My Grandma Got Me High & I Quit My Job
An unbelievably true story
It’s embarrassing, but it’s true.
My grandma got me high and I quit my job.
Here’s how it went down…
My grandma and I were driving back from dinner on a Friday night when she decided to stop by one of those CBD stores to pick up some gummies. She uses them to help her sleep at night — no judgment here.
I had never been inside a CBD shop (they are popping up everywhere these days) and was anxious to see what it was like.
We walk in and it smells like a hospital mixed with a florist (not great), and it looks like a converted Sunday (the sandwich shop), although they have an assortment of CBD products instead of cold cuts. And the longer you’re in there, the more guilty you feel.
There was an older man working the counter, clearly a carryover from the hippie generation. Shaggy beard, tie-dye bandana. We talked for a bit as I tried to understand more about their business. My grandma picked up her gummies, and as she was checking out, the clerk offered me a free sample. It was some caramel candy cube.
“Take one of these and you’ll sleep like a baby.”
Um, okay. Taking candy from strangers? Why not…
That night, I followed his instructions. Cut the caramel in half and consume before bed. It was 10:30 at night, and I waited for some calming or relaxing effect.
Nothing.
I fell asleep thinking it was a waste. I would probably throw the other half away because it didn’t do anything. Whatever… no harm, no foul.
Until…
I wake up at 3 a.m.
I feel disoriented. I have a huge headache and need to pee.
So I stumble towards the bathroom, take a piss, and the next thing I knew, my head was resting on the backside of the toilet.
“That’s strange.” I wonder.
I then stumble back towards my room and look at myself in the mirror, horrified by what I see.
I was white as a ghost! To this day, I’m not sure if it was some sort of trippy hallucination or fact, but I looked paler than Joe Biden on a debate stage.
I attempt to get back into bed but realize that I don’t even have enough energy to do that, so I just sit on the floor. That’s when I noticed the blood.
There is blood running down my leg. Where the heck did that come from?!?
Apparently, I had passed out while peeing and gashed my leg hard enough to bleed!
(I later realized I had another gash on my head)
At this point, I know it’s serious. Something is happening and I need to get my act together. I don’t want to die.
I go downstairs, counting to myself (to stay awake) and gripping the banister as to avoid falling to my demise.
As I walk into the kitchen, I notice that my field of vision is narrowing. I am going blind.
Or so I think.
At the same time, I notice a loud roar. It’s like being in a cave with an airplane engine running.
I’m losing my senses.
It’s at this point that I’m in full-blown panic mode.
And a couple of thoughts pass through my mind:
1) “I think I might be dying.”
2) “I wish I had quit my job sooner.”
You see, I had been working at a large company for over two years (not a long time, I’ll admit). But I knew in my core that it wasn’t a good long-term fit. Spending hours perfecting PowerPoints was not my idea of a fulfilling career. Waking up every day without purpose can only be tolerated for so long.
Sure, I could stick it out for a few more years, but I really didn’t want to waste my life doing something I didn’t enjoy.
And now here I was dying on my kitchen floor realizing that I had done just that. I had spent the final season of my life doing something I despised, living a life that wasn’t for me.
So as I think I am in my final minutes and my vision is waning, I make a few emergency phone calls to family until I get my grandma to answer. She is so confused as to why I am waking her with a 4 a.m. phone call.
She comes over, and I sit at the kitchen table drinking bottles of water for the next two hours until the drug makes its way out of my system. All the while my grandma can’t stop laughing about what has taken place.
I’m still not quite sure what I took… THC, Delta-8, Delta-9… or why the reaction was so violent. Probably not a good idea to ingest unmarked items from strangers, so lesson learned.
As I sober up through the day, I still can’t shake what happened. I genuinely feared for my life, and the last thoughts to pass my mind were about quitting my job.
I knew what I had to do.
It took a few months to tidy things up at the office and prep for the transition. But I did quit my job and hardly anyone noticed. The world goes on.
The world will not encourage you to chase your dreams. You have to make your own path and follow your instincts.
Sure, maybe it’s a dead end, but at least you’ll have no regrets.
I know I don’t.
