The Use of Cannabis Tinctures to Treat PTSD by Mark Heinrich aka Smokin Moose

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Founder
I am a sufferer of the insidious illness known as Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. It has plagued my life for nearly 20 years. It has cost me a wife, my home, my kids, and finally, my sanity. It took me to the depths of despair, and led me into a life of poly-drug use in an attempt to escape the horrors of my mind.
There seemed no escape.

It was not until I started to hear reports that cannabis was a valuable tool in dealing with PTSD that I began to feel some hope that things may change for the better. In order to alleviate my symptoms and pursue a normal lifestyle, I turned to a tincture of cannabis with successful results.

The relaxing, and anxiolitic (antianxiety) effects of cannabis under some conditions has been known for centuries but it is only recently that I have begun to understand the complex way in which cannabinoids and the endocannabinoid (eCB) system modulate the expression of anxiety-type behaviour. I found immediate relief, but in a way that I least expected, and in a way that few others had discussed. I found that Cannabis suppressed my dreams!

There is a lot of science about how cannabis disrupts REM, in particular Delta 4 and Delta 5 stages of sleep. This sleep disruption was seen as a deleterious side effect of cannabis use. My observations were that quite the opposite was the case. I found it a necessary and beneficial side effect! The tincture of cannabis immediately became the primary treatment for my PTSD.

For sufferers of PTSD, nights can be a difficult time. The persistent night terrors and nightmares can destroy
the quality of life. They become a constant reminder of the past, and from a clinician’s point of view, are
very difficult to treat.

This is my story and my journey to recovery. It is not written as a scientific treatise. I share this with you to
highlight another wonderful aspect of medicinal cannabis, and hope others will learn and benefit from
my personal account.

“Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) results from extreme attack on psychological wellbeing involving
threat of loss of life or intense physical harm. Individuals stricken with this malady frequently find themselves
reliving the memories of the trauma through ‘flashbacks’ during waking hours and night terrors and nightmares when asleep, the latter two resulting in insomnia which further compromises psychological wellbeing. PTSD can completely undermine an individual’s attempts to operate as a functional member of society.” (Wikipedia)

Genesis of the Horror
In late 1977 I found myself sitting in the Youth Hostel in Munich. I had come to Europe in the hopes of meeting my father, who I knew to be attending a conference in Vienna. I had based my European budget on costs I had experienced during 18 months of traveling in North America, but Europe had proven to be far more expensive than I expected. I was broke, alone and desperate.

It was then that I was approached by a fellow traveler, a Rhodesian guy who called himself David. David told me he had been a mercenary in Rhodesia, and that he had come to Germany to recover after being wounded in a combat operation in Angola. David asked me if I would be interested in earning some quick cash by becoming a part of a syndicate that was transporting cars from Munich to Tehran. All I had to do was drive a BMW to Iran, with all expenses paid and DM600 bonus on delivery. The only catch was that I had to have the BMW registered under my name. The idea of doing this was quite exciting, so with empty pockets and a spirit of adventure, I signed up and became one of 5 drivers, all around my age (22), and headed off.

The journey from Munich to Tehran was along the Transport International Route (TIR). We drove nonstop to Istanbul, where we had a short respite while the 5 cars in our convoy were serviced and readied for the long haul to the border. In Istanbul we stayed at the Hotel Benson, and spent much of our 3 days hanging around the Pudding Shop. It was a blast to be quite honest, and the hash was cheap and plentiful.

After leaving Istanbul, we drove non-stop to the border crossing at Dogubyazit, where we were met by Kurdish smugglers who helped us with the crossing into Iran. Once in Iran, it was a clear run to Tehran, where I was eager to pick up my DM600. I understood the cars were to be sold and then used as taxis.

Now, this is where the tricky part came in. I had received a stamp in my passport at the border noting that I had brought a vehicle into Iran. If I left Iran without that vehicle I would be required to pay duty, as all cars imported into Iran were subject to a 100% impost. I was asked to give my passport over to the syndicate, so that the stamp in my passport could be removed. This was done, and all 5 drivers left Iran on the train to Istanbul, traveling as tourists who had arrived into Iran without a motor vehicle. I had just become an International car smuggler, and was reveling in the danger and excitement.

On my return to Istanbul, and filled with a sense of excitement, I decided to do another run. This proved to be the biggest mistake of my life. The second run was in a Mercedes and things went much as the first, but this time at the border things went awry. One of the drivers in our convoy was recognized by the Iranian Customs Officer who had processed his first entry a few weeks earlier. He was arrested, and the other vehicles in our convoy were closely scrutinized. I was told that unless I paid a US$5000 bond for the Mercedes I was driving I would not be given entry into Iran. As the car was to be sold in Tehran, paying a bond was not an option. I spoke with the leader of the syndicate and it was decided I would return to Istanbul, as the car would be sold there instead, albeit at a reduced profit. I exited Iran and re-entered Turkey, then drove back towards Istanbul.

The drive back was uneventful, until 100 kilometres short of Istanbul. I was pulled over by a police officer who had noticed the front number plate on the Mercedes was missing. It must have shaken loose on the bumpy roads in eastern Turkey. Ordinarily this would not be a problem, but on examination of my passport, the police officer noticed that I had an entry and exit stamp from Iran on my passport, dated the same day. Bear in mind the border crossing was remote, and this was very unusual activity.

Following several failed attempts to bribe the police, I was arrested, and taken to the local police station where I was interrogated, beaten, and beaten again. After several hours, I was transferred to Sagmalicar Prison in Istanbul. Ironically, I was transported in the Mercedes I had been caught in. I drove, believe it or not, with two armed police sitting in the rear seats with their AK47’s.

On arrival at Sagmalicar I was taken to a small room, stripped and beaten. Over the next week I was waterboarded, beaten frequently, had electrodes attached to my testicles, and I was buggered. I was seen as some sort of terrorist, munitions or drug smuggler, and it seemed impossible to convince them otherwise.

The fact that I had crossed into and out of Iran on the same day at a very remote border crossing had set alarm bells ringing. They were determined to discover their truth, and would not accept that I was but a smuggler of motor vehicles. Having had contact with Kurdish people did not help my situation.

After it dawned on them that I was in fact telling them the truth, I was locked up in a dark cell in solitary. The negotiations for baksheesh had begun, and my destiny was in the hands of the mighty baksheesh dollar. I cried out for God. I cried out for my mother. I cried out for help. None came, and my mind festered in that stinking putrid cell.

I was finally released after a payment of US$700. At no time was I taken to court, and at no time was I allowed to contact my Embassy or the Red Cross. I am not going into any further detail on my state of mind here. Suffice to say I was brutalized beyond anyone’s comprehension, and scarred deeply for life.

The Dreaming
Some 15 years after my release from Sagmalicar, I began having night terrors and nightmares on a regular occurrence. I would wake several times during the night, filled with fear and drenched with sweat. It would always be the same dreams, night after night after night. My life slowly started to unravel and my world began to be filled with anxiety and fear. I dreaded going to bed because my mind would fall back into the deep dark horrors of Sagmalicar as soon as I turned the lights off. I re-lived the beatings, and my sweats reminded me of the waterboarding. I became dysfunctional and my marriage collapsed. I fell into a sad life of poly-drug use, and began to sense a strong feeling of social exclusion. I felt incredibly alone.

The dreams came and went with an increasing frequency and intensity. I tried everything from strong sedatives to prolonged sessions of cognitive therapy with a forensic psychologist. It was one step forward and
two steps back. There was just no escaping the simple fact that I eventually needed to sleep and that all the
therapy in the world would not help. When the lights went out and I fell into the dark, my mind took me further into the dark. I was desperate to find answers.

I began to look for answers.

Reclaiming the Night
One advantage of growing older is that you can look back on the past and see patterns in your life. I had noticed over the years that when I smoked cannabis, my PTSD symptoms seemed lessened. I found in particular that my anxiety levels were diminished, and that depending on the strain of cannabis I was smoking, my moods were also modulated to tolerable levels. This was a critical observation as depression had set in as a result of my anxieties and sleep disorder. I noticed also that I was able to sleep through the night without dreaming. It was the absence of dreams was truly the key to finding the answers that no doctors or psychologists could give me.I started looking on the Internet and could find nothing on cannabis and dream suppression. Sure, there was plenty of info on PTSD and the wonderful results from using cannabis as a primary treatment regimen, but nothing specifically on REM and dream suppression.

I then made a decision that I would need to be the master of my own destiny, so I devised a cannabis based
treatment regimen, specifically tailored to meet my needs. I began to source cannabis strains that I knew to be efficacious in mood modulation and dream suppression. I collected genetics from around the world and began studying the results of my observations.

Over a period of time I began to notice that while the benefits of dream suppression were good from smoked cannabis, it was not good for me to be smoking. I looked for other avenues of THC delivery, with the basic premise being that any method chosen must have an easily titratable dosing method. I was not happy with medibles, as I discovered it took a long time to get an effect and it was difficult to get the correct dose. I was seeking relief from my dreaming, rather than seeking the high. In other words, I wanted the benefits of cannabis without the distortion of conscious thought you get when “high”.

I was at a point where I needed a miracle. Don’t Say Anything…Just “Mullaway.”

For the last 15 months I have been a contributing writer to 420 Magazine, an online cannabis awareness site based in Hollywood. I had spoken with my boss, Rob Griffin, and told him that I would be going to Nimbin to attend the Mardi Grass, as well as the Aussie Cannabis Cup. I wanted to write articles on what I experienced, as well as doing some networking. I knew Ed Rosenthal would be there, and I had spoken with Michael Balderstone and Andrew Kavasilas, so I was pretty geared up.

Mardi Grass proved to be a turning point in my life. It quickly became evident that the answers I was seeking to my PTSD issues were going to be answered. From the moment I met Lucy Charlesworth, I was sure there had been some divine intervention in my being in Nimbin, because a miracle did occur.

Mullaway Man is a man of compassion and love. He is an indigenous Australian who has a true passion for the cannabis plant. He is a benefactor of several compassion clubs, and what he does not know about cannabis, only God knows!

Mullaway Man and I had a chance to talk about my illness and my dilemma in finding the right medicine for my PTSD. Lucy Charlesworth had previously mentioned to me about Mullaway’s tinctures, and Mullaway explained to me the process of making a tincture. He gave me a small phial to take home with me to trial and see whether I found relief for both my pain and my dreaming issues. I knew that THC was particularly good for pain, and I was curious about the impact it may have on my dreaming. The best thing about Mullaway’s tinctures is that dose is easily titratable. It comes in a small medicine bottle, and has an eye-dropper for convenience of delivery of the medicine.

When I got back to Canberra, I found straight away that the tincture was the holy grail of medicines for the treatment of PTSD. Not only did it give me immediate and prolonged pain relief for my broken back, it also proved to be a wonderful mood modulator and dream suppressant. I have been using the tincture for nearly 2 months now, and I have not had a single night terror or nightmare since. I now look forward to going to bed, and my quality of life has profoundly increased.

The tincture is also convenient, as I am able to carry it in my pocket where ever I go. It is a socially acceptable way of administering my medicine, and it is easily titratable; I only need to adjust the number of drops required to get relief.

Mullaway’s tinctures are a miracle. I will write more on this in subsequent issues.

Having written all of this, I only need to remind you of one thing …
Don’t Say anything…just “Mullaway.”

Source: Treating Yourself - Fall 2008
 
Wow!Amazing Story! I too suffer from PTSD from my 4 year stent in the Marine Corps and use Marjuana but I smoke instead, sometimes some edibles if I can get my hands on some but I havent ever tried the tincture side of it. I'd be interested in giving it a shot as my lungs are screaming at me to stop. Where would i be able to find it if I live in NC, guess id have to travel or make it? Thanks for sharing your story. Best of luck to you brother.
 
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