UnSocially Acceptable

It was October of 2018 that I reached a breaking point with what we all can and cannot discuss in polite conversation.

People ask you how you are doing and your response is a stock “I am doing well, and you?” Each utterance is a lie, on both sides.

The suicide rate in this country is astronomical. Your dear friend Jacob kills himself (because more men tend to take their lives than women do) and everyone is in shock. You say, “Oh I wish he would have told me, I would have tried to help him.” Or worse, “I didn’t think he was that depressed.”

The odds are Jacob did try to reach out in one small way or another but it was ignored. Not intentionally but who ever he reached out to probably got weirded out by something he said and tried to downplay the statement. Or they were listening to respond rather than listening to understand. Whatever the situation, it truly is not their fault Jacob killed himself, and it truly is not their fault that they missed his attempt at reaching out. We never learned how to handle this as a society, we just don’t teach this sort of empathy or compassion.

The sad fact of the matter is that we live in a society that we don’t talk about such things. We don’t discuss mental illness, it’s that simple. We actually don’t discuss a lot of important topics.

Back to October 2018. I was unhappy with a lot of things in my life. My job was not what I wanted it to be. My husband had taken a job to have a better work/life balance but was now working more than he was at his previous job and that was causing problems between us. All of this was the perfect recipe for my autoimmune diseases to grab hold and make my life so much worse.

In a desperate attempt to gain control of my downward spiral into depression and anxiety brought on by my current situation, I turned to my personal social media. Of course, there were a few people who thought I was “brave” to post something so raw and there were a lot of people who didn’t know how to react. A lot of people thought they should at least reach out but when it came to actually being able to “support” they still didn’t know what to do. Not their fault- society hasn’t prepared them for such deep and emotional shit.

I keep my social media small, I like it that way. I am more known for posting “funny” and “random” thoughts than I am for much else. I am sure that is all social media, the funny stuff and dog videos are all anyone cares about on Facebook. Personally, I don’t really like posting that I am so depressed that I can’t get out of bed and just slept and cried my weekend away. BUT I wanted to hold myself accountable and I wanted the other people on my social media who were doing the same thing in silence to know that they were not alone. Truly. I was going to support myself by showing the world I am vulnerable too.

However, this could have been in my mind at the time, but it actually felt like many people were just responding out of a duty but they really didn’t want that on their newsfeed. I started to get a lot of “buck up” and “it could be worse” responses. So I decided to start a blog. This blog, actually. I would keep my social media presence on the light side and I would have this blog for those who did want to read something real.

That’s how this blog was born. UnSocially Acceptable (USA, please tell me you caught how clever that is)! A place where I can talk about the things that I think we really SHOULD be talking about.

Yup, that was the plan. Then I got sicker and sicker and I physically and mentally couldn’t do it. Until now, CBD helped me.

A little bit about me, real quick(ish):

I like to write so until I get the hang of this blogging thing my posts are going to be long (TBH they will probably be long once I get the hang of it anyway).

So. Me. My name is Trina. I am 34 years old. I am from Sugar Land, Texas and I currently live in Richmond, TX. I have a couple of autoimmune diseases and because I am extra I also have endometriosis and PCOS (that’s right, we will have some postings about broken uteri too). BUT I am not my diseases, in fact, I am doing everything to make myself well despite modern medicine.

I met my husband when I was 19. The night I met him I told him I was going to marry him. That scared him away. I get it. I know I sounded like a crazy bitch. At any rate, he eventually decided my particular brand of crazy was just right for him and it all worked out. We have one daughter and she suffered a traumatic brain injury during birth 13 years ago and she is special needs. She is not her injury and she doesn’t let her TBI define her. She is an amazing young lady.

I like dogs and have 3 (2 Aussies and 1 German Shepherd).

I also have a cat and she’s an asshole.

I went to college and graduate school and did pretty well for myself in that regard. Although, I don’t have much use for my degrees in my day job.

It is my goal to turn this into a space where I can discuss my life, my cannabis advocacy and so much more.

Thank you for reading, Trina


During birth my daughter sustained a Traumatic Brain Injury and had near constant tonic-clonic (Grand Mal) seizures for the first days of her life.
She was about a year old when we realized she was a little slow on some “major” milestones.
It took 3 therapists that worked with her every day day for months before she could walk – she was 23 months old.
It was around age 3 when someone said that she might benefit from that “new oil from weed?!”
I googled and discovered Cannabidiol (“CBD“).
At the time, CBD was fringe science and pretty much only legal in Colorado. I begged my husband to let us [illegally] get some for our daughter. He said no. He wasn’t willing to hear me out or listen to the success stories. The stigma of the evils of weed was real we weren’t going to give our child drugs.
He and I are opposites. He is on the straight and narrow, work hard, do right, serve your country and always play by the rules. There’s nothing wrong with that. I love him for who he is- even when he is close-minded and stubborn as a mule… mostly.
I, on the other hand, am scrappy. When there are closed doors in my face, I find my own way in. I trust no one (especially the government and big pharma), I am sarcastic, I speak my mind and I cuss a lot, I question everything, and I most definitely don’t play by the rules- I study the rules and learn how to break them. I suppose he loves me because I am different.
Over the years, I have brought CBD up over and over as a good treatment for our daughter, she has anxiety and emotional issues- instead of CBD he agreed to put her on Zoloft– which I think is worse than CBD but he thinks a pharmaceutical from big pharma and approved by the FDA is trustworthy. His option is legal and at the time, mine wasn’t. Zoloft it was. Then it was stronger, and stronger, and stronger doses.
I begged him to move to Colorado where CBD was legal. This is an ongoing request of mine.
Fall/Winter of 2018 and early 2019. I get sick. Real sick. The kind of sick that we discussed and made plans for my family for after I left them. That. Sick. I was miserable, still working, pretending every day that I wasn’t as sick as I was. My medicine doesn’t work. I am told that if my lungs aren’t clear I will have a max of 3-5 years left. Even after hearing that, I plan to still work full time as long as I can. I am told that I probably won’t see my 40th birthday. I share a little bit here and there about my struggle with depression, anxiety, and how the disease is affecting me through my social media accounts. At home, I am a mess. I am crying non-stop thinking about how I am going to leave a special needs child without her mother. I am angry- because the doctors should have caught this disease so many times before. I am pathetically hopeful that my lungs are not damaged because then maybe I will live to see 40. 
The test results on my lungs come in.
My lungs are clear. That’s the best news I could get. Maybe I will see 40 after all? With this piece of great news the doctors begin to suppress my immune system and I am prescribed Cymbalta. A few days into taking Cymbalta I lose consciousness walking into a CVS parking lot. At the ER my husband and I were told that less than 1% of people who take Cymbalta have this issue where the brain basically shuts down. Great. What will I do now for my pain? I am put on bed rest until the Cymbalta has worked its way out of my system.
My Rheumatologist tells me that he can’t prescribe me anything in place of the Cymbalta. Really? Of all the pharmaceuticals in the entire world, the only prescription drug to treat my neuro-muscular pain is Cymbalta? Nothing else? Fine. I nod my head and tell my doctor that I understand. Meanwhile a plan is forming in my head and I have just written this guy off as stooge of The Man.
I reach out to a friend who was cut from the same cloth as I was. She has MS. She tells me that there is another way.
A way I was already considering.
CBD. And, yes, even THC.
This time things are are different. CBD was made legal across all 50 states by the Federal government. The Farm Bill passed and CBD is legal! The question I have now is, “which on is legit and which one is a rip off?”

Thus began my deep dive into the scandalous world of the Devil’s Lettuce, cannabis.

I am an advocate of a better way as I have experienced a radical change in my health over the last 6 weeks. Just 4 days into my journey with this and my partner at work said I was different. I was, I felt different but I wanted to make sure it wasn’t just wishful thinking. I kept quiet. I didn’t want to post to social media because of the “stigma.” Then one day about a month ago I posted about CBD and few friends messaged me. I answered their questions and moved on. Then the other day I had this thought, “F the stigma, this stuff matters! People need to know!” This hasn’t affected me negatively, it has helped me. Why should I hide in shame because someone doesn’t understand what CBD really is?

I am still me. In fact, I feel more like the me before I got sick. 
The laws need to change (I do believe that eventually it will all be legal) but that change will be slow coming unless the people know about it. 
I am going to advocate for a better way because I do believe that CBD is the TRUE Essential Oil.