— My Situation —
I’m sharing this because most people have only seen fragments of what’s been happening, and the whole picture explains a lot.
My aunt died in July of last year. My mom has been in and out of the hospital exponentially ever since, and was recently diagnosed with diffuse large B-cell lymphoma, on top of everything from 2020. I’ve been trying to manage hospice-level medical chaos, property issues, a car with an engine still stuttering from hitting a deer or encountering an entirely iced over road to hell, and a household that’s been barely holding together.
Then Walmart fired me.
The reason? A Cake-brand vape pen that was sitting in a drawer while I was visibly distressed. I wasn’t written up… or given anything in writing. They suspended me verbally, went silent for a week, and then called to say the “investigation” was over and I was terminated.
All of this happened days after I reported multiple workplace violations, including managers telling associates they couldn’t discuss wages (illegal), fake active-threat training sign-offs (dangerous), chronic understaffing (constant), and misshandling of private employee data.
Ten years with the company. Gone overnight. For something that wasn’t even a policy violation.
If I’ve seemed overwhelmed or disconnected lately, it’s hard to not understand why.
— The Bigger Question —
And now that the dust is settling, I keep circling back to something bigger:
What does America want?
We called people like me “essential” during the pandemic. We all clapped for them, praised them, said the country literally couldn’t function without #essentialworkers. And then, once the crisis faded from the headlines, we went right back to treating essential workers as if they’re disposable.
Every associate I knew in COVID is still carrying PTSD-level weight. We lived through panic-buying, threats, uncertainty, understaffing, grief, and constant fear of bringing something home to our families. That doesn’t vanish just because the news cycle moved on.
So what does the country expect from us now?
To keep working through trauma with a smile?
To pretend normal returned?
To break quietly in the background so nobody has to think about it?
If essential workers were essential enough to hold up the country in a catastrophe, why aren’t they essential enough to be treated with basic fairness now?
This isn’t just my story — it’s the story of millions.
— A Message to Lawmakers —
And to the people writing the laws that shape all of this:
The campaign against hemp-derived products is turning into a witch hunt. Not thoughtful regulation. Not science-based policy. A fear-driven crackdown wrapped in the language of “public safety.”
Instead of clarity and standards, we’re watching rushed bans shoved into appropriations bills, vague THC limits that don’t reflect modern chemistry, and legislative panic about compounds most lawmakers can’t even define.
And the people crushed underneath this?
Workers.
People coping with stress.
People dealing with unresolved pandemic trauma.
People who turned to legal hemp not to escape the world, but to stay functional inside it.
We’re not criminals.
We’re not health threats.
We’re the same “essential workers” you praised when it was convenient.
If safety were the real goal, lawmakers would focus on testing, labeling, mental-health support, clear standards, and education — not blanket bans driven by lobbyists and political optics.
So here’s the question you should have to answer publicly:
What does America gain from hunting down hemp users who are just trying to stay afloat?
And what message does it send to the workers who carried this country through the worst crisis in a century?
If you’re going to keep calling us #essential, start treating us like it.
Because right now, it feels less like regulation and more like a purge — and the people paying the price are the same ones you depended on most.