Long-Term Side Effects of Hashish

Hashish is made from the resin of the cannabis plant, and it is usually smoked. It contains THC, the chemical that gives cannabis its effects. Many people who use it say it helps them relax, sleep, or push their worries aside for a while. That short feeling of calm is real, and it is also the reason the longer story is so often missed. The changes that appear after months and years of regular use do not arrive in one dramatic day. They build slowly, in small steps, and because each step is small, it is easy to blame something else: age, tiredness, a bad week at work, a run of poor sleep. This article looks at that slow build-up honestly, in plain words. It is general information, not individual medical advice. If you are worried about your own health, or about someone you care about, a qualified health professional is the right person to talk to.

Start with this: the effect of hashish is not limited to the hours of use itself. THC acts on the brain’s own signalling system, the system that helps control memory, attention, mood, appetite and sleep. When that system is nudged again and again, week after week, it begins to adjust. It becomes less sensitive. That adjustment is behind much of what follows: the need for more to feel the same effect, the flat feeling between uses, and the way thinking and mood can shift even on days when no hashish is used. None of this means every user will face every problem in this article. Some use it for years and notice little change, while others notice a great deal. How much risk a person faces depends on frequency, strength, age at first use, and the health problems they already carry.

How the Effect Changes When Use Becomes Regular

When a person first uses hashish, a small amount can produce a strong effect. The feeling may be relaxation, a lighter mood, or a sense that worries have moved further away. With regular use, that feeling changes. The brain adapts to the repeated presence of THC, and the same amount produces less. To feel what they used to feel, the person needs more, or stronger hashish, or more frequent use. This slow rise is easy to miss, because it does not happen in a single week. It happens over months, in small increases that feel like ordinary choices rather than a pattern.

That adaptation also changes the hours between uses. Where once the person felt normal between uses, they may now feel flat, restless, or low until they use again. The substance is no longer adding a pleasant feeling on top of a normal day. It is lifting a low feeling back toward normal, for a short time, before the low feeling returns. This is a cycle that is familiar with many substances: the relief is real, but it is borrowed from the hours that follow. Over time, the borrowing adds up, and the person can end up feeling worse most of the time than they did before they started using it regularly.

Habit adds another layer. Over months and years, hashish becomes woven into the day: after work, after dinner, before sleep, with friends, on a day off. Each of these moments becomes a trigger, and the trigger fires even when the person has decided to use less. The hand reaches for it almost without thinking. That is why the pattern is hard to break by decision alone. The routines around use have to change as well, and that takes time, patience, and often support from other people. A person who tries to change the habit without changing the routines around it often finds that the old moments of the day pull them back.

Remembering, Paying Attention and Making Plans

Thinking is one of the areas most clearly affected by regular use over time. Long studies that follow the same people over years tend to find the same pattern: people who use often do less well on memory and attention tests than people who never use, and the difference is widest for early starters and daily users. What shows up first in daily life is usually forgetfulness in the moment — a sentence just heard slipping away, a reason for entering a room vanishing, an appointment made yesterday gone from mind. Each slip is tiny, yet together they make an ordinary day feel heavier, because a day is really a chain of small remembered steps.

Staying focused shows the same wear. Keeping one thought in place for an hour, working through a long set of instructions, or getting through a dense document all need steady attention, and steady attention is the very thing that weakens with regular use. A person may find that they start tasks with good intentions and then drift away from them, or that they need more breaks than they used to, or that they make small mistakes in work that needs care. In school or in training, this shows up as slower learning. A student may need to hear something three times before it sticks, or may struggle to revise for an exam because the material will not stay in mind.

Planning is a quieter casualty. Making a plan requires holding several steps in mind at once and weighing what will happen if each step goes wrong. When memory and attention are weaker, planning becomes harder, and people tend to live more in the present moment. That can feel like a relief, and in small doses it can be. But over years, it makes it harder to save money, to finish a course of study, or to work towards a goal that takes months. The person is not lazy. They are working with a mind that finds it harder to keep the future in view, and that makes long-term effort feel less rewarding than it once did.

After use stops, some of this thinking trouble eases, above all the trouble with memory and focus. Research points to clearer thinking returning across weeks and months without the substance, though the return is slower for people who used heavily for many years and for people who began as teenagers, while the brain was still growing. That recovery is one of the strongest reasons to take the long-term effects seriously rather than treating them as permanent. The mind can recover, but it needs time without the substance that was slowing it down, and the time needed is longer when use was heavy or began early.

Mood That Sinks Between Uses

Mood is where hashish is easiest to misunderstand, because what it does in an hour and what it does over years pull in opposite directions. Soon after using, many people feel calmer and less on edge. That calm is genuine, and it is why people return to it when life feels hard. Across months and years, though, the pattern often flips: people who use regularly are more likely to describe low mood, worry and a loss of drive than people who never use. The brief calm of an hour gives way to a dull, flat mood that can sit over the whole day, and the worries that were pushed aside come back stronger once the effect has faded.

This is partly a matter of how the brain adjusts. With regular THC, the brain produces less of its own mood-regulating chemicals, so that between uses, mood drops below its normal level. The person then feels that they need hashish simply to feel normal, not to feel good. It is a hard truth to accept when the substance still seems to help in the moment, but it is one of the most consistent findings in the research. The person is not imagining the relief. They are also not imagining the low mood that follows it. Both are real, and both belong to the same pattern.

The connection with more serious mental health trouble also needs plain words. Regular, heavy use of cannabis products, including hashish, is linked with a higher risk of psychosis, a condition in which a person loses touch with reality, hearing voices or holding beliefs that are not true. The danger is greatest for people who use strong forms often, who began young, and whose close family has a history of mental illness. That does not mean the substance brings on psychosis in everyone, or even in most users. It means that for a small, vulnerable group, it can pull forward a problem that might never have appeared at all, or might have arrived far later and far more gently. That risk is real, and it is one of the reasons health professionals take heavy, long-term use seriously even when the person feels well.

Motivation is the other quiet casualty. The phrase people often use is that they have lost their drive, and it is a good description. Things that once gave pleasure — a hobby, a game, a visit to a friend — begin to feel like too much effort. The person spends more time doing nothing in particular, and less time doing anything that takes planning or energy. People around the user sometimes call this laziness, which misses what is happening. The brain’s way of weighing effort against reward has shifted, and that shift is a recognised result of long use. The tragedy is that it makes the very things that would help — exercise, social contact, purposeful work — feel harder to start, so the person stays in the pattern that is causing the problem.

Nights That Look Like Sleep but Do Not Rest You

When regular users talk about hashish, sleep is often the first thing they mention, and it is often why they began. Many find they drift off faster after using, and for a while that feels like a real gain. The trouble is that the sleep it produces is not the same as natural sleep. THC cuts short the deep, dreaming part of sleep, the part in which the brain files away memories, works through feelings and restores itself. Someone can lie asleep for eight hours after using and still wake up unrested, because the sleep was shallow and did far less repair than natural sleep would have done.

As months pass, the body adjusts, and the person may reach a point where sleep will not come at all unless hashish is used. Sleep has become dependent on the substance, and the natural ability to wind down at night has weakened. When they try to stop, the first nights are often the hardest: vivid dreams, broken sleep, waking in the early hours and lying awake. These intense dreams after stopping are a familiar pattern, and they show the brain relearning how to sleep without THC. They usually settle over a few weeks, but they are unpleasant enough that many people return to using hashish simply to get a night’s sleep, and the cycle starts again.

Appetite shifts too, and that shift can be misleading. Hashish is famous for increasing appetite in the short term, and that can be welcome for someone who has lost weight or has no appetite. Over the long term, though, the pattern often becomes uneven: intense hunger at some times, little interest in food at others, and a tendency to eat large amounts of sweet or fatty food late at night. Over years, this can contribute to weight gain, poor nutrition and the health problems that follow from both. It can also mask a deeper problem, which is that the person is eating to fill a gap left by poor sleep and low mood, rather than because the body genuinely needs food.

Breathing, Chest and the Heart Under Strain

Hashish is most often smoked, and breathing in smoke of any kind carries a price for the lungs. The smoke contains many of the same irritants found in tobacco smoke, and regular inhalation over years can damage the airways. The most common result is a persistent cough, often worse in the morning, along with phlegm, wheezing and a tight feeling in the chest. People who smoke hashish regularly are more likely to develop bronchitis, an inflammation of the airways, and more likely to catch chest infections. They also tend to find physical effort harder: climbing stairs, running for a bus, or carrying a heavy load leaves them breathless sooner than it used to.

One honest difference from tobacco is worth naming. The evidence linking cannabis smoke to lung cancer is less clear than the evidence for tobacco, and studies have reached mixed conclusions. That does not mean the smoke is harmless. It means the risk is less well established, partly because many cannabis users also smoke tobacco, which makes it hard to separate the two. What is clear is that regular smoking damages the lungs in other ways, and that mixing hashish with tobacco, which is common, adds the full harm of tobacco on top. Anyone who smokes hashish with tobacco is taking on the risks of both substances at once, and the lungs pay the price for both.

The heart feels the strain too, though over years the damage there is less striking than the damage to the lungs. THC raises the heart rate for several hours after use, and it can raise blood pressure. For a healthy young person, this is usually not dangerous in itself, but for someone with an existing heart condition, or for an older person, the extra strain matters. Over years, the repeated strain, combined with the effects of smoking on blood vessels, adds to the general wear on the heart and circulation. It is not the most visible harm of long-term use, but it is part of the reason health professionals advise people with heart problems to avoid it.

Other physical effects get talked about less, yet they matter too. Regular use can affect fertility in both men and women, and it can lower testosterone in men. It can affect coordination and reaction time, which matters for anyone who drives or operates machinery. It can also make the immune system less effective, so that infections take longer to clear. Taken one by one, none of these effects is usually severe, yet together they leave a body working slightly worse in many places at the same time. That is how harm over years usually works: not a single disaster, but a pile of small losses that together make life harder.

Needing More to Feel the Same

Needing more to get the same feeling is the quiet force that drives much of the long-term damage. At first a small amount can bring a strong effect, yet after weeks and months of steady use the brain adjusts, and that same amount brings far less. To feel the same relaxation, the person needs more, or stronger hashish, or more frequent use. This is tolerance, and it is the reason that a habit that began as an occasional evening use can grow into a daily one without any single decision to increase it. The person is not necessarily trying to use more. They are trying to feel what they used to feel, and the amount required keeps rising.

Dependence comes next. It rarely looks like the severe dependence seen with certain other drugs. Shaking and sweating are unusual, and stopping is not dangerous in the way stopping alcohol can be. Even so, it is real and it is uncomfortable: a short temper, restlessness, broken sleep, intense dreams, little appetite, low mood and a powerful urge to use again. These troubles are usually worst in the first week and ease across two to four weeks, but they are strong enough that many attempts to stop end in the first few days. That is not weak character. It is a brain that has learned to expect the substance, and that expectation needs time to fade.

The shape of the day also pulls a person back. For years the evening had a set pattern — a certain chair, a certain hour, a certain mood — and hashish sat inside that pattern. When the substance is gone, the evening can feel empty, and the emptiness can feel worse than any craving. The people who manage to change the pattern are usually the ones who give the evening a new shape, not the ones who simply sit in the old shape and try to resist. They cook a proper meal, they go for a walk, they visit a friend, they read, they do something with their hands. The new shape does not need to be impressive. It needs to be real, and it needs to happen at the same time of day when the old habit used to happen, so that the evening is filled with something rather than left empty.

Jobs, Study, Money and People Around You

Work is often where long use first becomes visible, and it is also where it is hardest to own up to. A person who once finished tasks on time begins to miss deadlines. They take more sick days. They find it harder to concentrate in meetings, harder to remember what was agreed, harder to start a task that needs sustained effort. Over months, this can cost them a promotion, a pay rise, or the job itself. For someone who works with their hands, the cost may be different but no less real: slower reactions, more mistakes, a greater risk of accidents. For a student, it can mean a course unfinished or an exam failed, with consequences that last for years after the use has stopped.

Money is the next thing to feel it. Hashish costs money, and when use becomes daily, the cost becomes a regular part of the household budget. It is money that cannot be spent on food, on rent, on children’s needs, or on saving for the future. The amount may not seem large day by day, but over a year it adds up to a substantial sum, and over several years it can be the difference between a family that is coping and a family that is struggling. When money is tight, the spending on hashish can also become a source of argument at home, and the argument itself adds stress, which can make the person want to use more. It is a circle that is hard to break from the inside, and it is one of the reasons families often feel the harm before the user does.

The heaviest cost falls on relationships. A partner who once enjoyed long conversations finds that their other half is quieter, less interested, less present. A parent finds that their child is harder to reach. A friend finds that invitations are declined, or accepted and then forgotten. It is not that the person using hashish has stopped loving the people around them. It is that the substance has taken up more of their attention, and there is less left over for anyone else. Over years, that slow withdrawal can leave the person isolated, with fewer friends, a weaker family bond, and no one to turn to when things go wrong. That isolation, in turn, makes it harder to stop, because there is no one to notice, no one to encourage, no one to help.

Starting Young and What Changes After Stopping

Young users face the greatest risk. A teenager’s brain is still developing, and research is clear that starting young carries the highest risk, for thinking, for mood, and for the chance of developing a serious mental health problem. A young person who starts using hashish regularly in their teens is taking a risk with a brain that is still being built, and the effects can last long after they stop. The calm felt in the evening is real, but it is not free. It is paid for with concentration, memory and future options, and the price is higher when young than it will ever be again. If a young person can find another way to handle stress — sport, talking to someone, a hobby that absorbs them — it will serve them far better in the long run.

Giving up is difficult, and there is no point pretending it is not. The first week is usually the worst, with poor sleep, irritability and strong cravings, especially in the evenings when the person would normally use it. But the first week passes, and the second is usually easier. Sleep begins to improve, even if the dreams are vivid for a while. Thinking begins to sharpen. Food begins to taste better. The money that was going on hashish begins to stay in the pocket. These are small changes, but they are real, and they are the kind of changes that make it easier to keep going. If a person can get through the first month, they will have a much clearer sense of what life is like without it.

There is also a change in how a person sees themselves after years of use. They may not be sure how they would relax, how they would sleep, how they would handle a bad day, or even how they would spend an evening, because for years the answer to all of those questions was the same. That is a frightening feeling, and it keeps many people using long after they have stopped enjoying it. But it is also a feeling that passes. People who stop often discover, over a few months, that they can do all of those things without the substance, and that they do them better. They learn to cook a meal properly, to enjoy a walk, to have a conversation that lasts an hour, to fall asleep after a tiring day. None of those things is dramatic, but together they add up to a life that feels like their own again, rather than a life that belongs to a habit.

My Take:

I want to be honest about how I see long-term hashish use, because the subject is surrounded by two opposite kinds of dishonesty. On one side, there are people who say it is completely harmless, a natural plant with no real risks. On the other, there are people who treat anyone who uses it as a criminal or a failure. Both are wrong, and both make it harder for people to think clearly about their own lives. The truth, as far as I can see it, is in the middle: hashish can feel pleasant and calming in the moment, and it can also, over months and years, quietly make thinking slower, mood flatter, sleep less restorative, lungs weaker, work harder and relationships thinner. Those two facts are not in conflict. They are both true, and they need to be held together.

The part that worries me most is the slowness. If hashish caused a sudden, visible injury, people would stop at once. But it does not. It causes a slow narrowing, a life that gets a little smaller each year, and that is much harder to notice and much harder to act on. I think of the person who used to read a book a week and now cannot finish a chapter, or the student who used to love learning and now cannot concentrate long enough to revise, or the parent who used to play with their children in the evening and now sits quietly in another room. None of those people made a single bad decision. They made a hundred small ones, each one reasonable in the moment, and the sum of them was a life that had shrunk. That is the real cost of long-term use, and it is a cost that deserves to be named plainly.

I also think the mental health link is talked about too little, especially the link with motivation. People expect a drug to cause dramatic problems, and when it does not, they assume it is safe. But losing your drive is a serious problem, even if it is quiet. A person who has lost their drive stops applying for better jobs, stops learning new skills, stops seeing friends, stops taking care of their health. Over years, those missed chances add up to a very different life from the one they might have had. I do not think that is a small thing. I think it is one of the most important things about long-term use, and I wish more people understood it before they started, rather than after years of wondering why their life feels stuck.

The young are the people I worry about most. A teenager’s brain is still developing, and the research is clear that starting young carries the highest risk, for thinking, for mood, and for the chance of developing a serious mental health problem. A young person who starts using hashish regularly at fifteen or sixteen is taking a risk with a brain that is still being built, and the effects can last long after they stop. I would say to any young person who is thinking about it: the calm you feel in the evening is real, but it is not free. You are paying for it with your concentration, your memory and your future options, and the price is higher when you are young than it will ever be again. If you can find another way to handle stress — sport, talking to someone, a hobby that absorbs you — it will serve you far better in the long run.

I do not think that shaming people helps anyone stop. A person who uses hashish every day is not a bad person, and they are not stupid. They are usually someone who found something that helped them relax or sleep or cope, and then found that it was hard to stop. The habit grew around them gradually, and by the time they noticed the cost, they were already dependent on it. Telling them they are weak or foolish will not help. It will make them hide the problem, and hiding it makes it harder to solve. What helps, in my experience, is honesty without judgement: a clear account of what the substance does, a recognition that stopping is hard, and practical support for the weeks when it is hardest.

If you are using hashish regularly and you are wondering whether it is affecting you, I would suggest a simple test, and it is one you can do without telling anyone. Look back over the last year or two and ask yourself a few honest questions. Is your memory as good as it was? Can you concentrate for as long as you used to? Do you sleep well without it? Are you as interested in your work, your friends and your family as you were? Are you spending money on it that you would rather spend on something else? You do not need to answer yes to all of them. Even one or two honest yeses are enough to suggest that the habit is costing you more than it is giving you, and that it is worth thinking about what to do next.

Stopping is hard, and I will not pretend otherwise. The first week is usually the worst, with poor sleep, irritability and strong cravings, especially in the evenings when you would normally use it. But the first week passes, and the second is usually easier. Sleep begins to improve, even if the dreams are vivid for a while. Thinking begins to sharpen. Food begins to taste better. The money that was going on hashish begins to stay in your pocket. These are small changes, but they are real, and they are the kind of changes that make it easier to keep going. If you can get through the first month, you will have a much clearer sense of what your life is like without it, and that clarity is worth more than any promise I could make.

Support makes a real difference, and I would urge anyone who wants to stop to use it. That might mean talking to a doctor, who can explain what to expect and who can help if low mood or anxiety makes stopping harder. It might mean talking to a family member or a friend, not to confess, but to ask for help on the hard evenings. It might mean joining a support group, where you can hear from people who have been through the same thing and who understand how it feels. There is no shame in asking for help. The shame would be in struggling alone when help is available, and in letting a habit that can be changed go on costing you years of your life.

I would also say something to the families. If someone you love is using hashish regularly and you can see the change, do not wait for a crisis. Talk to them early, and talk to them kindly. Tell them what you have noticed, not as an accusation, but as an observation: that they seem quieter, that they seem less interested, that you miss the person they were. Offer to help, and mean it. A person who feels judged will hide. A person who feels loved will listen. You cannot make someone stop, and it is painful to accept that, but you can make it easier for them to choose to stop, and you can be there when they do.

One more thing I have learned from listening to people who stopped after years of use is that the hardest part is rarely the physical craving. The hardest part is the evenings. For years, the evening had a shape: a certain chair, a certain time, a certain feeling, and hashish was part of that shape. When the substance is gone, the evening feels empty, and the emptiness can feel worse than any craving. The people who succeed are usually the ones who give the evening a new shape, not the ones who simply sit in the old shape and try to resist. They cook a proper meal, they go for a walk, they visit a friend, they read, they pray, they do something with their hands. The new shape does not need to be impressive. It needs to be real, and it needs to happen at the same time of day when the old habit used to happen, so that the evening is filled with something rather than left empty. Over weeks, the new shape becomes familiar, and the old one fades, and that is how a habit is actually replaced rather than merely resisted.

I think it is also worth talking about the way long-term use changes a person’s view of themselves. A person who has used hashish for years often describes feeling less sure of who they are without it. They are not sure how they would relax, how they would sleep, how they would handle a bad day, or even how they would spend an evening, because for years the answer to all of those questions was the same. That is a frightening feeling, and it keeps many people using long after they have stopped enjoying it. But it is also a feeling that passes. People who stop often discover, over a few months, that they can do all of those things without the substance, and that they do them better. They learn to cook a meal properly, to enjoy a walk, to have a conversation that lasts an hour, to fall asleep after a tiring day. None of those things is dramatic, but together they add up to a life that feels like their own again, rather than a life that belongs to a habit.

There is a practical point I would make to anyone who is weighing the cost. Add up what you spend in a month, and then multiply it by twelve, and then by five. The number is usually larger than people expect, and it is money that could have gone to something that lasts: a course of study, a better home, a holiday with family, savings for a difficult time. I am not saying money is the most important thing. I am saying it is the easiest thing to count, and counting it makes the cost real in a way that vague worries do not. When a person sees that they have spent the price of a small car over five years on something that made their memory weaker and their mood flatter, the decision to stop becomes clearer. It is not about guilt. It is about seeing the trade clearly, for the first time, and deciding whether it is a trade you would make again if you knew the price in advance.

I would also urge people not to confuse feeling calm with being well. Hashish can make a person feel calm, and that feeling is pleasant, but calm is not the same as health. A person can feel calm and still have poor sleep, weak lungs, a flat mood and a narrowing life. The calm is a feeling, and feelings can mislead. Health is a wider thing: it is the ability to think clearly, to sleep well, to work steadily, to enjoy the company of others, and to plan for the future. If a substance gives you the feeling of calm while taking away those other things, it is not making you well. It is masking the fact that you are becoming less well, and the mask gets thinner each year. Taking the mask off is uncomfortable, but it is the only way to see clearly what needs to change.

And if you have already stopped, even for a week or a month, I want you to notice what has already changed. Your mornings may be a little clearer. Your sleep may be a little deeper. You may have a little more money in your pocket, and a little more patience with the people around you. Those changes are easy to dismiss as small, but they are the beginning of the recovery I have described, and they are worth protecting. Do not wait for a dramatic improvement to feel proud of what you have done. The small improvements are the real ones, and they are the reason to keep going, one day at a time, until the clearer mornings and the steadier mood become your normal life again.

Finally, I want to say this to anyone who has never used hashish and is thinking about trying it. The relaxation is real, and the people who offer it to you are not lying about that. But they are not telling you the whole story, because the whole story takes years to tell. The whole story is the slow narrowing of memory, mood, sleep, work and relationships that I have described here. It is not a horror story. It is a quiet one, and that is what makes it dangerous. You can avoid it entirely by not starting, and that is the simplest and most effective choice you will ever make about this substance. The first use feels like nothing special. The hundredth use is a habit. Walk away from the first one, and you will never have to find your way back from the hundredth.

Frequently Asked Questions

Is hashish dangerous when used over a long time?

Yes, long-term use of hashish carries real risks, especially with regular use. Health authorities link it with poorer memory and concentration, low mood and anxiety, disturbed sleep, breathing problems, and a higher risk of dependence and, for some people, psychosis. The risk varies from person to person and is higher for heavy users, for those who start young, and for those with a family history of mental illness.

What should I do if hashish is affecting my health?

The safest step is to stop using hashish and speak to a doctor or a local health service about what you are experiencing. A health professional can talk through the symptoms, explain what to expect when stopping, and point you towards support for recovery. You do not need to wait until the problem becomes severe before asking for help.

Who is most at risk from the long-term effects of hashish?

People who use hashish often or in larger amounts face the highest risk, and teenagers, people with existing mental health problems, people with breathing or heart problems, and those who mix it with tobacco face extra risk. A family history of psychosis or other serious mental illness also raises the risk, and starting young is one of the strongest risk factors of all.

Do the long-term effects of hashish go away after stopping?

Some effects ease after stopping, while others take much longer to improve. Memory, concentration and sleep often improve over weeks and months, and mood usually lifts as the brain readjusts. Effects that built up over many years, especially for people who started young, may improve more slowly and may not fully reverse, which is why stopping sooner gives the best chance of recovery.

Can hashish really cause lasting harm?

Yes, it can. While many people use it without obvious lasting harm, regular heavy use over years is linked with lasting changes in memory, mood and motivation, with chronic breathing problems, and with dependence. For a minority, it is also linked with psychosis. The harm is usually slow and cumulative rather than sudden, which is why it is easy to underestimate until it has built up.

How soon can long-term effects appear after using hashish?

The first signs can appear within weeks for some people and after months for others. Memory slips, poorer sleep and lower motivation often show early with regular use, while breathing problems and deeper changes in mood tend to build over months and years. With hashish, regular use over a few months is often enough for the first signs to show, and they tend to grow stronger the longer use continues.

Sources

• National Institute on Drug Abuse — https://nida.nih.gov/research-topics/cannabis
• U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration — https://www.dea.gov/drug-information
• Mayo Clinic, Drug addiction — https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/drug-addiction/symptoms-causes/syc-20365112
• World Health Organization, Substance abuse — https://www.who.int/health-topics/substance-abuse
• NHS, Drug addiction: getting help — https://www.nhs.uk/live-well/addiction-support/drug-addiction-getting-help/

This article is general information only. It is not medical advice. If you are worried about your health or about someone else, speak to a qualified health professional.