Hello Overgrow family,
I want to tell you my story. Not just about using cannabis, but about living with it — from the first time I smoked, to becoming a medical patient, and finally to growing my own plants as medicine.
I grew up with ADHD, hyperactivity, and depression. Since childhood I was labeled as the “problem kid” in school — failing grades, constant trouble, and teachers who didn’t know what to do with me. By age 12, I was already in deep depression, sometimes thinking about ending my life. At 14, I worked mornings as a minor apprentice, and went to a poorly funded public night school. It was rough — poverty, crime, trafficking, and no real structure. That’s where I first met cannabis.
At that time, cannabis came to me through the world of crime and marginalization. Smoking was a badge of rebellion — “I’m tough, I’m outside the rules.” It wasn’t medicine, it wasn’t wellness, it was just part of surviving in that environment. I used it on and off for some years, then quit for about six. During those years, I relied on psychiatric meds that never gave me real relief.
But I couldn’t stop asking myself: why did cannabis make me feel better than any pill ever could?
After years of stress, depression, and suicidal thoughts, I gave cannabis another try. And that’s when everything shifted. Slowly, painfully, I stopped seeing myself as a “drug user” and began to recognize myself as a patient. Cannabis wasn’t a symbol of crime anymore — it became my medicine.
This transformation was not easy. It’s one thing to change your habits; it’s another to change your identity. I had to let go of the old stigma — “lazy, criminal, irresponsible” — and embrace the truth: cannabis works for me, better than standard treatments, with fewer side effects. That shift was both liberating and deeply emotional.
And then came another step: the right to grow my own medicine. I don’t have much — I survive on about $220 per month — but I fought for, and received, a judicial authorization to cultivate at home. This changed everything. Suddenly, I wasn’t just a patient consuming; I became a patient cultivating my own lifeline.
Of course, I don’t have access to expensive genetics, high-tech equipment, or fancy nutrients. With my low income, I do what I can with what I have. Every seed, every small harvest, is a victory. My grows may not be perfect, but they are mine — and they are good enough to bring me quality medicine that keeps me alive, stable, and hopeful.
Cannabis gave me something I never had before: agency. Instead of being a passive patient waiting for prescriptions or depending on pills that never worked, I can now be an active part of my own healing.
And beyond the personal, there’s the social side. Cannabis has also given me community. Before, it isolated me — tied to crime, stigma, shame. Today, it includes me. I can come to spaces like Overgrow, and instead of hiding my story, I can share it openly. Here, cannabis is not about exclusion — it’s about support, culture, health, and understanding.
This plant has been with me through my worst times and my best. It saved me from despair. It gave me dignity. And it continues to remind me that even with almost nothing, with patience and love, you can still grow something that keeps you alive.
Thanks for reading my story. And thank you to this community for showing that cannabis can be so much more than what society’s stigma tries to paint it as.