I Went to a Weed Retreat for Women and Swore I'd Never Smoke Again

Once the dab-edible combo fully took effect, I fixed myself a large, large plate of snacks before falling asleep with my feet in the cool pool water. When I woke up from the nap, I felt refreshed and amused that munchies are a very real side effect for me. Ready to keep the good times going, I went to a panel titled "Edibles Fit for a Goddess" by cannabis chef Deliciously Dee. There she served samples of edible gummies. They were delicious. And made me hungry again. Why am I always hungry?

Feeling relatively invincible, I stopped by the dab bar again, now considering myself something of a connoisseur. The hit felt different this time, thicker somehow. Soon after that, my memories of the evening start to blur: I remember sitting slack-jawed in amazement as a woman walked around with a Tibetan singing bowl. I remember picking up a meat kebab for dinner. I remember shivering as day turned to night and all I had on was my bathing suit and a pair of shorts. I remember sleeping by a fire as women around me told stories and sang.

As the night wore on, I was deeply exhausted. Tired of eating. Tired of being high. Tired of being tired. I couldn't engage with any of the activities because moving felt too hard. I couldn't bond, or hold a conversation even, with any of the women there because apparently being high makes me even more inward than I already am. I came to the desert to be a breezy free spirit and instead ended up a loner who can't stop eating hummus. Frustrated, I crawled into bed—I think at 10:00 P.M.—and made a mental note to never, ever go near cannabis again.

The next day though, everything felt bright again. I'd had a dreamless sleep and felt well rested. My breakfast tasted better. By 10:00 A.M., I found myself sitting on a pillow, smiling, as The Craft actress Rachel True taught a session on how to read tarot cards. Now sober, I realized the problem wasn't the edibles or the getaway. I'm just a newbie who didn't pace herself correctly. Like a 19-year-old drunk on Burnett's Blueberry Vodka, I didn't know my limits or where to draw the line. Simple as that. In this new light, I was able to look around and see the camaraderie of the women there. This was a place for females of all ages, of all body types, and of all backgrounds who came from all over—Canada, California, New York, Tennessee—to learn more about themselves, and others, and, yes, to be 4-20 friendly.

“We want you to feel like you have a community," Miss Bliss explained during her closing statements. "A place where you have space for you to learn and grow. To organically become the best version of yourself and to use cannabis as that tool along the way."

A point of view I respect but, honestly, I'm not sure the best version of myself needs weed. I'll take that community, though—and the snacks.