Will Delta-8 Gummies Save Me From Myself? A Writer Asks.

I think there’s a certain stereotype of a writer that exists, nested within the niche of “starving artist”: that of the charmingly miserable, boozy artist. The one who can’t write without a fifth of vodka in their desk, a cigarette in hand, a bag of trauma slung over one shoulder, and a buzzing, stinging, hive of anxiety strapped to the other, dragging their feet through another great depression. A hardship of economy, emotion, and apathy all at once.

Many of us have been that writer or artist. There’s always some thing, isn’t there, to help cure us of our creative blocks? For me, it was being the boozy writer. Now, I (and my recent, scary, heart palpitations) have decided that I have to find a way to just be and still be creative. Without spiraling about productivity and “All the Shit I Have to Do”™.

And now here I am writing about how wonderful my experience with Delta-8 has been so far. Delta-8, the perfectly, mostly, legal-for-now - extract? A watered-down but cleaned-up version of pot? A fancy THC?

I’m joking - there are plenty of articles about what it is and how the labs work, but we’re not here to take a look at how the sausage is made. It’s synthetic weed. Scientists took the mojo out of hemp and here you go.

As someone who’s lived through the K-2 and bath salts years - on the ground floor - I’ve been pretty wary of synthetics. I watch plenty of news, sci-fi, and horror, you know? But after CBD exploded in popularity, with even soccer moms onboard, the whole idea of synthetic weed shifted from “scary street drug” to “MLM oil-infused moms shilling this on Facebook”.

Then my husband went and got some Delta-8 gummies.

This wasn’t exactly out of nowhere - both we and our families are all about healing, spirituality, and the benefits of naturally-occurring psychedelics. I’ve been reading tons of articles about microdosing, which, let’s be real - I live in Texas where everything from personal medical decisions to consuming specific plants is a felony. So while that passion will remain in microscopy and mycology alone - Delta-8 I can do. The gummies are an ideal method of consumption, preferable to smoking. (Even though the ritual of smoking is comforting, even if it’s not tobacco, it’s doing lung damage.)

Delta-8, in a word, is pleasant. At a 5g-ish dose (as I am not a regular consumer anymore - long gone are the days of being able to smoke people under the table) - my mind was still very clear. The body sensation is minimal. I’ve always hated the “melt into the couch” highs, so this was perfect for me.

Because I am generally either hyperfocused or scattered, hyped up or dog-tired, the effects were more apparent for me than if you were, say, “normal”. I was able to take my time with the one thing I was doing at a time: working on a story. Making a snack. Going back to writing without feeling the pressure of “All the Shit I Have to Do”™. Usually, I am in the middle of one thing when I’m reminded that I have to do another, then convince myself I can get them both done, then when neither of them gets done, I spiral into “I can’t do anything right” oblivion. Managing my “working moods” is a feat. Usually. But for one afternoon, I was able to focus from beginning to end.

This isn’t the one thing, the one answer to my problems. But I will say that it doesn’t feel self-indulgent like booze. It doesn’t demand “higher, higher!” the way that booze calls for more and more drinks. What it will most likely be is a once-a-week reminder that I can sit down and focus, that my best work is still in and ahead of me, and that if I just calm the fuck down, everything actually turns out alright.

My source was Hometown Hero, in Austin. This isn’t an affiliate article or anything, I simply enjoyed the product and would recommend it to adults. Also maybe get registered to vote if you haven’t, then use that vote to cast judgment upon those who’ve decided to make some plants illegal.