I accidentally ate an edible, and one year on my nervous system still hasn’t recovered

“The little candies were nicely wrapped in paper and looked like old-fashioned lollies. While eating them I thought, ‘That’s the worst-tasting candy I’ve ever had’.”

This week marks the one-year anniversary of my first full-blown panic attack. The past year has been my most challenging yet, as I’ve dealt with the symptoms of an out-of-whack nervous system. The night I was rushed to the hospital because I thought I was dying was my boyfriend’s birthday. During this day of celebrations, I unknowingly consumed an edible that permanently altered my brain physiology.

I have always had underlying anxiety, but one could say it’s more high-functioning anxiety. I’ve never let my worries get in the way of my work or social life. In fact, it’s helped me be highly organised and detail-oriented. Being somewhat anxious, I’ve never been a good candidate for recreational drugs, in particular cannabis. While it’s been said to temporarily reduce anxiety, it may also worsen anxiety for some people.

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I lived in New York for six years, so I’ve been around many people who consume cannabis and thrive off the stuff – gummies, pens, vaporisers, you name it. For me, it does the opposite. It heightens my anxiety and makes me bug out. Knowing this, I vowed never to touch the stuff again. This is where the nightmare begins. A few days before this life-changing event, I threw a massive party for my boyfriend.

One partygoer was handing out edibles in what they thought was a generous gesture. Two of these candy-like wrapped items were placed into one of the gift bags. My boyfriend has no recollection of any conversation about the candies. A few days later, on his actual birthday, we went out for a fancy lunch, followed by some wine at home and a little ‘treat’ that we found stuffed down the side of the wine gift bag, before heading to bed.

The little candies were nicely wrapped in paper and looked like old-fashioned lollies. While eating them I thought, ‘That’s the worst-tasting candy I’ve ever had’. It wasn’t until a few hours later that I sprung out of bed, having heart palpitations and being completely disoriented. I thought I’d been poisoned, followed by the belief that I was dying. I looked at myself in the mirror, and my face was blue. All the blood had rushed out of my limbs.

I thought, ‘Am I already dead hovering above my body? Is this a heart attack?’. The room was pulsating, my heart was racing, and it felt like I was tripping, because, unknown to me, I was. Later I would learn it wasn’t the fact I was high that brought on the panic attack; it was the sensations in my body that triggered this response.

I asked my boyfriend to call the ambulance as I stumbled down the stairs in my flannelette pyjamas, almost running out onto the street. The ambulance arrived and hooked me up for an ECG, learning I wasn’t having a heart attack but a panic attack. Because I had woken suddenly from my sleep, I started thinking I was dreaming and tried to wake myself up, telling everyone around me that they weren’t there.

I was also experiencing depersonalisation, which is a feeling of detachment from oneself. Having never experienced this sensation before, I thought again that I was dying and leaving my body. I began to panic more, thinking, ‘They don’t know I’m dying’, and begging my boyfriend to ‘Please help me’ as he stroked and cradled me on the floor. One ambulance driver was very dismissive and seemed annoyed by me, saying that, essentially, it was in my head and I wasn’t an urgent case. They reluctantly took me in the ambulance to the hospital, as I refused to be ‘left alone to die’.

I waited in the waiting room with many people who had been there for a long time. One woman was detained in front of me, a man in severe pain groaned, and several homeless people were sleeping nearby. This was not the environment one would like to be in during a state of panic. It just so happened to be the same hospital my boyfriend was born in 40 years ago. Talk about a trip down memory lane.

After a few hours, I still had not calmed down and the stressful environment was making me feel worse. My boyfriend asked the receptionist for something to help, and she handed over a Diazepam. At this point, he mentioned feeling a bit weird too, and I replied, “No, I need you to keep it together”. After twenty minutes, I could feel myself calming down and discharged myself.

It wasn’t until several days later that I realised what had actually happened when a friend commented that they were feeling off from the “weed candies” that were being handed around at the party. When he described what they looked like, my face turned white. At first, I was relieved I wasn’t losing my mind but was instead drugged. I could finally sleep easily, knowing it was an accident and wouldn’t happen again. That was until the panic attacks started to come back.

It turns out that a panic attack rewires your entire nervous system and the neural pathways in your brain. This intense experience has made me super sensitive to sound, noise, bright lights and crowded areas. My anxiety baseline has bumped right up to the point of no return. My brain has created a new pathway that leads straight to anxiety and fear, triggered by bodily sensations.

On the road to recovery

I’ve been seeing a psychologist for the last year, working on a combination of neurofeedback and cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT). She describes it as throwing a pebble in a lake and experiencing the ripple effects of its impact. One year on, I’m still experiencing these ripples and still paying off my ambulance bill because my insurance payment bounced a few days before my joy ride.

The good news is you can rewire your brain and rebuild damaged neural pathways. It just takes a lot of time. Since the first episode, I have become very insular and antisocial, as I struggle to be around people in certain situations. I’m easily overstimulated and need time alone to restore my balance.

It’s hard to explain to people, as they tend to say things like, “You just need to relax more” or “Stop being so stressed”. But it’s more than that. It’s happening on such a deep subconscious level that I can’t always control it, meaning that anxiety and fear seemingly arise from nowhere.

I’ve learnt that I can’t drink much alcohol or that if I go to the movies, I need to sit on the aisle chair (so I can escape). I also can’t dine at noisy restaurants or be in confined spaces. I can no longer watch stressful shows or movies and only drink decaf coffee. Sometimes I get upset that I would never be in this situation if this one mistake never happened.

It’s created a lot of restrictions in my life, but I’m learning to be gentle with myself as I try to recoup. My therapist says I need to do more things that squeeze out my sponge, like getting out in nature, journaling, yoga and calming activities that will reduce my anxiety.

More recently, I’ve been waking up again in the middle of the night, covered in sweat and completely disoriented and panicked; a reminder this will be a long journey to recovery. I’ve learnt some strategies that help me get through it, and having a better understanding of what’s occurring in my body has helped me overcome these sensations. When I feel like I’m about to lose control, I remind myself that it may be uncomfortable but it can’t kill me and will always pass. For those moments when I can’t fight it, I take Diazepam to ease the symptoms.

What people don’t understand about panic disorder is that it isn’t an easy thing to control. It starts with a racing heart, which can be triggered by a memory, a sound, a scent or even caffeine. This racing heart rate sets off alarms in the body, sending you into a state of panic. The physical symptoms can be intense, like shortness of breath, heart palpitations, sweating, disorientation, tingling, trembling, chills and blood rushing to your fingers and toes.

They are extremely exhausting as your whole system goes into overdrive, flooding your body with adrenaline and cortisol. Your anxiety also becomes heightened as you anticipate having another one at any moment. In the days following an episode, I’m exhausted.

I have a newfound compassion for people struggling with mental health issues, and I hope that writing about it can help people feel less isolated and alone. If you haven’t had a panic attack, it’s tough to understand what it’s like. I’ve had to set many boundaries with people and listen to what I need in every situation to ensure I can cope. Sometimes I feel like a loner, but my psychologist reminds me it’s a normal reaction to withdraw to rebalance your nervous system. It’s okay to be selfish. Focus on your needs and what makes you feel good; remember, it will pass.

For those struggling with panic attacks, my psychologist friend put me on to Therapy in a Nutshell, a free YouTube channel. Seeking professional help is also essential in this recovery journey, so make sure you seek out the support you need.

This article was originally published on March 3, 2023.

If you or someone you know is struggling with their mental health, you can contact Lifeline on 13 11 14.