Confessions to the Matriarch

To my dearly sweet, intuitive, assertive, and fervent mother,

I guess now is as good of a time as any to confess what you might already know, what with all your passive aggressive comments regarding the subject. Yes, I smoke weed! Every day in fact. I smoke the green kush that buds off of the cannabis plant, who’s infamous tall green leaves are defoliated to get its fruits to become even juicier than how you remember in the olden days (the irony of marketing). I habitually smoke three blunts a day minimum on days I'm most financially comfortable, and when my funds run low I typically rip from my bong while eating edibles throughout the day to avoid losing potency. My favorite activity in a day is smoking a blunt either the minute I wake up (what we call a wake n’ bake) in the morning before yoga or just after I get home from a colossal day. I have dreams of smoking fat blunts from the porch of my own home.

But you already knew that didn't you? You knew I'd be interested in it since my sister started smoking it at 16, in fact I remember the days you'd sniff really hard when coming in for a hug hello every time I came home from a friend's house just to try to get a whiff of the possible cannabis I was partaking in during my sleepovers once I reached the age she started at, except I wasn't smoking at that age. In fact, I was such a sober kid that I literally once told a stranger in my high school football field that I was high on life from across the field when they asked me if I was high at all when they saw me skipping my way to band practice. I was skipping because I was excited that I aced a difficult math test (not my strongest subject). Taking in those needed whiffs may have eased your anxieties, but in doing so I felt not only the need to please you in not becoming like the daughter before me, but also hurt and unworthy for not receiving the trust that is required for a healthy relationship dynamic. I was treated guilty before proving my innocence when as children we were raised being told to do the opposite. It seems over time the habit of treating others as guilty before innocent was the lesson I learned to project the most, and it seems like many others outside my family learned the same lesson.

It was later during my film internship in Los Angeles were you comfortable enough to smoke a bit of the herb yourself only after finding out that the Airbnb I was going to stay at for a few months for said internship was a safe enough location for your daughter. After all, it wasn't cannabis you said you were against, just the desire for the safety of your children as they explore the world. In this case, not only were we in a legal environment, but we also found ourselves in a gorgeous home with an amazing host complete with an outside kitchen and living room. The outside living room was complete with a fountain with a buddha on top, plants covering where guests didn’t really walk around. This experience helped solidify my hope that logical serene lifestyles are in fact possible in a country as stressed out as this one.

When I was younger, the rhetoric was justifyingly different, for the development of a child’s brain is fragile, and any substance, whether it be weed, alcohol or tobacco can be detrimental to that growth. This, I agreed fervently with and listened to carefully, for this rhetoric would be my primary reason for why I chose to strictly avoid any substance until I turned 18. Logos, scientific logic especially, would always get me to follow a rule.

My sister however, responded to her environment differently, as all children do. Despite your explanations, she still chose to drink and smoke underaged due to the pressure of her peers, whether she’s willing to admit it or not. As her younger sister, I saw how the opinions of others affected her in a way I had hoped it wouldn’t. It seems the same people pleasing characteristic developed in both of us, but while mine was directed to my family, hers trailed off elsewhere. This of course only added to the arguments in our home. In my eyes, I saw you fight off what seemed to be the inevitable US high school culture bull shit I wanted to avoid since watching my first tv show in this country. As for my sister, it seemed my indifferent reaction to her confessing her vices to me instilled a trust I was unaware I didn’t have at the time, but I understood the weight of the trust she gave and was more than ready to take it on. And to answer your question as to when this confession of a conversation occurred, it was at our dinner table at home. I don’t remember what exactly you were doing while dad was at work, I just remember it being an emergency and us being old enough to not be stupid for a quick leave. Don’t be angry, I was just committing to what sisters are supposed to do, which is to provide a safe space for your sibling, free of judgment/rejection from friends and parents both.

Maybe it was my mistake to project such ideals from the cartoons I watched at the time, but to me, having a sister meant that I hit the jackpot for having a best friend assigned to me at birth. My view wasn’t necessarily “blood is thicker than water,” but being that we’re lucky enough to have to share similar memories by living in the same household with someone for 18 years, I think it's only logical to make the best of it by having that person be your best friend. After all, who else can know you like a sibling, who gets to grow with you and witness all your awkward stages that is childhood and puberty. Who else will be there to understand why your parents aren’t being understanding while ALSO understanding why exactly Alicia is a two faced bitch without getting judged for that drama by your parents? I feel like this shared experience factor is why adoptive families are in fact still families and why those who don’t share the same blood type still find the same kinship as siblings of the same blood. Nature versus nurture, it seems people often forget one or the other, never understanding that both coexist. I don’t think my sister ever had the same values and beliefs on sisterhood as I did because several occasions when growing up prove this to be the case, and to this day I find it hard believing other people’s beliefs and words without witnessing actions that reflect said beliefs because of her. I have you to thank for that, and writing that isn’t meant to come off sarcastic, rather earnest.

Even after coming to terms with understanding that your daughters simply chose different lifestyles, I still receive passive aggressive hints of your disapproval of me smoking cannabis, even after moving to a state where cannabis is fully legalized while finding myself employment within the cannabis industry. This is bewildering to me to say the least because unlike my sister, I've lived a relatively sober lifestyle throughout much of my life. I waited until I was the legal drinking age in most countries to even try any new substances including alcohol and when I tried cannabis, the migraines I’ve grown up to started to disappear and my menstrual cycle experiences would become less painful. While I didn't exactly follow every rule, I still followed them more accordingly than most US born citizens in my high school. Authority didn’t have my respect, logic did, and logically speaking I’m not exactly going to quit consuming the herb that relieves my menstrual pain.

I know it can be concerning, worrying over your daughter's safety as she navigates living in a big city and wondering whether or not she's falling into the wrong influences. My sister didn't make it easy for you, so I understand your desire to be jaded. However, it's still necessary to understand that she and I are two separate beings with different values (albeit similar values because of the connection you give us, nonetheless still different) and we express that in completely different ways. And to be completely frank, SHE needs to understand that as well, but that’s a different letter for another day. To be confident in my pursuit for life experience, you need to let go of the fact that you are not and cannot be in control of my life nor decisions in them any longer.

The worst part about all of this petty drama is that this isn't even my biggest secret. The real secret I know you don't know (but probably wondered about) is me having also tried psilocybin cubensis, otherwise known as psychedelic mushrooms, the fungi used for both spiritual and medicinal benefits amongst many communities, particularly indigenous in the Americas. It's the only other nonconventional medicine that I've tried, and needless to say it changed my life for the better.

Before you get more exasperated, know that I chose this without peer pressure, and that I did my own research on each substance prior to deciding to consume it. I learned about the chemical compounds that create the hallucinative symptoms warned by many and how they affect the prefrontal cortex of the brain. I also studied the history of the fungi and found out that in other parts of the world, including where we’re from, people incorporate the fungi and other hallucinogenic substances into rituals, not just shamanic rituals but nonetheless an example. Would you believe me if I told you that some scientists believe it might be a source as to how the human brain evolved so fast?

I'm not asking you to believe immediately in these theories, but rather to understand that we shouldn't respond to the unknown (especially of this planet) with fear, especially when it has a potential to help many lives. After all, in this specific case we’re blessed enough to be at a point where we already know that it’s edible, thanks to the ancestors who took the risk to find out. If one approaches this subject with a calm and open mind, one will be able to learn new perspectives without immediately harsh judgment. I think a problem with living in a bible belt lifestyle is that the community treats a lot of nuanced, complex matters as black and white, which does not reflect the environment we live in, or at least want to live in depending on how you interpret that clause.

Truth is, I sometimes wonder if you remember the conversations we’d have when I was younger. Those nights when you would ask me how I was feeling because you were checking in on my emotional health right before bed time. When you would ask, I would respond by explaining that I was ok for now. I was trying to remain grateful for the pleasures and privileges I had in life and wanted desperately to stay happy for a household that didn’t seem or feel happy. That way, a light could be brought into those I saw as sad. Why add more problems to a household already dealing with so much? I also didn’t want to avoid feeling dull due to the monotonous lifestyle I felt we all had sometimes, not just our families but the entire state (dare I say country), because the truth is, I wasn’t happy either. I often found myself not feeling much of anything at points, which scared me. It was hard for me to explain at the time, but it felt like I was trying to force myself to be happy because I was afraid of feeling empty, even though it was a feeling that would rise up in me and stay for prolonged periods of time. I didn't realize I was describing depression at the time, and after all the experiences I've gained witnessing others diagnosed with depression, I'm much more inclined to thank you than to resent you for keeping me from getting over diagnosed as a kid. Prozac proves to be horrible for kids and I find it odd how easily I can get prescribed mood stabilizers like Celexa when I'm on my period, a natural hormonal experience combated with patriarchal control through chemicals approved by someone other than yourself. Don’t get me wrong, trusting a doctor is of utmost importance, but if anyone studies even an inch of medical history, they’d understand that the relationship with a doctor and client in a country like this is a lot more nuanced than blindly trusting a prescription that affects the brain. This process may work for some people, but it doesn't for me. I truly believe that a menstrual cycle like mine does not need prescription drugs to care for my symptoms, especially when all of them can be cared for through holistic medicine (herbs and tinctures). With all this said, vaccinate your kids (Yes I know you vaccinated us, but it's a needed to be said statement in an analysis like this)!!

I chose for my first experience to be in the comfort of my own dorm, where I could step out for a hike to the beach if I felt partial for an adventure. That way if there were an emergency, a safe environment would already be provided. The decision proved to be a smart one because it's now in my firm opinion that mushrooms should be experienced outside. Even then, my dorm room was probably the comfiest living space on campus with the mini fridge from my sister’s college experience, extra comfort to fight the nuisance of low mattress campus quality, and the cheapest flat screen TV to ever show up in my dad’s view at a Good Will.

The experience was incomparable to any prescription given by a big Pharma doctor. It took a couple of hours before the mushrooms could settle in my stomach, but once they did my brain transcended into a plethora of gorgeous visuals artists expressed through their artwork when inspired by the fungi all throughout the night. With the proper precautions I took after educating myself about the fungi and its process, I’ve successfully avoided ever having what is known as “a bad trip.”

The bright red flowers on my floral green comforter began dancing like it was in an episode of Chowder from Cartoon Network. When I chose to step outside, I was able to see the Earth breath like back when I did as a child. The earth's tectonic shifts slowly moved in and over each other, while the organic surface grew abundantly above. New colors bounced along the winds' currents like a river in motion. The Carolina campus was lightly drizzling at the time, and each droplet trickling down the leaves of the tall pine trees presented itself as an elixir for the organic. East coast plants glowed below the night sky, life never truly at rest until death. Every colorful symptom reminded me of the fragility in life and the mission I made as a kid to protect the earth. Everything was visually interconnected. The holy children, as Marìa Sabina once described, communicated to me all the positive lessons I learned from watching cartoons as a kid in one trip. It was along my path when I ran into other species of mushrooms growing wildly in the humidity as I was reminded of the inevitable truth every entity on this planet shares in life (death, mushrooms are simply the loving reapers, hence holy children).

I chose not to steer too far from the trails with your voice in mind as the narrator to my inhibitions. Upon going home, I felt it upon myself to practice yoga in the living room of my dorm, windows open to let the cool air in. Every stretch added more love I had for my body that I never thought I could give before. My insecurities dissipated with every brush of wind that caressed my skin. After 45 minutes of practicing mindfulness through movement, a movie was decided to complete the night. Spirited Away was the film of choice that brought me to tears of pure joy, the first movie I had full control in choosing when we still visited Blockbusters. It was an odd moment of meeting full circle, for out of all of the movies that could have been decided on, it was the first film I got to pick to watch on my own as a kid. It was like watching the movie for the first time again, this time with an adult lens that constantly brought me back to the environmental themes of the film. I was truly reminded of the potential of storytelling through animation, the values I developed as a child growing stronger roots than ever before.

I know this sounds like just another wild trip for you, but journey medicine is truly something that I believe should be supported to research and taken on with an open mind. Since the first trip, it would be almost a year before I started to recognize my depressive symptoms again. Did I feel sad at all? Of course, but not in the permanent level of emptiness I and many others felt when I lived without it, which I believe is the distinction between depression and normal sadness. These “symptoms” would often if not always be relieved from my body without any repercussions for the next day, unlike a more commonly socially accepted substance like alcohol. In fact, the only bummed part I ever had during a come down stage was when I’d be reminded about the future difficulty in communication I’d have to face when dealing with those who were too close minded to even accept conversing about the fungi beyond gasps and the illegality factor. I often find it that people who can’t have a conversation beyond that also have difficulty holding a conversation beyond the superficial.

I'd love to have a more open conversation with you regarding this subject, one that accepts the research I've read the same way your resources that denounce psilocybin cubensis would in typical social environments. I know it's an unlikely case, after all it's why I chose to keep this information reserved for myself and not tell you after all these years. It's not the main reason why I moved to a legal state, but it is part of it, and the close minded mentality that’s utilized when approaching all aspects of living is what solidified my decision to leave. This mentality was on all subjects, not just on the plants I choose to ingest.

I hope we can have an understanding conversation on this one day, but until then I simply ask you to look up Paul Stamets and the history of Marìa Sabina and read a bit of their research and livelihood so that you can further understand this letter.

With much love always,

Your youngest daughter