The Levels of Being High: From Calibrated Calm to Time Hiccups

I don’t get high to chase dragons or find cosmic truths. I do it because sometimes my nervous system feels like it’s trying to chew its own cables. Between multiple sclerosis and a sensitive, neurodivergent brain, there are days when my muscles spasm without reason and my skin reacts like it’s under siege from invisible ants. A warm bath can help, but sometimes even the alkalinity of the water feels like sandpaper. On those days, I take a gummy. I will share my experiences and my levels of being high.

Not to escape. To reset.

Just half a gummy, though. Because I’ve learned the hard way: THC is a dance partner that’ll lead you off the floor and into a mirror maze if you’re not careful. It has this uncanny way of turning your attention inward—but not always in the fun, insightful way. Sometimes it’s just annoying. Sometimes it messes with your sense of time. Sometimes… well, that’s what this post is about.

The Gummy Problem: Unpredictable Potency

Even when I stick to the same brand and same batch, I never fully trust a gummy. Sometimes I’ll take one and barely feel a shift. Other times, I’ll be launched into a mental state I didn’t sign up for. It’s not just anecdotal—THC is oil-based, and it doesn’t always mix evenly into gelatin. Depending on how the batch was poured and cooled, the cannabinoids can concentrate more toward the top or bottom, meaning two identical-looking gummies might have drastically different effects.

That’s why I usually start with half a gummy. Not because I’m timid—because I’ve learned. My goal isn’t to dissolve into the void. It’s to manage spasticity, reduce sensory overwhelm, and keep my awareness intact. The half-dose usually puts me right in that therapeutic window. Beyond that, things get unpredictable fast.

The Levels of Being High (As I Experience Them)

THC doesn’t just flip a switch—it slides a whole set of cognitive and perceptual dials. And for me, that spectrum breaks down into five stages. These aren’t clinical or universal—they’re how I’ve come to understand and categorize my own experiences. Your mileage may vary.

Level 0.5: Calibrated Calm

At this level, I’m fully lucid. I can think, write, interact, and even engage in complex thought—just with a smoother internal texture. Muscle tension eases. Sensory sensitivity becomes manageable. Anxiety quiets down to a murmur.

“I feel more present and less reactive. It’s like my nervous system takes a deep breath.”
—Anonymous

Level 1: Context Expansion

This is the creative boost zone. Thoughts take longer, weirder paths. Connections I wouldn’t normally see start surfacing. The mind is playful, sometimes distractible.

“I start making connections I wouldn’t normally see. It’s like my brain is exploring side roads instead of the highway.”
—Anonymous

Level 2: Time Hiccups

This is where things start to slip. My awareness fades in and out, and I often realize I’ve missed entire chunks of time. It’s like reading a book and realizing you don’t remember the last four pages—over and over again.

“After I smoke, I often have trouble remembering the sequence of events that transpired while I was high. Does this happen to anyone else?”
—u/[deleted]

“It’s like my brain keeps skipping—like I’m buffering every few minutes and don’t remember what happened in between.”
—Paraphrased

Level 3: Existential Drift

At this point, the sense of self may begin to blur. Thoughts lose structure. Paranoia or nihilism creeps in. You forget how to exist—not in a dramatic way, just in a low-grade, deeply unsettling one.

“I can’t tell if I was just quiet for 20 minutes or if I literally forgot how to exist for a while.”
—u/random-baked-thoughts

“I was in my room enjoying some music… Eventually I listened and I realized how humans are just bags of meat controlled by electrical signals in the brain… I tried to deny this, but the voice just grew louder.”
—u/[deleted]

Level 4: Total Blackout

This is the line I haven’t personally crossed. It’s when your brain simply checks out. Some people fall asleep instantly. Others stay awake but remember nothing. It’s not mystical—it’s just too much.

“I had the idea of making a weed cake with 5 ounces of weed butter… Three of us dug in and had 3 slices each… Next thing I know it was 6 a.m. and I was on the couch. I was still ripped face when I woke up.”
—u/[deleted]

“The biggest signal for me is that when I do weed, no matter HOW much I do, it’s a blackout… I black out and I hate it.”
—u/[deleted]

Final Thoughts

Cannabis isn’t a one-size-fits-all experience, and it’s definitely not a neutral one. For me, it’s a tool—one I use deliberately, in small doses, to manage a nervous system that often feels like it’s misfiring. But that tool can become a trap if I’m not careful. The difference between a calming aid and a cognitive glitch-fest can be just a few extra milligrams. I’ve learned where my limits are—and how to respect them.

If you’re someone who uses THC, especially edibles, my advice is simple: start low, go slow, and don’t assume the next gummy will act like the last. The line between reflection and dissociation is thinner than it looks.