I Lived Off Edibles for a Weekend and Lost My Damned Mind

Researching the type of cleanse I wanted, I found it didn't exist. Most so-called cannabis cleanses are designed to remove marijuana from the system, not integrate it holistically to benefit your health. After digging online the most appealing one I could find was Coming Clean With Cannabis: A New Kind of Cannabis Cleanse, an ebook from designer Kristen Williams and marijuana entrepreneur Jane West, the founder and chairwoman of Women Grow. Technically, the book is designed to wean people off alcohol using cannabis, but I also found that it's a great template for those who want to find healthy ways to incorporate cannabis into their lifestyles, like me.

I already know about all the psychoactive benefits of cannabis. I wanted to learn more about how marijuana could help me in other ways, besides making me hyper or dreamy. For instance, the book discusses "the entourage effect," which means that, when used medicinally, cannabis is better when all of its individual compounds—both psychoactive and non-psychoactive—work together. I was intrigued with this whole-plant approach to incorporating weed into a broader lifestyle; I hoped to a way to use marijuana not to just get high, but to help relieve pain, stress, anxiety, and whatever else ails me.

In California, most medical marijuana dispensaries are pharmacies in name only. I've certainly never been to a regular pharmacy with black walls, glow-in-the-dark art, loud music, and college-aged "budtenders" who only take cash and wear headsets.

When I asked what would help with headaches, they really, really recommended eating a tiny square of an expensive chocolate bar made with top-shelf cannabis butter. When I asked what to use for cramps, they recommended coating my tampon with weed lube. While they were trying to be helpful, the stoned budtenders and the pharmacy environment itself served as constant reminders that marijuana is still mostly being used recreationally. It was evident that if I was going to use marijuana medicinally, I would need to figure out how to on my own.

I told myself that for three days, I'd only eat healthy foods and cannabis edibles, drink lots of water, and eschew all other prescription medicines and over-the-counter drugs. If I was anxious or unable to sleep, I'd make some tea with a dropper full of indica tincture. If I was tired or needed to focus, I'd eat a baked good made with sativa. If any part of me ached, I'd use a cannabis-based topical salve. And—as it turned out to be the case—if I was suffering from major menstrual cramps, I'd use vaginal suppositories specifically designed to alleviate my symptoms.

I woke up and drank a big glass of cold brew coffee, because there's no way I'm ever giving up caffeine. I ate half of the lowest-dose edible I could buy at the pharmacy: a Rice Krispies-type confection made with cannabis butter, an unidentified "rice and fruit" cereal, and marshmallow. I honestly can't remember what happened the rest of the day, but I do know I wasn't very productive. I think I walked my dog to the groomer, maybe.

I woke up, drank coffee, and ate half of yet another edible: this time, a chocolate-chip cookie with cannabis butter. Despite the fact that it was ostensibly the exact same strain and dose as the fake Rice Krispies treat I had the day before, I was much more alert and productive, if for no other reason than the fact that I constantly needed to change tampons because I got my fucking period.

Around 3 PM I started to get a headache, so I followed the budtender's advice and ate a square of the expensive chocolate bar. Two hours later, I still didn't feel anything except my cramps, so I went to another medical marijuana pharmacy that stocked the Foria Relief vaginal suppositories. With all the glowing reviews, I couldn't wait to shove the cocoa butter and THC panacea into the self-flushing war zone that was my uterus. I tried it twice; both times, the suppositories melted and slid out.

I still didn't really feel anything psychoactive, and given the parameters of my experiment, I wasn't expecting to. But I also didn't feel any better physically: my head continued to throb and my uterus still felt like a really bad upset stomach. I also started to get a little anxious, so I made some chai tea with a dropper of THC and another dropper of Cannabidiol (CBD) oil. CBD is the main non-psychoactive compound of cannabis, so it does not get you high. Still, nothing.

My cramps and headache were getting the best of me, and cannabis wasn't helping. I ate another small square of the chocolate bar, because I still wasn't feeling anything from the marijuana at all, psychoactive or otherwise. My husband was laughing.

We usually go to sleep at the same time, but the second and last night of my cleanse, my husband went to sleep hours before me. His soft-though-persistent snoring led me to put earplugs in my ears, and that's when I started tripping, literally.

I kept having the urge to pee, and my kneading cramps and heavy flow meant repeated journeys to the bathroom in the dark, stepping over dirty laundry. I may or may not have been wearing earplugs in my ears. Fuck, what if I put my suppositories in my ears by accident? (I knew I didn't because my underwear smelled like cocoa butter, but still, what if?)

On the way back to bed, I twisted my ankle, stumbled, and knocked my knee into the corner of the wooden platform frame. Then I landed on my right thigh with a giant thud. My husband woke up while I took the earplugs out of my ears. Or was I putting them in? Worriedly, he asked if I was OK.

"I fell," I said with zero emotion, looking at what appeared to be a new limb growing out of my skin.

He turned on the lights and we both examined the quickly growing goose egg on my knee, and the bruises taking form on my ankle and thigh. Thankfully I was OK, even though part of me feels that I almost died.

I turned on the light. My husband had fallen asleep once more, but while my body was exhausted and aching, my mind was still reeling. I was in that liminal space where I couldn't tell if I was asleep or awake, if I was dreaming or hallucinating. We're all on different planes at different frequencies, going up and down different states of consciousness, like in invisible elevators.

I closed my eyes, saw my own skull, and observed an endless loop of heady, psychedelic, disturbing, and encouraging themes taking shape beneath my eyelids. I was myself, I would always come back to myself. But who am I? Has anyone ever died from a marijuana overdose? Will I be the first? Is that what I'm supposed to do with my life?

I couldn't believe I still had an entire day of this shit to deal with, again. My head pounded after a nightmarish evening in which I wasn't even sure I had the chance to sleep. Pain pierced through my skull like some kind of imaginary unicorn's horn, letting loose a string of vivid images that didn't make much sense—and I hadn't even had any marijuana yet. Or was I still high? It was impossible to tell. Against the principles of my own self-crafted cleanse, I took three low-dose aspirin tablets with my coffee, ate some granola, swallowed my multivitamins, and waited for the day to begin.

With the exception of the THC relief balm for my aching leg, I decided only to use non-psychoactive CBD on what was thankfully the last day of my bullshit cannabis cleanse. It was the weekend, but I still wanted to find a way to be somewhat productive and show the promises of this Great Herb.

Instead, I learned something very important: there is no real safe, effective cannabis cleanse. Only you know how to use marijuana and how it works for you. Personally, I've had very different experiences ingesting the exact same plant. This is what I think is the problem with medical marijuana: its benefits are clear but unpredictable. People frequenting dispensaries in California are probably not going to get much in the way of consistency, even if they think they are. It all depends on one's state of mind in the end. I know, because I finally just ate the other half of my edible from day one, and this time I don't feel anything.