07.19.2016
women

Maybe the Drugs Are Working: CBD, Klonopin, Everything Else

The THC-induced panic attack as key to enlightenment.


I’ve been experiencing a lot of anger lately. I feel like a gremlin.

There’s been no particular trigger. It might just be that 30 years of tongue-biting and feigned smiles have finally caught up with me. I’ve been resenting everyone and everything, especially myself. I’ve gotta make some changes.

I don’t like being like this.

A couple weeks ago, I couldn’t fall asleep. With every passing hour, I grew more and more enraged. Angry that I couldn’t sleep, angry that I had to work at 7:00 a.m. the next day, angry that my boyfriend seemed to have no trouble sleeping while there I writhed. At 4:00 a.m., I gave up on the labored pranayama that did nothing other than dry out my nostrils and took half a Klonopin. In my exhausted, hot-headed hallucinatory state, the pill took on the qualities of a California Raisin.

I was able to get some sleep, but the next day my body felt filled with static. My limbs were lodged into each one of their sockets so tightly I fantasized about medieval torture devices. My deep breaths didn’t seem to include oxygen absorption. I grew convinced that I had chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. I either needed a cigarette to kill myself faster or a massage. I went for the massage.

Realizing I was on the brink of an emotional breakdown, I knew it was time to look within. I went and bought a book by renowned Buddhist teacher, Jack Kornfield. I was in dire need of expert advice. Supposedly he was one of the best in the Westernized-Buddhist self-help biz.

The book gave me a little hope but wasn’t gonna work quickly enough. I needed a place to tune out and meditate. A place with no dust bunnies on the floor, no pomeranians or fresh mozzarella or chianti or handsome boyfriends to distract me. So I went to a yoga class. And then I spent $100 on a new mat because the rental mats looked caked in athlete’s foot.

I spent most of the class regretting my outfit of choice. I worried that my pubes were showing. I found myself back at home, out of Klonopin, with my anger transforming into a tired sadness. Then I remembered the 100 percent CBD I had saved for absolute special occasions.

As I waited for the pill to sink in, for my spirit to lift and my heart to brighten, I began to feel a little strange.

1:1 CBD to THC ratio is too much for me, especially when I'm unprepared for it. Panic set in. I experienced a flip-book style montage of anxiety-provoking thoughts.

I relived every time I was flippant over the death of a friend's grandparent.

I ruminated over every dollar I’d wasted in the past month on disappointing meals.

…and then the seemingly endless grand finale of uncomfortable conversations I’ve had, have yet to have, and have had but only in my mind.

There's nothing like getting too stoned to remind myself of all the things I forgot to process...

…and what can I say - the next day I felt a little lighter, a little brighter, a little better.

THE END.

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