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Bad Trips, After Effects and Habitual Use

An unbiased look.

This article will attempt to give information about the percentage that have reported negative effects from Cannabis use.

From Erowid:
I then sat down back on my chair. I remember feeling my heart beat and pound really fast in my chest. I thought that this was not a good sign and maybe I had taken way too much. As soon as I started thinking that my heart began to beat even faster. I was now sure I was heading for a heart attack. I entered into this extremely frightening state of depersonalization and derealization where everything in front of me looked small and I felt very small. It felt like the room was closing up on me. I then felt like I was expanding and was trapped in my room. I was thinking so this is what a bad trip is like. I was convinced I was going to die and that my parents would find me dead from an overdose on drugs. I then began to feel guilty and depressed. I could almost literally feel the thoughts moving through my head.

From Erowid:
I gave up smoking marijuana about 6 months ago because (even after extremely heaving pot smoking for 5 years) I began getting feelings of disassociation and anxiety.

After this I was unable to leave the house anymore other than for work. I can't drive anywhere anymore. I felt extremely self-conscious and panicked in public and any kind of social situation or even just checking the letter box. I lost interest in just about everything. I suffered from constant anxiety and hypervigilance. I had outbursts of anger at the slightest annoying noise (such as someone coughing).

From Erowid:
At face value, many people reading this may think that this sounds like heaven, apart from the mental illness. Smoking some of the best pot in the world, being able to smoke relatively freely, and living the classic life of the bohemian who’s able to think and act as he chooses. But there is a dark side to this colourful and euphoric land of self-indulgence. When the come-down comes, depression hits hard and fast, making it a short matter of time before I have to think about my options for my next smoke. And I’m not just depressed because I’m naturally prone to it. I’m depressed because I’m constantly unemployed, and too stoned to go out and look for anything meaningful and fulfilling. I’m depressed because my love-life is always secondary to my love for Mary Jane. I’m depressed because I live in a filthy flat which I’m too high to ever clean, to ever adequately illuminate, or to leave for something new. I’m frozen in time. I’m a sketched-out mess; constantly confused and unable to remember simple details and matters relating to short term memory. What I do remember is often inaccurate and sometimes never happened at all. I live in a dream. Social relationships are almost impossibility, and the drug that many equate with peace and love has brought only paranoia and selfishness into my relationships with other regular pot smokers.


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