Last August, I felt like I was barely keeping up-bouncing between events, social obligations, and long nights that left me completely drained. After attending and producing a series of events-including the Ohai Higher Ground party at Fortune Night Club in Vancouver—I could feel my throat drying out. That night, I spent hours talking over loud club speakers and by the end of it, my voice was hoarse. Two days later, I was the MC at my best friend's wedding. A few days after that, I attended a friend’s daughter's bat mitzvah and worked as a vendor at a cannabis showcase event.

Two weeks later, when I made it to the US Open with my boyfriend, my throat was completely shot. It was my first time attending, and it happened to be the semi-finals, but instead of cheering and soaking in the electric energy, I was reduced to a polite golf clap. It was supposed to be a much-deserved break and time off so I let myself have one glass of Moët and kept my talking to a minimum. I quickly learned that whispering actually made things worse, straining my throat muscles even more. Days of overuse and exposure to smoky environments had caught up with me, making speaking painful and I couldn't sip water without wincing in agony. My cough was relentless—dry, persistent, and at times, it felt like my throat was in a chokehold.

Despite how bad it was, I didn’t see a doctor right away. My schedule was packed, and I kept pushing through. But after three gruelling weeks and crushed bags of Ricolas, I finally walked into urgent care in Brooklyn, realizing that sheer determination (and an excessive amount of lozenges) wasn't going to cut it. As a Canadian traveling in the U.S., I always purchase extended medical insurance—my visit cost $225 USD out of pocket, but thankfully, my insurance covered it. The doctor prescribed a $90 medical mouthwash that was supposed to alleviate the pain. I decided not to fulfill the prescription right away but kept it in my back pocket in case it became unbearable, which felt inevitable.

I got tested for strep and received the results the next day: negative. That was a relief. When I got back to my hometown, I immediately booked an appointment with a Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) doctor, a trusted friend. Without hesitation she told me that my body was basically a pipe clogged up with phlegm and mucus, triggered by stress and past traumatic events. I was to stay away from any phlegm-causing foods and drinks - no sugar, no dairy, no caffeine, no spicy food, and no alcohol. Stay hydrated and drink lemon water to thin out the mucus. As I committed to the change, I realized how much lighter and clearer I felt, even beyond my throat symptoms. Cutting out dairy alone made a noticeable difference in how much mucus I was dealing with, and I was enjoying my daily herbal tea ritual. I received a bag of herbs, which I was to take with water once a day, as well as NAC or N-acetylcysteine (WebMD), supplements meant to support lung health and bronchitis. At that point, I had already switched into recovery mode, relying on my natural remedies. I’ve always leaned towards Eastern medicine before turning to Western medicine unless necessary—probably influenced by my Chinese heritage, where traditional remedies like herbal teas, acupuncture, and holistic healing have always been part of my family's approach to wellness. I doubled down on lemon water, bee propolis spray, nasal saline rinses, salt water gargles, and herbal teas like chamomile, peppermint, ginger, and honey—anything to comfort and help my throat heal.

The Unintentional T-Break

I couldn’t smoke, and that’s my primary and preferred method of consumption. While I could have turned to edibles or oils, but I was so worn out that the idea of altering my mental state just didn’t feel right. My body felt depleted, and instead of reaching for a way to escape, I wanted to focus on truly recovering. Every part of me—physically, mentally, and emotionally—needed a reset.

At first, quitting cannabis was just about protecting my throat. I didn’t want to make things worse. But as the days passed, I leaned into the break entirely. I realized that smoking wasn’t just my favourite way to consume—it was tied to my routine. And in this moment, my priority wasn’t routine. It was healing.

This wasn’t a planned tolerance break—it was an unintentional detox that forced me to reevaluate my habits and experience the unexpected effects of a forced T-break.

What Happened Next?

Almost immediately, my dreams became Oscar-worthy productions—vivid, detailed, and incredibly active. It felt like I had been transported into the world of Oz or Avatar, where everything was hyper-real, action-packed, and bursting with colour, a common effect of vivid dreams after quitting weed. All my life, I’ve struggled with sleep. If you asked me what superpower I’d want, I’d say: the ability to fall asleep and stay asleep. But suddenly, my sleep quality improved. My Oura ring even confirmed it—I was getting deeper, more restful sleep.

Even while bouncing between hotels, I found myself waking up early, hitting the hotel gyms, and feeling sharper throughout the day. The usual brain fog I fought off with caffeine wasn’t there. And I had a realization: I didn’t need weed to sleep. I needed it to relax and occasionally give my brain a break from constantly computing a million things at once.

How My Relationship with Weed Changed

It’s been five months since that forced T-break, and my approach to cannabis is different now. I’m far more intentional about how much I consume and when. It feels more like a treat—something I truly enjoy, rather than something I rely on. In a way, it’s similar to my relationship with wine.

This experience didn’t make me want to quit weed, but it reshaped my perspective on how and when I indulge. It made me realize that cannabis had become more of an automatic habit than a mindful choice. Taking a step back allowed me to recognize how much control I actually have over my consumption, and that awareness has been empowering. Now, I take an extra beat to think—am I in the right mindset when I reach for my stash, or is it out of habit or distraction? This small moment of mindfulness has made a big difference in how I approach my usage. Now, it’s more about intentional cannabis consumption rather than routine use.

Final Thoughts

Cannabis can be a powerful tool for physical relief, mental clarity, and relaxation, but at the end of the day, the magic is in you. Our bodies constantly communicate what they need, and it's up to us to listen, adjust, and advocate for our own wellness. Whether it's taking a break, changing consumption habits, or integrating new self-care practices, we hold the power to find what truly works best for our systems. I’m not here to tell anyone to quit or cut back—just sharing how stepping away for a bit gave me a fresh perspective. Maybe it’s worth experimenting with your own habits and seeing what happens—whether you're considering how to take a tolerance break or just reassessing your relationship with cannabis. If you’ve ever taken a forced T-break, I’d love to hear how it impacted you. What changed for you? Drop a comment or share your experience.