Weed and Paranoia

I  looked down from the top of the ferris wheel and my father was looking up at me. I was sure he could tell. Even from that distance I was sure. I did not want the ride to end. He knew I was wasted – he knew!

We were on vacation in Nova Scotia, and at the Field Day celebrations in Waterville. I had just been introduced to weed, smoking a joint of “Colombian” with my cousin who coached me to hold it in as long as I could and how to hold it when the joint got short.

It came about simply enough:

“Want to smoke a joint with me?”
“Sure.”

That was it. We went into the woods and when we came out I felt amazing! I didn’t care about anything anymore. I really liked the feeling and was grinning so wide my face hurt.

Saying no didn’t occur to me. I wasn’t really sure what smoking drugs was all about. Never really had any idea what being ‘high’ really meant. I was, after all, only eleven years old.

Once we got back to the fair grounds my good feeling changed. Paranoia hit me like a hammer and I was convinced that it was obvious to the entire world that I was high. How could it not be obvious? I was spinning. I was wacked! Then came the ferris wheel and I prayed that it would go around just one more time. I did not want to get off and have to talk to my parents. I didn’t want to have to talk to anyone!

The ride ended, and I joined my family. We walked together through the grounds, alarms sounding in my head but everyone acted normal. No one asked me any questions. There was no “What’s wrong with you?” no strange looks, nothing. I could not believe that I could be this high, in this state, and no one even noticed! The paranoia eased to just below the panic level and I hoped that the high would wear off quickly. Of course it didn’t – I felt like I was high for ages. But I got away with it.

Of course when I got away with something I had to do it again. For the rest of the summer I hung out with older teens as much as I could and smoked up whenever I could. No one noticed so I kept smoking. Weed, hash and oil and I didn’t care which. It was the beginning of a new method of escape for me. The lead ball of fear in my stomach would actually dissipate. The raw paranoia I often felt when high was better than how I felt straight.

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