Betty Dodson with Carlin Ross

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Nothing like Christmas to bring on another guilt-trippy panic attack.

Christmas and drugs, that is.

I should have guessed that the mysterious cookie someone left in my room on Christmas morning was suspicious. But when I woke up from my post-brunch nap and saw it sitting on the lid of my laptop, I couldn't help it. I was just too curious. Was it good? Was it stale? It looked handmade, but who made it?

I realized my mistake after the first bite. In fact it was my only bite. I could tell the moment it hit my tongue what kind of cookie this was. It was a weed cookie. Since I'd only taken a small bite I decided to swallow it and just deal with the effects. Surely they would be mild, if anything dinner would probably taste better and I would be feeling more socially in tune with my family.

So, I go downstairs, start preparing the Brussels sprouts my dad requested, pop them in the oven, and sit down to have a chat with my brother. He's just admitted to my parents that yes, he has in fact dropped out of school. He's drinking a beer, looks totally sheepish and awkward. Pretty usual behaviour for him lately. I set my new Sony eReader down on the table, a present from FG, and he starts asking questions about it. How much? Where'd you get it? Why is there no backlight on this thing?

I lie, say it was refurbished off eBay, cost around $200, tell him he should look into getting the pocket version. I hate lying to my brother but my dad's in the next room. I have no choice.

Soon my sisters come in and seat themselves around the table. Eventually dinner's ready and my dad is taking things out of the oven and my mum is getting utensils.

Holy. Fuck. Am I ever stoned. All of a sudden everything slows down. Everyone's talking weird. All I can hear is the clanging of utensils in the next room. It seems like she's been digging in that drawer for 10 minutes. It's probably been 10 seconds.

My stomach drops. Is there any way I can get out of this? Can I pretend I'm feeling nauseous? Sleepy? No, they think I have an eating disorder for some reason, this would just prove their suspicions right. I guess I'll have to battle through the next hour, pretending to be normal. Which I can never do when I'm high, the moment I feel THC in my bloodstream is usually the moment I retreat to my room and watch SpongeBob Squarepants or something equally cheery.

Why? Because things like this happen: I panic. I have no appetite at all. I'm incredibly paranoid. How did one bite get me this stoned? My brother gets up from the dinner table before the food comes out to go pet the dog. I follow him into the foyer.

"You could have warned me!" I hiss, but he doesn't hear. He's probably stoned as well, maybe even a little drunk. I sit back down feeling completely suspicious. Surely everyone can tell. I feel like I'm being totally obvious.

Food starts getting served, I take as little as I can get away with: two spoonfuls of mashed potatoes and some carrots and Brussels sprouts. The stuffing looks too revolting to even consider. And I don't eat turkey so at least I'm off the hook there. If anyone asks, I'll tell them I ruined my appetite with candy.

My dad looks at my brother. "So, does anyone have any family announcements?"

Everyone pretends they don't hear him, or maybe they really don't, but my mind starts positively whizzing. I have an announcement: I'm gay! I'm stoned! This eReader was a gift from a 40-something American guy I've never met! It was more than $200! He knows this address. And sends me cash for getting naked on webcam. Those mysterious packages that come are almost always SEX TOYS. Which I USE. I want to quit my horrible job and become a porn star. I've been emailing escorts - that's right mom, real hookers - and random people on kijiji about hooking up for NSA sex. I might meet one of these escorts. I want to move to London so I can have my privacy back and set a stripper pole up in my room and go nuts with whoever I want whenever I want and never feel guilty again.

Somehow I survive dinner without saying any of these things. I pretty much stay quiet which is normal for me. When dinner is over I try to stay on the main floor and watch Red Eye with my sisters so I don't seem suspicious but I can't handle it. I feel like they can see my high-ness, so I sneak upstairs and have a panic attack on the internet talking to my friend J about what a horrible child I am, doing such perverted things in my parents house and keeping it a secret.

She assures me I'm not perverted, crazy, or a horrible person. In fact I'm quite normal. I remind myself every choice I've made in the last few months has been deliberate, and in the bright, clear light of sobriety. I haven't been stoned or drunk in weeks, maybe months. And I haven't been THIS stoned since college.
I was tripping balls for two hours and had a horrible zombifying high-over this morning when I had to get up for work. In fact I felt dead my entire shift... I need a new job.

For a while I was angry at my brother for not telling me about the cookie, or how freaking strong that thing was (imagine if I ate it all!) but eventually when I started coming down I realized, what else can I expect? He smokes pot pretty much every day. This is the guy that thinks there's no such thing as getting too high (there definitely is). And his brain chemistry is probably so fucked from such long-term use that he needs more and more and can't function without it. I try not to judge or meddle in his life, but maybe he needs some tough love/intervening after all.

All I know for sure is, HOLY FUCK no more drugs for me, thanks. At least not for a looong time. I haven't had a guilt attack of that magnitude since the summer. Sobriety is definitely a lot more fun.