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Losing My Mind
Cannabis
by Hamster
Citation:   Hamster. "Losing My Mind: An Experience with Cannabis (exp54760)". Erowid.org. Mar 25, 2009. erowid.org/exp/54760

 
DOSE:
4 hits smoked Cannabis (plant material)

BODY WEIGHT: 57 kg


I only smoked cannabis once but it was such a negative experience that it still affects me now, 7 years later. For years after the experience, I suffered from acute anxiety and panic attacks that caused me to nearly become housebound. I suffered from paranoid thoughts, mostly to do with poisoning or drugging in my food or drink. I was obsessed with the idea that I was Schizophrenic or developing Schizophrenia. I could no longer trust my perceptions, in particular of sounds and my eyesight. I noticed every little detail such as the TV picture jumping or strange sounds and wasn't sure if this was just my imagination. I felt completely isolated in a way I never knew was possible, psychologically and emotionally unreachable. However, I researched my condition, had a small amount of counselling and now I feel that I am 99% healed.

The day after I smoked, I wrote down my experience:

We load up the pipe. Sarahís sitting on my toilet in my room at University and Iím on the floor. ďThis isnít working,Ē I complain. We keep smoking. I feel totally normal apart from the fact that Sarah looks really odd from down here, like a hamster with huge cheeks.

ďOh well,Ē she says, ďBetter luck next time mateĒ. I laugh. But then her head looks really huge, like itís behind a magnifying glass or on a TV screen. Help. Is this a dream? Somethingís wrong so I get up. Sarah asks whatís up, and I canít tell if she feels the same so I ask her. She tells me she doesnít and asks how I feel? Thereís a hot feeling at the back of my neck, Iím fading in and out of reality like a messed-up dream and everything is fragmented like pixalised squares going in and out of focus.

Sarahís lying to me, how can she not feel the same as me? Iím repeating myself and I know this is beyond my control, Iíve got to get out but I canít tell if the room is clear enough to open the door without setting off the smoke alarm. Sarah will know. She says itís too smoky but I canít tell if sheís lying. Then she says Iíve fallen over and cracked my head on the sink and itís bleeding everywhere. So thatís why I feel so odd. Iíve left my body and Iím unconscious. Sarah puts her hands on the back of my neck and asks me canít I feel it? Although I know itís her hands, I know itís only her hands whilst Iím unconscious and that in reality what I can feel all warm on the back of my head is my own blood. But although I know I am on the floor unconscious, I also know that she is lying, but then again I canít work out if she really is lying or if Iím unconscious and itís at this point that I realise I am going to believe everything she says, so I beg her not to say anything else bad. For the rest of the trip I feel like I am in a dual reality, separated from my body.

I need to phone somebody.

I phone my Dad, ďIíve smoked too much weed and I canít tell whatís real and whatís a dreamĒ. His response will be vital, he is the only element of truth and rationality apart from Sarah, but she keeps lying.

ďWell you canít tell anyway,Ē he says.

Everything goes messed-up and hazy Ė it must be a dream or he would have made sense. Iím really scared now.

ďHow long will before this goes away, Dad?Ē

ďA few hoursĒ.

He tells me that weed is much more speedy than solids and I wonder if my heart is beating really fast so I ask him and he says ďIt shouldnít do,Ē but he thought for too long so I can tell heís part of the conspiracy and heís lying too. Dad tells me that if I canít cope with a little bit of dope then I should never drop any acid. I then start to wonder if maybe someone laced the weed with acid as this is only meant to be a ďlittle bit of dopeĒ but it feels like a huge load of something nasty.

I want to go to sleep but Iíve realised that what nobody else knows is that the weed has triggered off schizophrenia and Iím going to be like this forever. The only way I can escape is to kill myself but I donít want to do that. I need air. I can only go if Sarah will let me, so I pretend Iím normal so she will take me and she does. We start walking but I realise I canít remember how I got to the end of the road so I must still be in bed, but then I know Iím not so I say weíd better go back. Iím scared Iím going to fall over. I think about the knife in my kitchen and I know that Sarah is going to ask me to kill myself and I wonít be able to say no because sheís my only link to reality.

We get back and I need the toilet. I canít tell if my thoughts are really in my head or if Sarah can hear them and I look at her and I can tell sheís pretending she canít hear
what Iím thinking but I know she can.

Sarah says she needs to go to her room and goes outside. I hear a blokeís voice saying ďIs this her first time?Ē and I know that Sarah has gone and got some paramedics or drugs counsellor or something. I look outside for the ambulance but thereís nobody there. Itís because theyíre hiding. Sarah comes back. Thereís someone with her, I look in the corridor and ask: ďwhoíve you brought with you?Ē

ďNobody,Ē she lies.

I canít see anybody but thatís because theyíre hiding, so I pretend I believe her. Theyíve told her how to act so I wonít freak out. She sits and offers me a biscuit. ďNo thanksĒ. But she keeps asking me so I know I mustnít eat one. How come sheís so calm? When are the authorities going to come and take me away? Maybe Iím in some psychotherapistís office and there are people trying to bring me back to reality. I need sleep. I want Sarah to stay so Iíll be safe but she says she needs to sleep in her own room. She says sheíll leave her door open and mine so it will be okay. But Iím scared theyíre going to get me. I agree, however, in case I choke on my tongue or something.

Iím alone and I know if I donít go to sleep I will never get back to reality, but I canít sleep. My rational mind starts to tell me that itís okay, itís just drugs and Iíll be okay in a few hours, but I know itís part of the conspiracy and is lying and that what it and nobody else realises is that this is no ordinary trip. Iíve gone schizophrenic.

I can feel a burning in my lungs and I realise that thereís a lump of weed resin stuck all along my windpipe and Iím never going to recover because every time I breathe, I breathe more weed. I need to drink some water but the glass is near my knife and Iím scared I might cut my wrists. I control this long enough to get water.

I go to the toilet but when I get up to flush the loo, thereís a bit of weed floating in the water, and I think: ďOh my God, itís fallen out of me! Iím full of weed!Ē

I try to go back to sleep. But I keep on needing the toilet and every time I go I canít tell if Iím on the toilet or if Iím really in bed still. Also I canít tell if this is the same as last time and I feel stuck in a never-ending cycle of going to the toilet. Every now and then I see a glimpse of reality and I know I havenít lost it completely and that it will come back. I feel that if I accept that I am not afraid of dying then this experience wonít be so scary, so I say Iím not afraid and actually itís alright to be unconscious on the bathroom floor and dying. But then Iím still terrified.

Reality starts coming back in larger pieces and I try really hard to hold onto it. I know Iím going to be okay but my irrational mind still thinks Iím crazy and that Iíll be like this forever.

Eventually I fall asleep and in the morning when I wake up things seem relatively normal. Except that for about a week, I canít quite tell if people are telling the truth about totally normal, innocent things.

Exp Year: 1999ExpID: 54760
Gender: Female 
Age at time of experience: Not Given 
Published: Mar 25, 2009Views: 11,449
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Cannabis (1) : Hangover / Days After (46), Post Trip Problems (8), Bad Trips (6), Small Group (2-9) (17)

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Experience Reports are the writings and opinions of the individual authors who submit them.
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