Marijuana and Mental Health – Part 2

If you haven’t read it already, Part 1 is available here  

In the weeks before I could arrive in Nairobi, as X’s parents were absolutely desperate to help her somehow and they didn’t trust the medical system in Kenya, they called a psychiatrist in Mumbai, India, who had, a couple of years previously, diagnosed X with anxiety and had prescribed her a light antipsychotic. X had been taking the medicine regularly, and as she was doing well, the dosage was reduced to the bare minimum. She had been smoking weed on and off by then, then she got involved with new friends taking various drugs. At first, she mixed her medication with the drugs and then she stopped taking it entirely, replacing it with the high she got from her partying.

The psychiatrist instructed X’s parents to dissolve an antipsychotic in water and put it in her food. He promised them she would be fine. They did as told for a couple of weeks, but it didn’t make sense to them or to me. How much medicine was going in every day? Of course the dosage would be different everyday as X ate different quantities of food each day. We understood, in an emergency situation, this might be needed for a short period, but how long can anyone sustain this for? The psychiatrist gave no further help.

I felt abhorration at the so-called doctor sitting thousands of miles away. I felt like he saw this poor young lady not as the broken, pained child that she was, but as a wild, caged animal with no future. How can a human being spend the rest of her life in one room with drugs put in her food to keep her calm? Her family knew this was not the way to go. Her mother cried for her daughter every day. Her baby needed proper help but she no clue what to do.

This psychiatrist made me frightened for the millions of people who follow the advice of healthcare professionals with absolute trust without addressing the real problem. How many people are literally locked up in homes and rooms, even shackled in cages and medicated? I have seen harrowing footage of mental health patients treated worse than dangerous animals in cages because nobody around them actually cares enough or knows what to do with them. People call them ‘mad’, ‘pagal’, people don’t see them as human, don’t realise they have a story, they don’t feel their pain.

X was in tremendous pain. We had to find the right help for her, fast.

When I arrived, initially, X was dismissive of me. Thankfully, the little emergency medication in her system helped to make her somewhat calm and responsive and eventually accepting of my presence. But X was still paranoid and plagued by depression and the continuous harrowing hallucinations and voices. She had not even tried to leave the house for a year and a half aside from the time she stripped at the front gates of the compound.

While her family and I researched doctors and psychiatric facilities in America, India, the UK and South Africa, I spent some time with X every day. Whenever she was ready to talk, I listened. She began to open up to me about her life, how she was feeling and what she was experiencing on a daily basis. It took a long time for her to tell me the whole story. She cried so much; she was so confused. My heart hurt at her innocence and pain.

In her vulnerability and naivety, X had been taken advantage of, used for money, sexually abused, and violently assaulted. And she, like me, grew up in a violent household, where things were tense still to that day.

As a child, X was quiet and mostly kept to herself. She struggled at school and felt neglected by her angry and depressed parents. Her brother too witnessed all the violence growing up and became an addict himself. Smoking weed 24/7. He grew into an angry young man and his violent thoughts spilled out into the violent abuse of his own family members and other people. He justified his acts of violence against his sister, saying he did it to help her, to keep her under control. She was a mental health patient who needed love, understanding and treatment, not a beating. The last violent act on his sister is what sent her spiraling into the deepest mental pit for a year and a half.

X didn’t know it then, but she’d been dealing with psychosis type confusion for years, since she started smoking weed. I spoke to a friend of X’s who was diagnosed with bipolar disorder which led to psychosis. He told me that his horror story started one night when he was out at a party with X and their friends and they were taking drugs. He mentioned that he first witnessed strange behaviour from X that night and something happened to him too. Luckily, he has an incredibly clued up and supportive family. They got him the right help at the right time at a facility in Gujarat, India. To this day, he is on medication, but he is entirely responsible for himself, qualifying as an architect and has started his own architectural firm. He has been a great support to us and to X.

We decided to try and take X to the same facility in Gujarat, but had no idea how to willingly get her on a plane. I prayed to Swami ji for an answer. And one day, it came. From Kenya itself, via London.

A family friend of my parents was visiting London from Kenya. He went to see my parents at their home, and as soon as he walked in, he saw the large photograph of Swami ji on the wall and asked about him. The man then opened up about his son, who is a mental health patient. When he heard I was in Kenya, he asked to meet me upon his return.

This man was the first parent of a mental health patient I met who openly talked about it. And it is because of his willingness to talk that we found the right help for X. It was through him, meeting some more young people and their families who were battling similar mental health challenges, that I learned so much. X’s parents connected with them too and in talking with the parents of these patients, we were given the name of a fantastic mental health facility, just a 10 min drive from X’s house.

I cannot stress enough the importance of talking about mental health. The taboo about it needs to be blasted out for good.

Too many people are unwell. Too many people need help.

The more we talk about it, the more we can help each other.

When we talk about it, we offload the burden of this ‘dark secret’. Having a mental health patient in the family is nothing to be ashamed of. 

You never know, your next door neighbour, cousin, or co-worker might be dealing with the same thing in their family, and they might have an answer for you, or you just might be able to help them. 

X’s family were extremely hesitant about the facility, as I mentioned before, they didn’t trust their local medical system. I went to visit the place with X’s father. It was a very simple building, with basic rooms. X’s father’s heart sank when he saw the place. He couldn’t imagine sending his daughter there.

But it turned out, this was the place that could provide X with all the help she needed. The doctors there are fantastic. They specialise in schizophrenia. They take a holistic approach: from medication, to counselling, occupational therapy, meditation, exercise, diet – right down to how much water the patient needs to drink, and helping them get re-integrated into society.

I was surprised and so pleased to see posters on the walls specifically about the effects of marijuana on mental health. It is as clear to them as it is to me that marijuana causes psychosis and schizophrenia.

In the UK recently, I was shocked when the mother of a schizophrenic patient told his health worker that he smokes weed and she told her, it was alright, it will relax him. It seems, the NHS is clearly far, far behind in what they understand about marijuana and mental health.

The night before X was admitted, X was gently asked by her parents to accept help and go to a hospital. She, unsurprisingly refused and became a little volatile. Her parents seemed like they had no fight left in them after that. But I applaud their determination and courage; the family, including X’s brother rallied together and made the call that finally changed X’s life for the better.

Unlike under the NHS in the UK, this facility had the liberty to send strong nurses and law enforcement, if necessary, with an injectable to the patient’s home. X’s mother especially was asked not to be there at the time as it could be traumatising for her. I prayed to Swami ji for it go as smoothly as possible. And I know he heard my prayer because X opened the door to the team and asked, “Are you the doctors?” and calmly went with them. There was no resistance. No struggle.

X spent a week in the facility and agreed to take an injectable and start therapy. She also willingly went to the facility in Gujarat for more treatment. She was on injectables for a while and then switched to oral medication. She is on a very low dose now and takes it regularly herself.

X says she still feels a little depressed from time to time, and I tell her that’s understandable after everything she has been through.  She dreams of getting married and having a family of her own. She has so much love to give. I know, in time, with Swami ji’s Grace, everything will get better and better. Healing doesn’t happen overnight. Just like the voices went away, the depression will too.

It took a few months for the voices to die down completely. X said that at first they were loud, constant and negative, and then they became more positive and quieter after the injectable. She decided to no longer respond to them, and when she ignored them completely, they finally went away!

The day X returned to the family business, was the most amazing day. The staff members who had not seen her for a year and a half where whooping, crying and dancing with joy. X’s family have their sweet, helpful, loving daughter back. She’s successfully getting her life back on track and helping to run the family business. And best of all, she’s in a position now to help others. I share X’s story here with her blessing.

X and I both hope and pray that if from this, even one person understands the dangers of taking drugs and doesn’t give in to temptation, our lives have been worthwhile.

X has so much love for Swami ji and she says her faith in God helped her recover so quickly. But you know what I think it is too?

As I mentioned before, X is one of the kindest, most helpful people I have met.

She is so positive. She’s forgiven her past and she holds no grudges. Not even against her brother. Even in her confusion, I never heard her complain once or ask, “Why me?” This is where her case is vastly different to W’s. A positive, grateful mind, full of faith, surrender and forgiveness can overcome anything.

When X came to the ashram, she had no problem mucking out the cowshed with me and being knee deep in garbage as we sorted though some of the rotting piles left behind by the construction workers. X’s spirit of service and outlook on life are no less than divine. She has faith in God and but she knows she has to take care of her physical and mental health. She knows no one is going to do everything for her. X knows she has to get up every morning and go to work. She knows she has to keep smiling and being grateful. She never misses an opportunity to be kind. It’s these little things that will keep her sane, literally.

X wants me to tell you that no matter how terrible the circumstances, there is ALWAYS hope.

All Gratitude to Swami ji for bringing this girl back from the depths of the darkest hell on this Earth and making her shine like the beautiful, strong, bright star that she is.

I love you, X. You are simply incredible. May your life, strength and positivity inspire the world.

If you’d like to leave a message below for X, please do. She will read them and your loving kindness will no doubt keep her motivated and help her on her healing journey 🧡

EDIT: A message from X

“My heart Is filled with love after reading all the comments. I’m so grateful for each and everyone who took time to pour out their love and support ❤️🙏
So happy!!” 

Please go here to continue to Part 3