I ditched alcohol for the ‘mummy treat’ drug that’s becoming more popular than cocaine. Here’s exactly what happened – and the hidden signs your school-gate social circle are using it

It was a friend of mine who first told me this. We were drinking wine at a bar, but not enough to explain the slight redness around his eyes. Is it hay fever, I asked? ‘No,’ he replied with a grin, ‘gummies.’

Frankly, it’s not the kind of model your kids can fit into a party bag. Also known as ‘edibles’, these gummies contain THC, a psychoactive compound also found in cannabis.

‘That’s a lot of giggling,’ he told me. ‘You just have to be careful how much you take.

‘It takes a while for the effect to occur, so try taking a bite, wait an hour and see how you feel.’

He gave me a transparent package and inside was a large jelly teddy bear shape. It looked like the kind of thing my seven-year-old could eat, so when I got home I hid it in the shed, in a vase, wrapped in foil, and on the highest shelf.

These are not to be confused with CBD gummies, which are infused with tamer cannabidiol oil and are used to help combat stress. These can be found in any pharmacy on the High Street, whereas THC gummies are strictly illegal and sold on social media, often targeting foolish teenagers.

But now it’s all the rage for West London mums looking for the ‘buzz’.

Its effects, I have since discovered, appear to be largely dose-dependent, ranging from a general feeling of relaxation to powerful, dangerously altered sensory perception, whole-body sedation, and devastating paranoia. They are not class B drugs for nothing.

I am a chronic overthinker (aren’t we all these days?) and often struggle with social anxiety. When my friend introduced me to gummies, a dessert-like giggle-inducing drug seemed like a fun way to spend an evening.

As a friend’s 50th birthday approached, I had no doubt that I would run into many people I hadn’t seen in years.

Normally I’d find this in prosecco (hedonic fuel for most mums) but I’m not very good at knowing when to stop and my hangovers have become crippling in recent years.

For some reason I thought these gummies were easier to control and might have a more relaxing effect.

This was before I heard the gummy nightmare stories that emerged when I whispered to other mom friends if they had tried them. One told me he popped gum at a wedding, and the other told me he lost control of his bowels to get through endless conversations.

The entire wedding party witnessed his ill-fated, red-eyed and stumbling towards the toilet.

Another friend of mine said that she once took too much and became so paranoid that she thought everyone could see that she had herpes. So during his own dinner party, he hid in the garage and didn’t come out for an hour.

These stories should have been enough to keep me busy, but I believe Generation X is the most experimental generation when it comes to drugs, and I did my fair share in college. I know this isn’t right or wise.

On the day of the party at a local bar, butterflies were flying around as I thought about buying some gum. I was going to follow my friend’s advice and take some time to see how I felt first.

I entered the hut, broke half of my teddy bear, and put it in my pocket, wrapped in kitchen paper. This was quite a large amount, and I hoped it would be enough to make me feel more at ease. Maybe I can even dance: I used to love dancing, but I rarely do it anymore.

I chewed about half of my test gum at the bar. People around me were drinking and there was a DJ playing classic 1990s music. I didn’t feel anything. An old friend and I chatted about our kids and an hour later I still wasn’t feeling much, so I took the rest.

Half an hour later I started feeling disoriented, as if I had drank a bottle of prosecco too quickly. But because I was drinking, I wasn’t even the slightest talkative. Quite the opposite: I felt left out and distant, and retreated to a seat at the side of the room.

Since my partner isn’t a fan of big parties and doesn’t know any of these old friends, I would come alone. Someone I knew from university now caught my eye; He was standing on the sidelines, holding a helium balloon that said ‘YOU ARE 50’ and swaying slightly. I wanted to ask him if he bought gum too and if we could be gum buddies, but someone called him a taxi and he disappeared.

I’d like to say I had the most epic night, all my inhibitions went out the window, I flirted (playfully) with my friend’s husband, and had some truly insightful conversations – but I ended up sitting in that corner just staring at people.

Throughout the evening, a few friends came up to me to ask how I was doing; but I could only nod silently, having apparently lost the capacity to speak.

God knows what they made of it.

it wasn’t me Negative enjoy the experience. I guess I felt calm and pretty happy, but the whole point of the night was to socialize and I… wasn’t.

As the night progressed, the woman who gave me gum at the wine bar came to talk to me. ‘Are you feeling nice and cold?’ he asked. There was a little red in his eyes. Oh help me, I thought, did I have this too?

“I’m not sure it’s the buzz I’m looking for,” I said. ‘This just distracts me from the situation.’

‘Maybe you should have some more?’ he said. ‘It probably isn’t working.’

We went to the toilet together and I bit one of his gums. Looking back, it seemed ridiculous, as if we were 14 years old.

Then he dragged me onto the dance floor and for a while I lost myself in the music, not caring if people were watching, and undoubtedly acted wilder than usual.

This would later create more retrospective embarrassment on Prosecco than anything I’ve ever done. So I softly flirted with the bartender but stopped when she asked me if I was ‘feeling good’.

That’s when the paranoia started. Did I look weird? I went back to the bathroom and examined my reflection. I looked sweaty. My hair was curly. My pupils were larger than normal. I honestly felt like an idiot – and that constant inner critic started not only nagging but screaming in my ear. What a fool I had made of myself.

Half an hour later I called an Uber (I realized I couldn’t fully focus on the app and had trouble finding the car when I got out).

When I returned home, the kids were in bed and my wife was fast asleep. I didn’t tell him about the gum because I knew he would scold me; He often tells me that I should be less impulsive.

At midnight I went to the shed, took the vase off the shelf, took the rest of the gum, and threw it at the bottom of the trash can at home.

I didn’t have a physical hangover the next day, but this paranoia hung over me for a week, like anxiety of the worst, strongest kind.

Looking back, I didn’t really like THC gummies, but I realized they were becoming more and more popular. A friend told me about a Home Counties dinner party where the host provided gum for all the guests. I can’t quite imagine what this is like; Did they all look at each other with slack jaws and then go home?

It’s not exactly cheap; I was told it costs £45 per sachet of ten gummies, but I think it can calm your nervous system if you dose it right.

But at what risk? Like all illicit drugs, you don’t really know what you’re taking, and as far as side effects go, having a bad time at a party—or, God help us, a sudden loosening of your bowels—may actually be the least of them.

I think I’ll stick to the CBD gummies I can buy on the High Street. Or maybe I can play with my kids’ Haribo completely safely.

• Fran Borman is a pseudonym. All names and identification information have been changed.