicked in my mind.  I became very paranoid. I imagined someone was hurting me for something I had done.  After that point it was like my wall or barrier from bad thoughts had crumbled and whatever I imagined was reality. Every little thing felt catastrophic, and the bigger things were almost unbearable.

I met a girl while recovering, Her name was Janine.  I really liked her and she said she really liked me but I was not in a good place.  I was living in a state of constant anxiety.  I told her this was not good but it didn’t end quick enough. I let myself have feelings for her although I knew it wasn’t right.  I had a good friend that had been in rehab when I was 18, she was a little older, I went to visit when she came home, she was washing her car, in the conversation she said that she wasn’t supposed to date anyone for six months to a year after rehab. I didn’t really understand till I was in the same mental state as someone in recovery.

I have always gauged my sleep by my dreams, the longer and more vivid my dream the better I slept.  One night, about 3 months out of surgery I had a short dream about a girl, I had given her something that I found when I was 10. I felt Like I knew her forever but that was the beginning of a life long friendship. I thought it was Janine, I wanted it to be, even though the image in my dream was clearly not her.  I felt like I needed someone in my life. I felt codependent. Everything felt wrong. 

Janine was a blessing in disguise, she helped me find something inside me that I wasn’t sure was still there.  She helped me find the combination to my heart.  Although when I looked inside, it wasn’t her that I found.

For the next 6 months, My mind slowly slipped away. The girl I thought was my J was walking out of my life because I couldn’t get my shit together.  It sent me spiraling into a depression that I thought I would be stuck in forever.

(That was the only dream I had for over a year. The next dream I had was about the same girl but this time she was devastated.  She had lost her best friend. All I could do was hug her soul.)

I had been begging my surgeon to write a letter of recommendation to a Medical marijuana Dr I had located in hopes of getting a Medical marijuana card.  Neither the MMJ Dr or my surgeon felt comfortable giving me a prescription under the NJ guidelines.  Pain was not an acceptable reason to give someone this medication.

Around Christmas I gave in and saw a pain management Dr.  The first pill he gave me was neurontin, this one quickly brought on thoughts of suicide.  I was on a slippery slope and wasn’t looking for any help in that department. The second was lyrica and the third was eleevil, these are all nerve pain medications.  I thought I found relief in the Elevil because I got a little sleep and it is also used as an antidepressant.  I felt decent for about a week till one day I was driving to work and I started crying.  I had been fighting back tears for months but I could no longer hold back.  I stopped taking elevil after 2 weeks but this triggered a tidal wave of emotions for the next year and a half.  It was like riding a sign wave, a sign wave is a way of visualizing and electric current, it looks like a bell curve but it dips equally negative. A sign wave can be erratic when it receives the wrong signals. Much like my brain. I would have a really good day but I was sure to have an equally as bad day the next. The swing from good to bad would increase to the point I almost couldn’t take it.  It was like driving down the road with no steering wheel. I was in therapy every other week sometimes every week.  I had to understand where all these emotions were coming from.  I began having anxiety that felt strangely familiar to my childhood.  The feelings and thought became more irrational and erratic the less I slept.  About 10 months after my surgery and no luck getting a MMJ card, My good friend Dave texted me a phone number that another friend said to forward to me.  It was a Dr that had closed his practice as a gynecologist and began reviewing patients for the NJ Medical Marijuana Program.  I made an appointment as quickly as possible and within about 45 days I had my card.  I went to Breakwater in Cranberry New Jersey where I was given a tutorial on Marijuana and they recommended a strain to help me sleep. It was called Bubble Gum 5.

BG5 is an Indica strain. I knew there were 4 main types. India (night time), Sativa (day time), Hybrids (a combination of the best properties indies and sativas) and High CBD strains (this is is a very effecting anti inflammatory/musce relaxer). I had done some prior research because I have always felt that there were positive properties to marijuana.  I liked the science behind it but wasn’t willing to break the law as an adult.

Flash Back:

Like many people I tried it in my mid teens.  I only did so after being laughed at by my friends that were 10 to 50 years older. I had asked them If I could die from MJ. I can still remember the conversations I had. They all said the same thing. Stick with weed and you’ll be ok.  I tried it a few times but found that it was inconsistent so I stopped after a handful of times.  But it always baffled me how some could be so good and some could be so bad. When the good was good, I felt relief from the mental pain I was feeling.  Nevertheless, It was illegal and inconsistent so I stayed away.

When I was about 16 I started to feel strange.  I didn’t know what it was but I didn’t feel well.  I started drinking a little and I got some relief from this feeling but I couldn’t get a handle on it so I stopped drinking but the feeling wouldn’t go away.  I would call it good days and bad.  I could tell when I opened my eyes in the morning if I was going to have a good day or bad.

The bad days were far outnumbering the good till one day after my workout I started punching my punching bag.  I couldn’t stop. My hands were bloody, my father gently put his hand on my shoulder and asked “are you ok”.  I cried and said “No”.  He took me to a psychiatrist who prescribed prozac.  It was a god sent.  I started feeling a little better.  Stresses didn’t feel as heavy and my days became brighter.  There was still something there but I was able to let it go for the most part. I had always struggled to find happiness but never knew why it was such a struggle. ( See When My Bully Doesn’t Sleep)

*****Fast Forward to not sleeping

When After I broke my neck I wasn’t sleeping and these feelings kept coming back in bits and pieces. Sometimes large bits and large pieces.  I would get a vision from the past that I could see as the first trigger of that feeling.  I’m talking about feelings of anxiety and insecurities.

From around age 5 we got new neighbors to our picturesque neighborhood in hillsborough NJ.  It was the last house to be built for a long time and it was right across the street.  There were two boys a couple years older than me and an older sister.  Their mother with a big red ball of hair.  From the outside they looked like what everyone wanted, wealth, cars… but there was a dark undertone to the family.  I think the first time I got beat up for no reason was around age 6. I thought the boys were my friends so I couldn’t understand why they tossed me around and treated me that way. From then on the torture was constant, I did my best to be their friend and keep the attention away from my sister and brothers but being their friend only meant my house didn’t get egged as often. I couldn’t tell on them even though I would watch it happen.  They taught me to steal and be sneaky. It didn’t feel right but they called me whenever they needed their bikes or remote control cars fixed so I thought they were my friends.

When I was about 7, I had a wallet and saved up $60.  The only person I told where I hid it was the older of the two boys.  It was stashed under my bed between the frame rails.  I never saw it again.  I looked later that night and for weeks after.  I would stay up late wondering how I lost it. I worried how disappointed my father would be for being careless.  I lost sleep and was having horrible dreams. As a child I didn’t realize the importance of sleep. When I was 18 the younger of the two stole my stereo and speakers and tried to sell them to a mutual friend. It wasn’t till years later that it clicked.  These people weren’t my friends, they were evil people that set my life of insecurity and anxiety into motion.


During the two years I wasn’t sleeping I stopped taking Prozac cold turkey after more than 20 years on it. I felt ok. After about 4 weeks I started to feel violently sick. My brain started buzzing I was sweating and freezing. I had 4 pairs of sweat pants on and 4 sweatshirts. I was trying not to use marijuana at the time because my mind was so cloudy from not sleeping I wanted to start with a clean slate. I gave in and took one hit. I used about as much as you could fit on your pinkie nail. Almost instantly the shakes subsided, my brain stopped buzzing and my inside didn’t feel like they wanted to be outside anymore. I didn’t feel great but I felt ok.


Almost a year after I had a dream about the girl I wanted to be friends with, I had a dream about the same girl. I could see her so clearly but I couldn’t see her face. This time she was devastated. She was crying and there was nothing I could do but hug her. I begged to know who it was. I wanted to help her but felt helpless. I set out to help everyone I could. A few months later I was chatting with one of my very close friends. His name is Joe. I had known him for years from Car Parts, the place I went to recover after my first opiate detox. But we had more recently become much closer. We connected as “adults”. (I’ll never grow up…) . Joe and I talked for about an hour. Joe and I spoke about everything, life, love, hotrods, jetskis and happiness. He told me about some new and lingering pain he was having. He had broken his neck years ago after diving into a sandbar that had unknowingly formed. He had made that dive every year he went to the beach but that time it was different. Luckily his aunt was there to  keep him from drowning.

More recently he was having severe mouth Pain. He had surgery after surgery and was in agony. He couldn’t eat or sleep. I felt his pain. I told him I had gotten my medical Marijuana card and how incredibly helpful it was. He was excited to try it. I sent him the information one year to the day that I was asked to speak at the New Jersey State Assembly about My Experience with Marijuana.  I checked in once in a while but between my struggles I hadn’t gotten to see him in a while. A few months after that I got an injection in my shoulder that finally gave me relief. After two years there was some light at the end of the tunnel. I was able to see a life without pain. I started getting some real sleep. I was able to throw out all the sleeping contraptions I made. I was able to think a little more clearly and smile a little more easily. My energy level was up and my days were becoming more enjoyable.  I hadn’t seen my Pal in two years. I know it was two years because I had lunch with him a few days after my neck surgery. Although the original CarParts store was gone; there was one left. He owned it with his father. I brought Sonic and we chatted for hours.

Almost two years to the day I was feeling better and I was on my way to see him. I had gotten him a shirt from the jetski world finals in Arizona. It was the last one on the rack. I couldn’t wait to give it to him. The week I was going to see him, I got to see the girl from my dreams instead. It was his sister Julie. We stood in a room full of Joe’s closest friends and hugged. Unfortunately my dream came true. She was devastated, her brother had overdosed and passed away. I never got to give him his shirt. I had no idea how bad he was struggling but I knew the pain he went through.

I blamed myself for not being there, for not being strong enough to help him, for not pushing him to get his card.

I know how desperate he felt. The feelings you get when coming off opiates is indescribable to someone that hasn’t experienced it but every person that has, completely understands.

Had It been easier and less stigmatic for Joe to get his medical Marijuana card I honestly believe things would have been different. Had he had something to ease his mental and physical pain without the possibility of death, something to take the edge off without the fear of persecution or prosecution, I firmly believe Joe would be standing beside me telling his story as well.

A mother lost a son, a father lost his fishing buddy, a wife lost her husband, his two children lost their protector and roll model, his sister lost her best friend. So many people lost more than a friend that day, we all lost a part of our future. Joe was one of those people that always knew what to say to cheer you up and keep you grounded. He had your back no matter what.

Joe was 40 years old and just became a statistic.

I firmly believe that weed saved my life and kept me off that list.



Marijuana is easily regulated by the person using it. When you feel bad you use more, when you feel better you naturally use less. When you are craving it and feel that you need it there is a reason. You are in some kind of pain. Physically or mentally. Now that I am off Prozac I noticed feeling slightly depressed as the winter of 2017/18 approached. The cold was causing muscle spasms and the loss of my father was causing some heartache. I let myself use marijuana whenever I feel the need. Sometimes it’s 5 or more times a day. I stopped judging myself and let it work. As the winter of 2018 is nearing the end, I found myself using much less. I actually stopped using it daily on February 14th. I wanted to take a little break and see how I felt. I’ve used about 5 times since then to help me sleep but have not felt any withdrawal or had a craving for it. I spent two years and a lot of money on therapy to find my happiness. I used marijuana as a safety net. Now that I sleep, I no longer feel

Like I’m walking on a not so tight, tight rope. I feel like I’m standing in solid ground with a bright future ahead of me. I feel that I can use marijuana as pain relief but I no longer feel that I need that mental safety net. I feel that marijuana gave me the tools and insight to get me through my darkest hours. It let me find what was tormenting me my entire life and helped me understand myself and my feelings. I feel that marijuana gave me what I needed when I needed it in order to be able to let go and enjoy the days to come. I have been off Prozac for almost a year.


I have always tried to live as honestly and righteously as possible.  The worst thing I do is get a little heavy on the gas pedal when I’m behind some horsepower.

I never wanted to be considered a “pot head” so on occasion I would stop using Medical Marijuana.  My friends would usually ask, have you been taking your medicine, I would say no and they would tell me they could tell I wasn’t sleeping again.

I almost considered just taking the painkillers because it was easier to get and the Doctors didn’t frown upon it.

It was a very confusing time for me. At that point I made a fire in my wood stove and burned every pill in my house. I attempted to overdose on Marijuana.  I figured if it was my time, I would be the first case of a marijuana overdose.  I smoked as much as I could but all it did was ease my mind.

In order to help myself get over the negative stigma I spoke openly and genuinely to people about marijuana so no one thought I was hiding it from them.

My life often takes me on an adventure that I try to make the best of by following my heart. I had the opportunity to spend a day with about a dozen secret service agents and numerous members of all branches of the armed forces. I had nothing to lose so I spoke openly with all of them about marijuana. They all had the same response, “we have much bigger things to worry about than weed.” When I revealed that I had my medical marijuana card i was commended for taking the steps to keep myself off painkillers. And more than one of these devoted, trusted, soldiers said that they wished it was legal so they didn’t have to take painkillers.

Science and Cannabis

One of the best things to happen to Cannabis is professional grow operations.  There is a proper process that needs to be followed or you will get adverse affects. Such as paranoia or sick feeling. That mostly has to do with the drying process. If you get mold in it you will get sick. Understanding the science of cannabis is very interesting. It goes way deeper than a funny smelling plant. There are more than 500 different strains of cannabis. I believe that’s a very low estimate. I love science find it very fascinating that two very similar plants can have the complete opposite effect. There are Indica strains that will calm you down and help you sleep and there are sativa strains that will wake you up and keep you alert like a shot of espresso. I find science especially intriguing when Everyone says something that I, and even the people saying it know to be false.

Going by the answers I’ve received by informally polling hundreds of people over the past 2.5 years, my guess is that at least 50% of americans have tried cannabis at least once in some form, be it smoking, edibles or oils.

I have a few questions.

How many of you felt you needed to do it again? How many of you felt sick when you stopped doing it? How many of you felt the urge to steal in order to get some Marijuana?  How many people thought it would be a great idea to go for a drive after smoking?  How many of you would do it again if it was legal? How many of you are now addicted?

I think your answer would be different if I asked about opiates.

Asking for help is not a weakness, It is the strength to be vulnerable.