I SMOKED CANNABIS. I WENT MAD. BUT LIFE'S NOT THAT SIMPLE

As the review published in The Lancet last week confirmed, studies
have been finding an association between cannabis and psychotic
experiences for the past 30 years. The reviewers looked at 35 studies
and suggested that cannabis users have a 40 per cent increased chance
of having psychotic experiences. They also say that 14 per cent of
psychotic problems in the United Kingdom could be linked to cannabis
use. But not all the evidence supports a simplistic causal link. For
example, while the use of cannabis has gone up steadily over the past
30 years, the incidence of psychotic diagnoses has not. Yet the
research coming out of the Institute of Psychiatry and this latest
review from Bristol and Cardiff universities is putting growing
pressure on the Government to reconsider its classification of
cannabis as a class C drug.

Cause and effect are difficult to unravel. Are people with a tendency
to hear voices or suffer from paranoia attracted to using cannabis to
calm themselves or is the drug increasing the risk of these
experiences? Perhaps both processes are happening. In my experience,
both as a user and as a psychologist, cannabis can be both a tonic
and a poison. Ultimately, like all drugs, it brings problems, but
demonising it will not help.

At the age of 15 and 16 I smoked cannabis pretty heavily. It helped
me escape the boredom of school life and fractious relations with my
parents. It also helped me bury deeper anxieties about impending
adulthood and my identity. I fell in love with the idea that this
illicit weed could bring me serenity on a daily basis. Its forbidden
status made me feel rebellious and cool. I became addicted to the
ceremonious ritual of sticking the papers together and building the
spliff that I hoped would transport my mind to a more peaceful place.
But life has taught me that if you suppress things sooner or later
they come back to haunt you. By the age of 18, I was drug free,
trying to get over my first girlfriend leaving me and struggling to
find a decent job. Instead of getting depressed, I slowly drifted
into a dreamlike reality where I was spied upon and felt I had
special spiritual powers. It culminated in being treated
psychiatrically for a year and being given the rather unhelpful tag
of schizophrenic. My recovery has involved largely steering clear of
cannabis and finding more healthy ways to relax and stay calm and centred.

In my work, I help others who have developed psychotic experiences.
Many of us choose to avoid using cannabis, but some feel it is
helpful in dealing with anxiety and the side effects of the
medication they are prescribed. My impression is that some people -
and I would include myself in this category - do have a particular
sensitivity to cannabis and need to be cautious with it. But I also
feel there is a political agenda behind the current "blame the weed
for mental illness" campaign. Psychiatrists such as Robin Murray and
others spent many years in the 1990s - described as "the decade of
the brain" - trying to find a biological and genetic cause for
psychosis, but with little success. The latest focus on cannabis can
be viewed as the dying gasp of the "blame the brain" brigade who seek
to justify a biological approach to madness.

Such an emphasis on chemical causes suits the pharmaceutical industry
and obscures the bigger truth that mental distress is caused by
emotional traumas and troubles. People who react badly to cannabis
but continue to use it are trying to suppress feelings such as anger,
guilt and loneliness. It is the social situations that lie behind
these emotions that we really need to understand and address.