Can Pot Help Depression?

Dear members of Grasscity,

I've been a victim of anxiety and depression for as long as I can remember.

The first time my behavior/mood/etc. was addressed was in the 4th grade when my parents scheduled an I.Q. test to evaluate what might be happening in my head. The test results noted that my IQ was higher than average, but that I also suffered from an anxiety disorder.

By the 6th grade, I was on a daily dose of Zoloft, but still dealing with my now-diagnosed anxiety disorder. For years I hadn't had much friends, and found myself at home alone more than I was outside (mostly playing video games or reading as far as I can remember) and this trend still existed now that I was in Middle School.

I remember the one day in 6th grade that changed me forever - I had my first encounter with severe depression brought on by my anxiety. It was gym class, and what had been usual for me, I generally sat alone while other students played sports. I had never felt motivated because not many peers had ever asked me to play with them other than a few times.

I had began to see a guidance councillor at the school who I could talk to, and she was one of the few individuals in my life who seemed to listen and to care. This one day in 6th grade, I was overwhelmed with seemingly unbearable sadness - I had to sit down, and when I did, I just cried and cried. My councillor had called my parent, and I had to leave school because I was not able to stop crying or feeling sad. This was my first experience with acknowledging my depression.

By the 7th grade, my anxiety disorder had developed from what I can say was disabling me on a social level into something that was disabling me on a level of functioning. Since my episode in the 6th grade, I had been having daily and constant panic attacks that would keep me from going to school or staying in school. My doctor had increased my dosage of Zoloft significantly at this point.

It wasn't far into the 7th grade when my mother stopped me from committing suicide. I had been in a constant state of depression, mood swings (even spurts of extreme anger), and anxiety attacks. I had planned to poison myself with whatever I could find in my bathroom and end my suffering. My mother caught me searching through the cabinets and drawers.

I was hospitalized the next morning and put on new medications whose names I can't even recall. I spent a couple of days in the hospital, among other kids around my age who were dealing with issues and problems that had them hospitalized too. When I was discharged, I had therapists visit my house and check-up on me to see that I didn't need to be re-hospitalized.

Throughout the 7th grade, I still faced the challenge of functioning, and more importantly attending school. I had begun seeing a new doctor who was putting me off medications, raising dosages, and putting me on new medications. I began to distrust this doctor as soon as I had been feeling the many side-effects and withdrawals of the medications he was giving me and taking me off of.

I began seeing a new doctor and a new therapist after my mother realized this new doctor was doing more harm than any good. My teachers and other figures in my school were informed of my disorder and situation with suicide. They were all very understanding and supportive, along with my mother and my father who were divorced.

This new practice I was seeing was extremely helpful. They weened me off of the many medications I had been on, and slowly began to see that I try new medications. Therapy was more helpful than what I saw it to be, and after trial and error, I was on a combination of low doses of Depakote and Abilify to help with my mood, anxiety, and depression.

According to my doctors, I was very sensitive to any pharmaceutical drugs. This would explain why I wasn't seeing results when my Zoloft dose was increased (these doctors also believed that Zoloft was doing more harm than good which might have led me to attempt suicide) along with being on other high doses of other drugs.

It was the 8th grade when I had finally been the most stable I had been in years, but there were still problems. I was still socially isolated, and my therapist, doctor and mother were one of the few people I could talk to or have listen to me. When I began having thoughts of suicide (which had always been there since my hospitalization) constantly, I was able to enter a day-time rehabilitation that I attended for 2 weeks instead of going to school.

The program offered group therapy and one-on-one therapy, and I left the program with much understanding of my disorder, myself, and others who suffer from similar issues.

As I entered High School in the 9th grade, my life took a turn for the better. I had developed a group of friends and was the happiest I had been in years. My anxiety disorder was still an issue, and I was put on an education plan where if I began to become too anxious, I would be able to work quietly in a classroom with other students who needed a quiet place as well.

By the 10th grade, I was happier than the year before. I enjoyed a summer with friends for the first time in my life, had weened off of my Depakote, and lost a lot of weight that the drug had caused me to gain. I struggled less and less with my anxiety as the year went on, and I began to become interested in music. By the 11th grade, I was attending concerts and going to shows pertaining to the punk and metal scene of my state.

My senior year in high school (12th grade) was the most enjoyable year of my life. I was travelling to my state's capitol to embrace my interest in music whenever I had the money or time, was getting outstanding grades, and had a weekend job. I decided towards the end of the school year to stop taking medication altogether. I immediately stopped ...

(I have returned from sharing a blunt with some friends.)

... taking my pill, and was gradually overwhelmed with anxiety for a long 30 days, if not longer.

I noticed that the day I graduated High School, I had no real responsibilities. My summer job wasn't until the week after next, and I had money to spend on my delights. So I spent my time getting high, and continued smoking when I even started working. I felt that stress had been lifted from my shoulders, but it wasn't until I had to stop smoking pot due to oral surgery that I realized I would become anxious if I abstained from marijuana for a longer period of time.

So I smoked a couple of days in a row, and realized that pot makes me anxiety dissipate. I had been extremely stressed, missing work, not sleeping up until this:


I get picked up from two high school peers to pick up some weed for ourselves, and we ended up hanging out, smoking a blunt, and connecting. I just got dropped off back at home, my spirits are high, and I look back with a smile on my face as the two pals made a funny joke. The world is beautiful, and I have took a step back to acknowledge the present, as I pat my dog and enjoy her presence as she hops on me trying to lick me and we both share the feeling of joy.

I'm in my bedroom now, and I sit down at my computer and open up iTunes right away. I learned earlier that the guitarist of Motorhead had passed away yesterday, so I put on their track titled "Hellraiser" in homage to Würzel, may he rest in peace. I'm enjoying life, I'm happy, and the cloud of depression always overhead is gone and the sky is bright blue.

...

I believe my analogy and poem answer my topic question.

I'm 18 years old, and live in a state where marijuana is decriminalized if under a certain amount. I'd get a ticket with a fee on it if I was caught smoking a joint. I'm heading to college this Fall, and it looks like a bright future right now.

I came to write this topic, which took some time, depressed and uncertain about whether or not marijuana actually helps me - as in if my high isn't happiness, its just a high. I can answer that question myself after, for the first time ever, really, reviewing, acknowledging, and writing my past and the struggles that I faced during that time.

This has been an epiphany.

- Sean