I’m putting all my eggs in one basket (I’m trying Medical Cannabis).

For most of my life, I have been in severe physical and mental pain.

I am 26, but my body feels like that of someone well over triple that. My pain was ignored, belittled, and I was mocked by doctors when I showed up in tears as a teenager. I was told it was because I was overweight, then. So I lost weight- fast, in an admittedly extremely unhealthy way. The pain persisted. Then I was told my pain was because I’d lost weight so fast. My eating habits were a mess- fluctuating from not eating to binge eating, but it didn’t matter what size I was. The pain never went away. I had a very similar experience with my extremely heavy, extremely painful periods. I lost consciousness and was physically sick multiple times before I was finally offered “help”. It turns out “help” meant realising something was, in fact, medically wrong with me but then simply telling me to take ibuprofen.

I quickly realised nobody was going to help me with whatever this issue was. I was a teenager, I had no confidence and didn’t have the ability to advocate for myself. I knew the way I was being treated was unfair, but when I sought camaraderie on the internet I found endless people- especially women- in the same situation. There didn’t seem to be a solution.

So I just got on with life. I put on a brave face, and cried when I got home and was able to lay down after a day of my body screaming at me.

It’s not nice to feel like your body is trying to kill you. I have no doubt it exacerbated the already existing mental health issues I was dealing with.

I was also diagnosed with mental illnesses as a teenager. This didn’t surprise anybody who knew me. I was having panic attacks regularly, and I definitely wasn’t hiding my suicidal ideation as well as I’d thought at the time. I would come home from school and lock myself away in my bedroom, venting on the internet about how it felt like there was nobody who ‘got it’. I self harmed a lot as a teenager- not rare, especially at the time, but when I look back at that time I feel so much guilt for not protecting that young girl. She deserved a lot more kindness than I allowed her.

Anybody who’s tried to access mental health care in the UK knows how it goes. It was slightly easier when I was in school- CAHMS is relatively easy to access, they’re just also… a bit shit. Multiple rounds of CBT, multiple rounds of being pulled out of classrooms and hearing whispers from my classmates, multiple rounds of being sat in front of strangers and told to rationalise what I was going through.

Nothing stuck.

Again, I got on with life. I put on a brave face, and cried when I got home and was able to be alone after a long day of my brain screaming at me.

My journey into adulthood, like most people’s, was complex- filled with family issues and friendship drama and trying to understand myself. I ended up moving from my home village to a city, like so many others, and working in hospitality. I’d had hospitality experience as a teenager but had experienced so much anxiety that I’d been in a near constant state of panic, and it had ended with me having mental breakdowns in the middle of the night and begging to not have to return.

The hospitality jobs I chose in the city, however, provided the opportunity for discounted alcohol and free cigarettes. What a perfect way to numb the pain.

I do miss my cocktail bartending days. I had the most fun I think I’ll ever have in my life at those jobs. Easy access to any and all substances, extremely fun colleagues, and I was good at it. Being truly good at something for maybe the first time in my life felt good.

Unfortunately, the pay was abysmal and there was no sign of that changing (despite being promised otherwise- a different story for another time). I was fed up of having to argue for the money I was rightfully owed, and I was deep in credit card debt from just trying to survive. I know many of my friends in that industry were in the same situation. I got a second job at a café.

The café was paying me more for less hours than the bartending job.

I had to quit bartending. I was doing early start full day shifts during the week, and then at the weekend I was doing closing shifts (which meant I was getting home at around 7am- after I’d have started my shifts at the café).

As you can imagine, I had pushed my body beyond its limits. I was so used to living in extreme pain, and getting flare ups where it got even worse, and pushing through anyway using painkillers and alcohol.

Then I got sober.

I don’t think I was ever a full blown alcoholic in the traditional sense, but I was definitely using alcohol to cope with both the mental and physical pain I was experiencing daily. I had been for a long time by the time I admitted it was an issue. It was extremely difficult and I lost my way a few times, but at the time of writing I am now over two years without alcohol- or any other substance that makes life a lot more fun.

I’d hoped it would improve my physical health. I know these things take time, so I was more than prepared to give time.

I was not prepared to feel like I’d been hit by a lorry every day. It started at the beginning of 2025- I could feel my usual pain getting worse. My knees, my shoulders, my wrists, my fingers, my elbows, my neck, my back- all places I’m very used to feeling pain, but never to the extent of 2025. I was in agony. I really, really tried to push through with painkillers and CBD oil and heat/ice therapy.

Then one day, I finished my shift and on my walk home I realised I could not physically walk any further. My hips- a part of my body that had never really given me trouble before- were locked. I was stuck. It was winter so it was already dark, and I was stuck. I tried getting a taxi, but I was only half a mile from my front door. Nobody would pick me up.

I stayed frozen on the side of the street for over two hours in the cold, wind, and rain. I managed to lower myself onto a stone wall so I was at less risk of being run over by a deliveroo driver with his eyes on his phone, but I was acutely aware that I was still in danger. I’d had an incident with a stalker in the not so distant past, and he was known to be dangerous. I was terrified.

I made it home in the end, and I went to work the next day. I can’t believe I did it in retrospect, but I was truly skilled in working through intense pain by the time. I worked a few more weeks in this state, tears in my eyes near constantly, unable to move in a normal way, slower than ever, with my teeth grit and my hands shaking. I think my customers thought I was dying. I felt like I was.

In March of 2025, the pain won. Well, actually, the stiffness won. It takes me hours after waking up to be able to get out of bed, now. I had to start using a rollator to walk. For a few weeks I thought that was the solution- take the pressure off my hips and knees, and I could get by!

But that was putting the pressure on my elbows, wrists, and shoulders. It was pulling at my back. It wasn’t sustainable.

I’ve been mostly housebound since March 2025. For a few months I was able to make the (extremely short) walk to my GP and pharmacy, but that stopped too. I know now that I wouldn’t be able to get there and back. I struggle to even get to the kitchen of my tiny shoebox flat most days.

Not being able to get to the pharmacy means not being able to get the medication I’m prescribed. It wasn’t helping anyway, but it angers me that there seems to be no process in place for people in a situation like mine. I have asked the pharmacy if they can deliver my medication- the answer is no. Since I have nobody in the area who could pick it up for me, I’m stuck.

So, I’ve been in severe pain for as long as I can remember.

It’s been bad enough for a year that I haven’t been able to work. It’s been bad enough for half a year that I haven’t been able to leave my house.

My life has, essentially, stopped.

I’m 26 and I can’t do anything. I often feel like one of those sad television averts of the lonely elderly people at Christmas. I can’t leave the house. I can’t invite friends or family to my home because

a) the thought of having people in my house terrifies me- I can thank the stalking incident, and a couple more terrifying moments of my life, for that, and

b) it’s a mess. I’ve been in this much pain for this long, it’s a state. I’d be mortified to have anyone come here while it’s like this.

I need to start living again.

I know that the longer I stay holed up here, the longer I can avoid any social interaction, the further back into the mental pit I can go. It’s scary.

In the beginning of this journey I had some support from an online counsellor through a charity, but that only lasted until the summer. She was fantastic, and I think I owe her me surviving the start of this, but with nobody to turn to for many months now it’s starting to feel like I’m not part of the world anymore.

I know where that feeling leads, and I really don’t want to return to that particular state.

So, I’ve exhausted my options in terms of medical care. I’ve been through the NHS, I’ve gone private (twice), and while I now have a diagnosis (one that likely isn’t the full story according to the consultant who gave it) I have no access to any treatments.

I’ve been aware of medical cannabis and the proposed benefits to those with the same conditions as me for a while. But due to the way I’ve been treated by medical professionals in the past, I’ve always assumed I would be denied access. I’ve been reading through the experiences of people in similar situations and I decided I needed to try.

I was more than prepared to be denied. Story of my life- “yes, there’s an issue, but no, we won’t do anything about it. bye”.

That’s not what happened.

I first signed up to the clinic, uploaded all my documents, and filled in the form on the 14th of January. On the 15th, I was requested to book an eligibility call. The clinic I chose is currently experiencing a very high level of existing medical cannabis patients switching to them, so their appointments are getting booked up fast. I had my call booked for the first available date- the 29th of January.

I had my call. It was simple, the (very kind) lady asked questions I could actually answer confidently. When I asked questions, she answered. It was an actual, functioning conversation where I was listened to and believed.

I’ve not had one of those regarding healthcare in a while.

On the 30th of January I received an email stating I’d been approved for treatment and that the pharmacy was open. I placed an order for everything I needed- the medication from the pharmacy, a dry herb vaporiser from a website recommended by a uk medical cannabis forum (r/medicalcannabisuk), and various bits and bobs from another website recommended by the same forum. All together I’ve spent just under £600 so far- but this is more than many people will spend. I have read every vaporiser review I could find and settled on one that isn’t cheap, and have ordered a variety of different medication (five different strains) as I want to be sure I give things the best chance of working.

Everything has an expected delivery date of today, the 31st of January. It’s currently the early hours of the morning and I’m writing this blog post instead of sleeping as my mind is wide awake, and I’m honestly too scared to sleep now as if I can’t get out of bed when the post man rings then I don’t know when I’ll receive my medication.

I have surprisingly little experience with cannabis recreationally. It just wasn’t something I craved all that much- I remember joking to a friend once that it just felt like I’d taken anxiety medication and a good painkiller.

Well. Now I’d really, really like some anxiety medication and a good painkiller. But since I can’t access either of those things, and I’m terrified of getting hooked on good painkillers anyway, I’m putting all my eggs in one basket.

I don’t really know what to expect.

I’ve seen all these people in similar situations to my own saying that medical cannabis has drastically improved their quality of life, but I don’t think this is something I can believe will happen to me unless it actually does.

I hope it does. It would be very nice to start living again.

One of my symptoms is memory loss and brain fog, so I don’t trust myself to be able to remember anything regarding which medications help what symptoms. I need to write to keep track, so I’m planning on using this blog to document my experiences. It will be a help to me, and hopefully will be able to help somebody else in a similar situation.

I want to be optimistic, and I know that if none of the medications I’m trying this time work out then there’s always next time. I can keep trying. I have to.