From casual use to a mental health crisis
Like many young people, I started using cannabis as a safer, more accessible alternative to alcohol. It wasn’t about rebellion or heavy experimentation; it was about fitting in, social ease, and the belief that weed was “natural” and harmless. I was a university student, a Londoner away at Oxford, and the drug quickly shifted from a party accessory to a daily habit. What seemed like a casual escape soon became a lifeline that carried with it a darker, insidious undercurrent: a creeping anxiety, a fog of intrusive thoughts, and a frightening sense of losing control.
The social trap of an easy high
In the early days, cannabis simply amplified social ease. I found myself drawn to a shared bubble of marijuana smoke, junk food, and late-night films in a grubby flat. It felt cool and sophisticated, a marker of adulthood that I wrongly equated with safety. I didn’t know what was in the weed, or how it could interact with my brain, stress, and sleep. The drug became a shortcut to friendship, and I ignored warning signs that something deeper could be brewing beneath the surface.
When the workload and stress collide
As term pressure mounted after Christmas, I realized I’d over-committed to activities, including a play I couldn’t back out of. The relationship that had formed around the drug grew suffocating, and my emotional stability began to crumble. Cannabis, rather than soothing the stress, started to magnify it. Unsettling thoughts emerged, and soon I faced panic attacks: the room tilting, my chest tightening, palms sweating. The fear intensified during lonely walks home from rehearsals, as if danger lurked just beyond the streetlights.
How a single night changed everything
A turning point came one night after a heated argument with my partner. I returned to my room convinced I had harmed him, and when there was no reply, I read the worst possible signal into a silent phone. In that moment, terror overtook me, and I called the Samaritans. Their calm, steady voice helped me survive the night, but the aftermath was a long reckoning with my own mental health. I sought help from college tutors and took time away to recuperate. It was a painful, quiet admission of a crisis that I had tried to minimize.
Cannabis psychosis and the lingering risks
The episode revealed a hard truth: cannabis can precipitate psychosis, especially among young people whose brains are still developing. The pattern I witnessed around me—friends who used heavily and then faced severe mental health outcomes—was a stark reminder that “natural” doesn’t mean safe. For me, the experience left lingering intrusive thoughts and a wary relationship with alcohol and drugs that persists to this day. It’s not about demonizing cannabis entirely, but about acknowledging the risks, particularly for the young and vulnerable.
Why education and awareness matter
Hearing about public campaigns that counter cannabis lobbying makes sense when you’ve lived through the consequences. Education should spell out not only the potential dangers but also the signs of danger: debilitating anxiety, persistent paranoia, intrusive thoughts, or any sense of losing control. Early intervention can prevent a descent into a full-blown crisis. If you’re a student or a parent, it’s crucial to have open conversations about safety, consent, and mental health—before a casual joint becomes a damaging life event.
Looking ahead: a cautious stance and ongoing lessons
Since that period, I’ve limited my intake, rarely drink, and continue to monitor my mental health with professional support. The memory of that Oxford experience remains a powerful reminder of the fragility of the mind and the importance of seeking help early. My story is not universal, but it does underline a need for thoughtful discourse about cannabis—especially for young people navigating exams, new friendships, and identity formation.
A call for informed choices
To those facing similar pressures, know that you are not alone, and help is available. If you’re worried about cannabis use or mental health symptoms, reach out to a healthcare professional, counselor, or student support service. Education, early intervention, and compassionate guidance can prevent a crisis from unfolding and help you regain control of your life.
