DOSE:

smoked

Cannabis

BODY WEIGHT:

65 kg

I thought I'd take this oppertunity to dive into the depths of Cannabis induced anxiety attacks. There are those who have choofed many times and aside from an occasional dizziness and cases of mild vertigo, have had nothing but overwhelmingly positive marijuana experiences, and I am glad. Still, the cases are highly prevelant. A significant amount of my friends have sworn off bud due to the negative effects they have experienced whilst smoking.

This reaction to weed, has led in my opinion to the uncertainty many place upon marijuana. Those begrudged with feeling its presense encounter many problems, such as extreme paranoia, a loss of awareness and other symptoms likened to psychosis. My friends and I have a term for such a state, we call it 'greening out'. (I wouldn't imagine we invented that term btw, we just use it). Greening out has occured to me several times over the course of my weed experimentation, all of which were extremely similar in their workings.

The first time I greened out was several years ago, I was only 16 and a noobie to the art of bowl smoking. I have extremely Anti-Drug parents, so the idea of smoking cones in my room and blowing it out my bedroom window wasn't the smartest plan, but being caught wasn't what I had to fear. I am always uncertain when packing my bong, if theres too much, too little, if its going to get clogged, etc. I was thinking all of this that night, sitting by my window, listening for my parents' footsteps. You see, if the bowl was packed too tightly, then it wouldn't punch through into the bottle, and would instead burn and produce smoke, something a kid with anti-drug folks should be overly cautious in avoiding. It seemed like a good idea, therefore, to pack sensible cones, but up the quantity.

I was also strapped for time, given my parents' nature to idly stroll into my room at any given point of the day or night, without knocking or giving me any warning. It is because of these reasons I believe the anxiety was existing dormant in my conciousness, though it wasn't until a few moments after punching my 6th bowl in a matter of minutes, packed up all the utensils, aired out my room for a bit, brushed my teeth, and hopped and came back into my room, did I notice that something was askew.

It begins so mildly, and creeps from the shadows, slowly expanding its darkness until I am trapped in an eternal blackness of thought. In my case, I noticed the radiant warmth of my surroundings, as well as my own body. It began as pleasant, then gradually turned nauseating. I hopped into bed and picked up a book. After only reading the first line of a random page, a strange sensation came over me. My brain was trying to process an infinate amount of analysis', deductions, philosophies, memories and anecdotes, all while balancing that with retaining my rationality of my awareness.

The elevated heart rate seems to be the catalyst in many instances of the panic attack cases involving marijuana, and it certainly was for me. I remember closing my eyes and feeling wholly the power of my heart. The stress it was under trying to pump blood through my body. The rhythm became somewhat hypnotic, and soon I was finding myself lost in a mental world of backwards turning gears powering double sided guns (I don't know why I thought of that). I wrenched myself out of that state and ran to the bathroom.

It was in here that I lost all logic.

I kneeled in front of the toilet bowl and immediately the crashing waves of sickness came over me. It wasn't my body that was sick, it was my mind. I had to vomit up the evil bile and wicked cruelty that was inside me. I spewed up a gigantic load of that nights spaggetti, which in my twisted state of mind I perceived to be my intestines. Laughable now, thinking back on how quickly my rationality disappeared, replaced by a complete knowledge and faith in absurdity. That being said, it fucking sucked when it was happening.

The most ridiculous of all my behaviours that night was convincing myself that there was an invisible button on my stomach, that if touched, would cause me to vomit uncontrollably. So much so did my brain decide this was fact, psychosomatically, that I touched the 'button', and yes, spewed a bucket full!

Since that day I have had similar instances where the feeling occurs. Uneasiness, anxiety, heart rate, panic, nausia, agony.

I still don't believe its the wickedness of weed that caused all this to happen. My current belief is that the problem arises with the uncertainty of having the weed in the first place. Whether the toking, the exhalation, or the minutes following, a seed is planted (or perhaps, a seed sprouts) and begins to exacerbate even the tiniest of discrepancies I may be feeling.

The only thing I can really say in avoiding these negative situations is to not get in over my head. Drug use is excellent at its own pace. Not smoking more than I needs, and not smoking when at all uncertain.

Exp Year: 2008	ExpID: 73594
Gender: Male
Age at time of experience: 16
Published: Nov 14, 2016	Views: 1,605
[ View PDF (to print) ] [ View LaTeX (for geeks) ] [ Swap Dark/Light ]
Cannabis (1) : Alone (16), Difficult Experiences (5), Retrospective / Summary (11)