Does Weed Help With Anxiety? I Tried It Out.
Part One of my half-baked attempt to manage my stress.
Last week, I shared the story of my lifelong battle with anxiety. In this very special edition of Jon’s Anxiety Project, I will recount my experience trying one anxiety buster so many rave about — cannabis, or weed, or pot, or the The Devil’s Lettuce, or whatever you call it. If you want a good laugh, look at this list of marijuana nicknames DEA Intelligence shared with its officers.
Some say cannabis is a gateway drug. For me, it’s more like a gated community inhabited by passionate fans who swear by its miraculous effects. They’re so convinced by the power of the plant that they can’t imagine anyone else wouldn’t experience it the same way.
I was 16 years old the first time I ever tried pot. Some high school friends and I sampled a joint outside Nathan’s Famous restaurant in Yonkers. This was the 80s, and arcades filled with games like Asteroids and Space Invaders were a thing. Someone pulled out a poorly rolled heap of seedy, putrid pot. We took turns smoking it in the parking lot. Then we went into the arcade.
I must have had a delayed reaction because, in the middle of level 3 of Galaga, I began to get short of breath, my mouth went dry, and my hands shook. This was a long time ago, and I still remember how I felt, but I don’t remember how I reacted. Recently, I called my good friend Mark, who has the equivalent of 4TB memory. He filled in the gaps.
“You were a wreck,” he said. “You ran outside into the parking lot, and you were pacing back and forth, fluttering your arms, saying you needed to go the hospital. We assured you you were just really high and finally got you to calm down with a large soda and plate of fried clams.”
Mark said what he remembers the most is how angry I was at myself for letting it happen. “You kept saying, ‘Why did I do this? I don’t want to feel this way. How could I be so stupid?’”
Even under the influence of cannabis, I was anxious about being anxious.
Not a cannaseur
From that day on, I could count the times I’ve truly enjoyed being high on one hand. But here’s the rub: For years, I was editor-in-chief of a magazine and website called Green Entrepreneur that covered the inner workings of the cannabis industry. Green Entrepreneur was unabashedly pro-cannabis, bullish on the business, the culture, the politics, and the health benefits of the plant. The more I spoke about cannabis with entrepreneurs, patients, consumers, and health professionals, the more I developed an unlikely personal interest in it. The gates were opened. I just wasn’t sure I wanted to enter.
Cannabis is personal
I interviewed countless entrepreneurs who claimed to be in the cannabis business because weed changed their life. Weed helped them (or those they love) with pain, insomnia, PTSD, seizures, depression, and, yes, anxiety.
One entrepreneur I interviewed told me that before he discovered marijuana, he was so crippled by panic attacks that he was afraid to drive a car.
But the effects of cannabis on anxiety aren’t just anecdotal. Some notable studies reveal that cannabis can reduce anxiety. In 2020, researchers at Washington State University tracked 400 medical cannabis users. They found that 58 percent reported a reduction in anxiety after taking two puffs of cannabis with THC—that’s the psychoactive compound that causes the high feeling.
According to a 2012 study from King’s College London, there are over 60 chemical compounds found in the cannabis plant. Tetrahydrocannabinol, or THC, is a primary compound. The other is cannabidiol, better known as CBD. On its own, CBD does not get you high. It’s been used to treat chronic pain, inflammation, depression, and, yes, anxiety. You can find CBD in just about everything—pillows, sports drinks, makeup, toothpaste, and toothpicks.
People high on the benefits of pot love to tell you about the endocannabinoid system (EC), a unique communications system in the brain and the body first discovered in 1992 by chemists in Israel. How it works: When cannabis enters your body, the phytocannabinoids (found in the plant) bind with receptors in the EC system, causing it to produce endogenous cannabinoids or neurochemicals. Depending on what you're consuming, these make you feel high, sleepy, or not anxious.
Still, all this excitement about cannabis helping to reduce anxiety got me curious‚ or cannacurious, as they say in the business. But I wanted to do it right this time, and I wanted it to work. How great would it be if I could just light up a doobie or pop an edible whenever I felt anxious, and everything would be okay? Weed is readily accessible here in LA, it’s natural, not synthetic, and according to medical professionals, it’s not addictive.
Gene therapy
The first person I called was Len May. I first met Len at Jim Belushi’s surprisingly elegant mansion in Bel Air (Jim is a cannabis farmer and runs a cannabis brand called Belushi’s Farm). Len moderated a cannabis roundtable with former professional athletes, discussing how cannabis helped them cope with their bad knees and aching backs.
A dapper man with a shiny bald head, arm tattoos, and a perfectly manicured salt and pepper beard, Len has been in the cannabis field for over 20 years, first as a dispensary owner, then as a researcher for a company called Medicinal Genomics, analyzing cannabis plants from all over the world, extracting their DNA, and sending them to a lab for sequencing. The company used this data to build the first-ever library of cannabis strains with names like Garlic Breath, Camel Toes, and Green Crack.
Len co-founded Endocanna Health, which produces patented DNA testing kits that give users a rundown of everything in their genetic makeup that might cause an adverse or positive reaction to weed. Think of it as the 23andMe of marijuana. For $199, users swab their mouths, send their saliva samples to a lab, and receive a confidential report detailing how their DNA may interact with the 60 cannabinoids found in cannabis. Or if they’ve already used 23andMe or Ancestry, they can upload their data to the site with no test necessary.
But Endocanna Heath doesn’t stop there. The service also provides “a personalized wellness plan” with recommendations on the type of pot you should (and should not) consume based on your genetic predispositions, including the dosage and the method of delivery (i.e., vapes, sublinguals, edibles, etc.), drug to drug interactions, and the efficacy of the recommendation.
For a layman like me, Len’s pitch sounded solid. Why trust the opinion of a so-called budtender at a dispensary when I could let my genes do the talking?
What my DNA says
My DNA home-testing kit contained an oversized Q-tip and a sample collection tube. The kit was eerily reminiscent of Covid-19 tests, but I was grateful to learn that I would not have to shove this swab into the upper reaches of my nasal cavity. I just rubbed it a few times inside my cheek, placed the sample in a biohazard bag, and mailed it in a prepaid box to the lab.
A few weeks later, I received an email informing me that my test results were available on a privacy-secured website. I zoomed with Len, sharing my screen so he could walk me through the findings.
He was mostly silent as we scrolled through the site, but occasionally he would release a surprised “huh” and “interesting.”
“You’re torturing me over here,” I said.
“It’s not exactly what I expected. Let’s put the pieces of the puzzle together.”
The results were divided into a number of categories, such as Anxiety, Cognitive Function, Drug Dependence, Metabolism, Mood, Sleep, THC side effects, and more. Again, the idea was to focus on my genetic predispositions to determine how cannabis interacts with my system.
Here are some interesting things I learned about myself.
I don’t suffer from pot PTSD
A fear memory is formed after a traumatic event. Over time, it is normal for this memory to fade. This is called fear extinction. We all have genes that are associated with a fast or slow fear extinction. Those with a slower fear extinction could be more prone to PTSD, phobias, and anxiety.
I was sure that my fear extinction gene moved at a turtle’s velocity, which would explain why my past negative experiences with weed made me so wary of the plant. But I was wrong. I had no genetic predisposition. I also didn’t have a predisposition to other major signifiers of anxiety, including a lower-than-average ability to react to stressful situations.
This made me anxious. Maybe I didn’t suffer from anxiety, after all? It was all in my head.
“Not so fast,” Len said. “Let’s dig a little deeper.”
My memory is shot under the influence of cannabis.
We all have the ability to store lots of information temporarily. Some of us have so-called photographic memories and can remember everything; others, like me, have decreased memory capability. In other words, I’m operating on an iOS 8, while people like Stephen Hawking are iOS 16.
What does this have to do with anxiety and cannabis?
“Your working memory is impaired when you use cannabis,” Len said. This may explain the unpleasant sensation I get when I’m high of not remembering right away why I’m feeling this way. I have explained that being high is like waking up in an unfamiliar bed in a strange room. For a moment, I’m disoriented, trying to figure out where I am and why I’m there. Then I remember. But when I’m high, I go through this thought process in a continual loop. I don’t remember I’m high then I remember, then I don’t remember again. This makes me anxious.
I metabolize cannabis slowly.
The report revealed that I have some genes associated with a decreased ability to metabolize fat and an increased risk of obesity. That makes a lot of sense. I have struggled with a tire belly most of my adult life. My kids have asked me if I’m expecting.
“Your mind and body are so connected,” Len said. “Think about it this way: If you’re not feeling good about your weight, you may actually trigger other genes that are associated with feeling bad about yourself. And if you’re feeling bad about yourself, and you’re genetically predisposed to it, that can trigger anxiety as well.”
But my metabolism is also important in determining how the enzymes in my body break down weed. According to my DNA report, I am an “intermediate metabolizer” of THC, meaning THC passes through my system slightly more slowly than through that of your average stoner. For this reason, Len suggests that I reduce the recommended dosage of THC by about 50 percent.
On the other hand, I am an “ultra-metabolizer” for CBD, meaning it takes a lot to have any effect. I can digest that stuff as fast as water. Not only can I take the recommended dose, but I can consider increasing the dose to get a noticeable effect.
Certain oils make me feel certain ways.
Terpenes are the essential oils found in plants. They’re responsible for the aromas, flavors, and even colors of different flowers. A cannabis plant has approximately 150 different types of terpenes. These terpenes interact with the endocannabinoids built into your system in different ways, depending on your genetics. For example, the terpene limonene can be found in certain strains of cannabis. When combined with your cannabinoid system, limonene can give you a feeling of euphoria because they boost serotonin and dopamine levels. But they also increase cortisol in your blood. If you have a genetic predisposition to anxiety and have too much cortisol streaming through your blood, thanks to high doses of limonene, you will feel more anxious. Elevated cortisol levels=anxious feelings.
An algorithm in my DNA test looked at the terpenes in cannabis that are believed to be best for someone with my genetic profile. They are:
Linalool - a floral and spicy terpene believed to promote relaxation and calmness
Beta-caryophyllene - a musky and citrusy terpene believed to fight inflammation.
The reason terpenes are “believed” to do these things is that there’s not much science to back up the claims. But that hasn’t stopped cannabis companies from infusing their products with various terpenes, claiming their strains have “calming,” “arousing,” or “focusing” effects.
I’m sleep-deprived, which makes me more anxious
Those with anxiety are familiar with the experience of tossing and turning in bed, which makes you feel pretty crummy the next day and leads to feeling more anxious.
Many of us have genetic predispositions to sleep disorders. My DNA test revealed that I possess a gene variant for insomnia and something called bruxism when you grind your teeth at night.
My pot prescription
Now that he had pieced together much of my genetic jigsaw puzzle, Len was ready to give me a prescription.
Because cannabis is often sold in ratios of CBD: THC, Len recommended I look for formulations higher in CBD than THC, such as a 4:1 or even a 20:1.
Search for cannabis that’s high in linalool, beta-caryophyllene, and myrcene.
Limit my consumption of THC products to 50 percent of whatever the suggested dose is.
Experiment with high-dose CBD (1200 mg) with less THC and CBN for better sleep.
Start with a low dose and go slow.
Weed Store Tour
The next assignment in my cannabis journey was to visit a few local dispensaries to see if they had the pot I needed. This would be easy in Los Angeles, where there are an estimated 1,000 pot stores, both legal and illegal—that’s more dispensaries than public schools. Priorities.
My first stop was a tony dispensary near my home in Hollywood’s fashionable La Brea district. It looked more like an Apple store than a weed dispensary. Illuminated glass cases displayed all the wares in colorful packaging, club music reverberated off the walls, and the sales staff—or budtenders, as they’re generally known—looked like they’d just walked off the set of Portlandia.
I’d been invited to a grand opening party for the dispensary a few months earlier and was introduced to iconic rapper Snoop Dogg, who has admitted to smoking 81 blunts a day. I was escorted to a VIP area to meet him for a quick interview. Before I could even say hello, he handed me a joint he’d been enjoying. I froze. What was I supposed to do? I was a cannabis novice, and I could only imagine that the weed Snoop enjoys must be pretty potent. But when Snoop offers you a hit, you take the hit. It’s like a peace pipe. I took the blunt and fake inhaled, hoping he was too high to notice.
That was two months earlier. On this day, there was no Snoop and just a few customers. I’d come with Len and a ton of questions. Our strategy was to ask the budtender for their recommendations, not disclosing right away what the DNA test had revealed. After getting our IDs checked and walking past an armed security guard (theft is rampant as cannabis stores deal mainly in cash thanks to banking regulations), we met a friendly budtender--or “guide,” as he preferred to be called--named Mike. He wore a flannel shirt and a trucker’s hat and spoke with a thick Chicago accent so that “the” sounded like “dah.”
“I’ve been diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder,” I told him. “So, I’m looking for cannabis to help with that.”
“How do you like to consume it?” he asked. I shrugged and looked at Len, who said, “What do you recommend?”
Mike led us to a part of the store showcasing “flower” products. Smoking flower is still the most popular method of consumption, probably because of its versatility. You can put flower in a pipe, a bowl, or a bong, or roll it into a joint or a blunt. Some people even cook with it. (Those people are nuts.)
I surveyed the boxes under the glass with names like Napalm and Super Silver Haze. There wasn’t much information about what was in the cannabis other than the THC levels, which ranged from 20 to 35 percent, the absolute most THC a plant can have.
Mike recommended the Pink Picasso, saying it was lower in THC than many other offerings, so it wouldn’t make me too high. Len asked if there was any information on the terpene profile. Mike pulled a well-worn journal out of his pocket and looked at the scribblings inside. “I write down all the terpene profiles in my little black book,” he said, explaining that the information was on a card inside the box but that we couldn’t open the package due to state law.
It seemed strange that we had to rely on his notes rather than, say, a QR code we could scan, but I appreciated Mike’s attention to detail. “This one is high in linalool, 4.5 milligrams,” he said. “It really takes the edge off.”
Len asked if it had beta-caryophyllene.
“No,” he said, looking over his list. “None of the flower has both of those terpenes.”
“How about the tinctures?” Len suggested. The advantage of tinctures is that they come with little droppers, which allow you to measure the dose you’re taking more accurately. Unlike the flower products, they also had the ratio of CBD to THC right on the label.
Mike suggested a 4:1 CBD to THC product. I asked about the terpene profile, giving Len a little knowing smile. I was learning.
Then Mike dropped this bomb. “You only get the effects of terpenes through inhalation, so I never consider the terpene profile in a sublingual or an edible .”
Again, I glanced over at Len, who looked as if his head might pop off his neck. “I’m not sure I agree,” he said through gritted teeth.
I bought a 4:1 tincture with no information on the terpene profile for $45. By this point, I believed I had exhausted all my options at the story. Plus, Len has smoke coming out of his ears, and it wasn’t from a bong hit. We thanked Mike and left.
Len was annoyed. “His level of knowledge was pedestrian at best,” he said about Mike. “He was stating an opinion as fact.” (Later, I would check in with a medical cannabis doctor to see if terpenes were effective when taken as an edible or tincture. They were—Len for the win.)
But Len’s frustration wasn’t just about Mike—it was the overall consumer experience at most dispensaries in California. “You have a medical condition,” he explained. “But most budtenders don’t have the expertise or knowledge to make the proper recommendations. They could guide you to something that exacerbates your condition.” Budtenders are among the lowest-paid employees in the cannabis industry, but for many cannabis consumers, a budtender is the first person they encounter. We are at the mercy of their suggestions. Moreover, most cannabis stores in California and other states in which cannabis is recreationally legal cater almost exclusively to a crowd that wants to get high. That’s what most consumers are buying, so that’s where the expertise is focused—the most bong for your buck. They’re not designed to cater to the anxious folk. And when they do encounter an anxious patient, that person is not armed with the information that I had.
I felt blessed and cursed.
“Come with me,” Len said. We went to his car, and he handed me a jar with two cannabis buds inside. “I saved these for you. They have the correct terpene profile.”
I didn’t ask where he got them.
In the next chapter of the Anxiety Project, I will tell you what happened when I tried pot to cure my anxiety.
I ran into that same issue with staffers at the cannabis dispensaries--even those specifically for medical marijuana--they didn’t have a clue what would help with anxiety. And they don’t give samples! So every time I tried a tincture, it was a $75 gamble. I eventually gave up on finding the right thing. I’ll be curious to see how your experiment turned out.