I know the marijuana did not cause the seizure. 75% of all seizures happen with no cause of reason. The anger came from being in a situation that caused it. My being in the hospital has brought enlightenment to the idea of not controlling, or trying to control, what it is I cannot control; the ideas outweighed by a blindness. I smoked for 2 months after having the seizures and smoked a lot more than I did when I got the seizure and did not get a seizure. I don't need to smoke marijuana as I have not had a seizure in over 8 months, but just like anyone else who wants to have a beer or a glass of wine, I want that freedom in which I deserve. And at the same time, if being able to smoke marijuana helps me with my seizures to make sure they don't happen, what a great relief in my life that I can only want and hope for a peaceful walk in this journey I am living. I used to be an alcoholic and had seizures because of over doses. When I quit drinking I didnt want to be so weak that I couldn't control myself to be able to enjoy the distinguished flavors of a beer or wine, so I set out to prove to myself that I could drink only 1 beer or 1 glass of wine from time to time and I have done that. I know with alcohol and wine that there is a limit in which once you cross, you can either pass out, lose consciousness, and destroy your live. My experience with smoking marijuana has been the opposite of that. The only side effect has been dry mouth and a lot of flem. Not once did I lose my consciousness. Not once did I blackout. Not once did I ever feel I was not in control. Being angry at my wife came from her hanging out with her sister and sisters boyfriend, who both threatened my life and made me feel like scum because of me smoking and because of me being with my wife. When I found out she went to hang out with them, I asked her, "If you had to pick a side who would you pick?" I was thinking she was going to chose me of course. No. She said she wouldn't pick a side, even if we were married or not. At which point, I started repeating over to her in wonder and shock "you wouldn't pick a side?" and the whole time she was eating a buritto and watching the tv as Jersey Shore played. When she left, I wanted to be alone, and my mom kept opening my door and staring at me sleep which made me feel so uncomfortable. After weeks of her doing the same thing, and her not listening to my pleads to give me my space and privacy, I blew it and started screaming hoping it would be the way to finally get her to understand me. It led to me writing a letter to her, knowing that it would be the last attempt to get her to understand me before I just went numb and found a way to move out. She read the letter. The next morning, I was scheduled to go to the same DR who prescribed me the Kepra, which my mom told him was the cause of "my anger fits and uncontrolled rage that made me a different person." I woke up early. Lit a joint, smoked it and felt ready to talk to a DR who would be professional. In the living room downstairs of my appartment I found my mom, her girlfriend, my grandma, and my grandpa all sleeping in the couch. I woke them up with a "Good Morning" and lit joint relaxed sitting down at the bottom of the stair case. They paused. Looked at me. My grandma with her mouth open. I said, "Im ready. I can see you guys are not. The appointment is not until another hour, so Ill go to my room and take a nap. Wake me up when you are ready." I never was woken up. I woke up naturally after 3 hours later. I was late to the appointment and frustrated that my family didnt wake me up. Another failed attempt to be able to trust them. For them to see I was doing my part to show them I was not the person they were thinking I was. I didnt want to talk to my mom at that point, I gave up inside. Again, she knocked over and over again, opening the door when I was asking her not to. She kept opening it. And I went from asking politely and sincerely as an adult, as a person, to please give me my space to a person who just exploded and screamed "Leave me alone." I finally blew it and got all my belongings that she had ever given me. I grabbed all my computer gaming systems and throw them in the hallway as those materialist items proved unworthy to my dream of being able to sit down with my mom and have an honest conversation with lies and deception. I dont know why, but I had milk in my hand that I threw into her room and the milk went all over her. I went back into my room and locked myself in. I put my speaker in front of my door hoping it would allow me to have the privacy I wanted without her barging in. Thats when I heard footsteps later that night coming up my stairs. I was expecting the cops to arrive. And I was expecting them to knock on my door and walk outside willingly as I was hoping this would be a chance to finally talk to someone who would listen. But then the door was kicked open and I had lasers pointing at me. The mental hospital brought me to be at peace with what I cannot control. And after living with my mom and with my wife, I could not control their unwillingness to be adaptive to wanting to be present at the moment and learn from it. I humbled myself even more so at the hospital. By the end, I regretted throwing milk at my mom, knowing that the anger had to build to that point. The anger came from a place that Had been building up for all my life. It had nothing to do with the Marijuana and had everything to do with my relationship with my mother and with my father. The marijuana up to that point had brought peace. It was the moment of having my wife betray me and having my mom not being able to give me my space, as she hasnt all my life, that brought the rage. I am not a robot. I have emotions. I know how to deal with them. When your in an environment that brings those emotions in which the average person can walk away from and shrug off, I had to deal with and suppress for so long. Its my fault that I am dependent on my mom so much. Its also my fault that I never saved the child support my father gave me. But since I didnt, I had to deal with the journey at the moment that I was born to live. At which, I have learned from. And at which point, living with my mom and being the same experience, I am tired. And instead of getting angry and trying to help my mom with her issues, I have learned to stay quiet and zone out. And with my wife, being the exact same way, I have learned to be mute and zone out. I am living a very quiet life. Slowly starting to realize the creative personality I have lost and am learning to find every day with snippets of mementos that remind me of my creative thinking that made me happy. The happiness has only come through zoning out all the things that bothered me, the things I always saw I could help fix to live a progressive revolutionized life with others that could change and learned to ignore them and be happy with myself. My experiences now have led me to this thought: live in quiet contemplation with my wife and admire the discontent disconnection that her and I share, or hope that she will divorce me and live with my mom in a "yes mom. No mom" environment until I am able to graduate from college and pursue my career as a Theater Teacher. My wife, after numerous arguments, has not wanted to divorce me. She wont see the picture. Her and I argue and I am the stronger one to say that her and I are just not made for each other. Its been over 10 times that shes persisted she will change to make our relationship work, and we end up with the same outcome; quiet and disconnected. I don't want to her feel she needs to change for me, I want her to be happy. It hurts because I feel like a failure once again, having failed to chose the right person to be with me and be compatible with my personality and goals. She wont divorce me and at this point I feel trapped and stuck. With my mom I feel I need to get my shit together and stay in school and get my degree so I can focus on myself and take care of myself and not have to worry about anyone else. I just know that marijuana was not the cause of all of this nor is it the cure. Marijuana is the pen and my mind is the paper to the poetry that I exist with.
