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Power can be microscopic. Within the dark tunnels of blood vessels, a cannabinoid targets its victim — a neuron with cannabinoid synaptic receptors extending along its winding dendrites. Click. The cannabinoid slides into place, attaching itself to its corresponding receptor in the presynaptic terminal of the brain.
The signal has been sent.
The thought always occurs to me whenever I see the gray haze of smoke coming from the joint between my grandmother’s fingers. She always told me a little bit of marijuana wouldn’t hurt her.
That would be true if, of course, she did not smoke often and the rush of dopamine would be enough to feel rewarding.
She inhales deeply and releases the puff of smoke. She seems entirely at ease, her eyes gazing out to the sunset, watching the gentle waves on the lake lap against the shore. It’s as if nothing in the world could be a bother to her at that moment.
As I look at her, I think about all the neurons firing in her brain right now, the action potential rising toward 0, counting down the millivolts as if it were the clock on New Year’s Eve. -55 millivolts… -22 millivolts…0 millivolts.
My grandma’s face relaxes as she leans back into her chair. That’s how I know the vesicles in the presynaptic terminal of the neuron simply couldn’t resist spasming out each one of those dopamine molecules.
Feels good, doesn’t it?
I resist the urge to scream.
There’s this ache in my chest that keeps clawing at the walls of my sternum, begging to be set free. I wonder if the dopamine molecules felt the same urge, fighting against the lipid bilayer to escape.
I grab the end of the roll of the cigar and twist it so hard my finger turns a ghostly shade of white. I will the tendons in my forearms to contract as I yank both ends of the joint in opposite directions, tearing it at its center.
But that’s not enough.
I slam the joint on the pavement and without hesitation, bring the weight of my boot flush against the paper. I twist and shove the toe of my boot until what was once a paper covered roll of marijuanna becomes a pile of black ash.
I’m not done yet.
I make my way to the kitchen, fingers skimming the wooden box of the rest of the joints and cigarettes. I grab the whole box and a lighter and make my way to the firepit outside. I don’t bother taking out the cigarettes from the box — my hands do the work for me, simply throwing the whole thing into the pit.
One flick of the lighter ignites the softest blue flare. In a moment the flare will expand into flames, burning a deep shade of orange and red. It’s my anger encompassed in a property of matter.
But of course, that doesn’t happen. I do not yank the joint from my grandmother with the urgency of a madwoman. I do not turn the kitchen upside down looking for that wooden box and a lighter. I continue to sit still across from my grandmother and coexist in the same atmosphere as her.
My paranoia makes me start to wonder what could happen to people who are addicted to THC.
The brain gets bored. What it once categorized as a euphoric feeling, becomes downgraded to just merely pleasurable because the brain got so used to the dopamine flooding the system.
According to Healthline, Dendrites with dopamine receptors that had once reached out so eagerly to grab the attention of dopamine molecules begin to lose those receptors.
As THC keeps polluting the body, a plethora of dopamine neurotransmitters hastily search the postsynaptic cleft, trying to locate their receptors, trying to find their way home.
But they’re gone. THC, stripped powerless, no longer serves a purpose in satisfying the brain.
With every haze of smoke I see, with every smell of the pungent marijuanna leaf I inhale, I wonder when does the use of smaller drugs turn into harsher substances like opiods?
According to American Addictions Centers, the gateway theory suggests the extended use of one specific drug could lead to use of other drugs while the common liability model states the use of any drug could influence future usage of another one.
Perhaps this idea of opioid use occurs not through the usage of other less-potent drugs but when the amounts of dopamine produced by less-potent drugs doesn’t satisfy the brain’s pleasure center, stronger drugs are needed.
Enter opioids – the new and improved villain of the mesolimbic system, selecting their prey based on one critical condition: dismantling neurons that inhibit other dopamine releasing neurons (Pubmed Central) when levels become too high.
As they hunt for their target, they’d find that the GABAergic interneurons are vulnerable enough to contain receptors that conveniently provide a snug fit for opioid molecules to bind to.
They’d never see it coming.
The opioids trickle through the bloodstream, in search of fulfilling what their predecessors, cannabinoids, couldn’t accomplish long term — satisfy the brain. They take their places, like soldiers ready for battle, binding to the receptors of an oblivious GABAergic neuron.
Within milliseconds the neuron will fail to regulate the dopamine releasing neurons. No signal will be received for these neurons to prevent the dopamine neurotransmitters from flooding the nucleus accumbens where the brain will finally feel the sense of euphoria again.
Is it satisfactory enough now?
This article was written as part of a program to educate youth and others about Alameda County’s opioid crisis, prevention and treatment options. The program is funded by the Alameda County Behavioral Health Department and the grant is administered by Three Valleys Community Foundation.
