Everyone who loves roller coasters loves controlled chaos. They may not know it, but that’s the truth. We love knowing that we’re mostly safe, but it still feels scary.
I grew up in a chaotic environment. When my mom was around things were peaceful and I was safe, but when she was gone, the shadow men as I called them, Keith Rainier and his followers, would break into my room at night and cause all kinds of damage. This is a case of uncontrolled chaos.
I like controlled chaos, but I don’t trust the people who work on roller coasters. I don’t trust they know what they are doing, and I don’t trust they care about the safety of their customers and there is nothing they can do about it.
I have trust issues.
I have trust issues because men I loved, men I cared about, men I protected, hurt me so badly I almost died, and I can’t sweep that under the rug. I can’t forget, and I am constantly reminded of what was done to me.
I struggle with my interpersonal relationships, and I struggle with being alone, because of what was done to me.
I am speaking very plainly because I want you to pay attention to the language I am using. I am deliberately using words that erase any fault from my shoulders because I no longer believe I deserved to be raped.
For years I was convinced it was my fault, that I was being punished by the universe, by the Gods, for existing as a Brown girl.l I told myself all kinds of stories about how the Gods were angry at me, but when I found time to really sit down and think about all the shit I’ve done, I started to realize much of my former behavioral needs came from a place of trauma.
Now I know better. I understand that when my anxiety is too high I need to smoke a joint, I need to focus on keeping my anxiety down because when my anxiety is high it presents itself in my anger issues.
I get a big endorphin release when I start to pull back from my over-the-top emotions, it makes me happy when I can prevent a panic attack before one even begins, but that’s rare that this happens.
Often once I feel activated, it’s difficult to pull me back until I settle myself down and smoke a joint. The cannabis helps, but I honestly think sitting by myself and doing the ritual of smoking the joint also helps.
Knowing cannabis helps, helps me, but it’s frustrating to know that I have found something that takes the edge off of my anxiety, but that it’s not something I can always afford.
So there are good days, and there are bad days. On the good days, I am able to clean, I get some writing done, and I spend some time outside smoking because I am not allowed to smoke inside.
On bad days all I do is switch from sobriety and stonerhood, by getting stoned all day and microdosing with coffee.
Every day is different, but I am trying y’all I promise. I am waiting to hear about my new medical team and trying not to get anxious about what they will say or who they will be because I won’t know until my file is transferred to this new city.
There’s much to be happy about, so much that I am overwhelmed with all these new options, but I am also excited about my future for the first time in a while.
If you or someone you know needs help please reach out, if I can’t find you services or phone numbers, I will find someone who can.
Sending all my love,
Devon J Hall
There are several ways to help support this site; if you’re interested, it’s much appreciated. Supporting this website means supporting a disabled mixed-race Black non-binary/she person. Thank you so much for your efforts. It means the world to me and convinces me to keep going.
If you’d like to read more of Devon’s work, check them out in the following publications.
Loud Mouth Brown Girl 
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