Herstory

Marijuana Makes Me Happy

It is astounding what a difference a few puffs off of a joint does for my mood. This morning in particular I wasn’t feeling that great because meditation was like trauma therapy last night.

I am holding inside of me a lot of anger about what happened to me. I am holding in a lot of rage, and it’s directed at the people who knew what happened and said and did nothing to stop it. The adults in our circle who remained silent while children were being forced to rape each other.

I don’t think I’ll ever get over the fact that grown ass men put us through that, and as much as I know it was “us”, I just keep focusing on the fact that I don’t have anyone to talk to about it all.

I started a new book recently, it’s called “I’m Still Talking,” and I am being a lot more intentional about what I write in this book then I was when I wrote Uncomfortable. With this one I am taking my time instead of rushing. I still have a fear that I’ll be murdered before I get to finish telling all the stories that I want to tell, but marijuana is actually helping with my paranoia.

I can’t explain it, but when I first started smoking pot I was very paranoid, now however a sense of calm has come over me, and I can focus my thoughts on being productive instead of worrying about what might happen.

I still worry that there are people who are angry at me for speaking out, and then I am reminded that I am angry that they didn’t say anything at all. It’s a frustrating cycle, but the more that I write the more that I am releasing those fears and anxieties into the air, instead of holding onto them.

Marijuana is a detox agent, it’s designed to rid your body, mind, and soul, of the things that are no longer serving your higher purpose. It’s designed to heal, and while it does a really good job, I also notice that I am forced to deal with the facts that I am still hurting.

I keep thinking there is going to be this majickal day when I am just “over” what happened, when I can look back on my life and not see rape and torture, and it’s just not happening.

I have moments where I look at my life in the moment and I am genuinely happy to be where I am. Yesterday was not one of those moments. I was like….angry. I remember trying to meditate and I went to such a dark place that I woke up today all growley and angry, because I was just fucking angry.

Sometimes it’s because I need to release what I am holding onto, and other times it’s purely because I can’t do anything about what happened. I’ve done everything I could to make sure that the men who hurt me, and us, are punished, but it doesn’t feel like it is enough when the world keeps telling me that it didn’t happen.

All this to say that I am tired, and I might not be posting as much as I have been this year. It’s not that I need to take a break, it’s that I need to focus on “I’m still Talking.”

I hope to be done with it in time for Christmas, but I figure if I spend the next two months focusing on just the book, I should be able to get it out there in time to be bought as a Christmas present for those who need to hear the sound of my own voice.

I hope you’re doing well, I love you.

Devon J Hall

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