How cbd stopped my hands shaking in sainsburys

For years I had this thing where I felt sick standing in Sainsbury's queue – proper sick, not nerves. My hands shook so bad the basket rattled against the metal shelf. I dug my nails into the handle so deep they left crescent marks on my palms. Because if I didn't grip hard enough, I'd drop everything and run. Again. I started wearing long sleeves in summer, even though it was thirty degrees, just so no one could see my arms dotted with those marks from all the times I clawed myself calm. 

Then I found broad-spectrum CBD. Not from a doctor, not from some glossy advert. From my mate Dave who'd been taking it for his dodgy knee. He shoved a 10ml bottle in my hand down the pub and said, Try it. Worst case it does bugger all. I thought he was taking the piss. But two nights later I couldn't sleep, legs twitching like they were on a live wire, so I put half a dropper under my tongue. Held it for a minute, swallowed. It didn't really taste of anything. I sat on the bed, waiting to feel better or worse. Nothing. Then twenty minutes later the buzzing eased. Not gone. Just quieter. Like someone turned the volume down in my head.

I'm not one of those idiots who buys every trend. I've done the GP, the waiting lists, the learn to breathe differently classes. Nothing touched it. Then this CBD thing – it wasn't a cure. It was a volume knob. Like the day you stop hearing the neighbour's telly through the wall. You don't notice until it's gone quiet. Suddenly I could walk past the bread aisle without imagining everyone staring at the sweat patches. Suddenly I didn't have to pre-plan every item so I could do self-checkout. Suddenly I could stand in the queue and not count how many people were behind me. It's not like I'm brave now. I'm just… functional. And functional feels like magic when you've been broken. Paragraph Four 

So if you're sat there now – on the sofa, in bed, lights low – hands still shaking even though you're alone – try it. Not because I'm a salesperson. I'm the woman who still shops at midnight. But now I can do daytime if I have to. I take half a dropper of the broad-spectrum CBD, hold it under my tongue for a minute, swallow. It doesn't taste bad. It's okay. And in twenty minutes I can breathe without counting. In forty minutes I can even talk to the cashier without my voice cracking. And the more days I took it, the stronger it got. Like it was coating the nerves in quiet. Not magic. Not forever. But enough to make me forget I ever needed it. If it doesn't work, chuck it. But if it does – if it just quiets the noise for one bloody night – then you'll know. And you'll come back. And that's enough. For now.