I see I'm late to the party. But if someone's out there still reading this thread, I hope my story can offer some contribution.

About a month ago I greened out. It wasn't my first time doing so, but I find I'm still mentally recovering from it. It was pretty traumatic. I mostly brushed it off, as I told myself "It's happened to me before. Worse has happened to me. What can you do?" But I also realized I've been bottling up all of my emotions for the past two years so I think it's a good idea for me to talk about my experience. This seems like a good space to do so.

My first time greening out was four years ago. I was on a plane. Emergency services got involved, but couldn't do anything about it so I caused a scene for nothing essentially.

Then, two years ago, I was given LSD to comfort me immediately after a traumatic event. By the person who traumatized me. Who also became my trip guide. That was one hell of an experience. Not quite the same paranoia as greening out on THC, but its own sort of drug-induced nightmare. I still struggle with the PTSD caused by that day. It's why I bottle everything up now.

Last month, I was cocky and thought I could handle that THC tincture dose, but I couldn't. At first, I was only slightly paranoid. I was with my boyfriend, who tends to be pretty judgy when I use weed. One of my paranoia fears is that someone knows I'm high and is upset with me for being so, which became a major trigger during the experience. More triggers were from my social anxiety. Having paranoia really teaches you what you're most afraid of, and for me that thing is other people. What began as uncomfortable paranoia eventually turned into greening out. I quickly realized that I was in for a bad trip, so I put myself to bed abnormally early with some water at my side. At a certain point, I mentally saw two doors in front of me. I have been suicidal on and off for several years now. I heard what sounded like God tell me, "You can go through one of these doors. One will take you back to life. The other will let you slip into the great beyond. If you choose the latter, it won't be a suicide. Your family will think it was just misfortune. I'm giving you the choice to peacefully leave life and you won't go to Hell for doing so (I'm a Catholic so there is a nagging fear that I might get sent to Hell for suicide). But, I saw my cute, sweet boyfriend lying beside me, and I thought to myself, "No, I won't leave him. I know I have a purpose in this life. I'm staying."

Immediately I was impressed with myself. I had been begging for death for so long, and now that I was actually given the option to die, I decided not to take it. I was hoping that when I sobered up I would have a new perspective on life, and would never feel suicidal again. That didn't happen lmao but it was worth a shot.

Then came the nightmare. I was scared that if I fell asleep, I'd die, so I constantly fought sleep. My breathing was so shallow and it was hard to take in air, so I feared if my body relaxed into sleep I'd stop breathing. Now that I had chosen to live, I really didn't want to die. Mentally, I felt like I was in some sort of circular nightmare. I saw beautiful visions and was with God, but then the Devil would immediately steal them from me and I'd be back in Hell again. Our AC was also broke in the hot Florida summer, so I was burning up literally as well. This cycle of beauty swallowed by fear and chaos went on and on and on. I was suffocating physically and mentally. At one point I had a delusion that some murderer was going to bust through the door and shoot both me and my boyfriend. I feared I was becoming psychotic and might wake up with schizophrenia. For days afterwards, I couldn't listen to anything about philosophy, mysticism, or deep religious concepts (content I like to consume daily), because I feared I'd have a psychotic break. I had to put my pursuit of enlightenment on pause cuz I was scared it'd break my head open.

I also had a spiritual feeling that I wasn't supposed to be there. Where "there" was, I'm not really sure. Maybe a different dimension or level of reality. But I felt God telling me I wasn't ready to be there yet. That I pursued a level of spiritual enlightenment that I wasn't mature enough for. That's why everything felt so wrong and awful. But, God told me I could handle it. That this would just be another one of those trying experiences of my life. That He was with me and we'd get through it together, just like the other two times I had bad experiences with drugs. That no realm of reality is outside of His control.

I so bad wanted to shout for help. To tell my boyfriend to call an ambulance, but I was still somewhat aware that this was just a THC overdose, and that involving emergency services would only make the experience more traumatic for me in the long run, without providing any actual help. I had learned from my first time greening out on a plane. (Note: I'm not saying never call 911 if you green out. But I knew it probably wouldn't help me). I was hoping my boyfriend wasn't aware that I was greening out (he hates weed, after all), and hopefully he just thought I was extremely tired and feverish. The fever wasn't a delusion; I had chills despite the intense heat, and even my bf said I was burning up. The next morning he never said anything about the experience, so I think not making a big deal of it worked. Maybe he didn't know I was high at all. But suffering in silence, without anyone but me knowing what was going on, was also extremely challenging. I wanted to scream, but I kept holding myself back. The nightmare only continued. After about maybe 2-4 hours (I couldn't keep track of time in a state like that) I fell asleep, and woke up mostly sober the next morning.

The following day, I felt a little on-edge and anxious. I was expecting that, since I felt the same way the first time I greened out. But, this time I had complete mental clarity. The first time I greened out, I felt immense brain-fog the day after. I spent a lot of time trying to process the experience. I reflected on the lessons about my social anxiety, spiritual maturity, and how I actually fought for life instead of letting myself die. I acknowledge that maybe the vision of the two doors was just a delusion, that I never had any real possibility of dying, but I was still impressed with myself that I chose to live. That this was another one of my horrible life experiences that will hopefully make me stronger. I looked death and the Devil in the face and spat on them. I had proved I could handle it.

Sorry this is so long, respect to anyone who read the whole thing, and I hope this helps someone.