Changing my mind-Pt.2

 I had planned on using the psilocybin on a Sunday afternoon. I was going to finish with a client at 3, and then just spend the rest of the day focusing on my little experiment in mental health. But as things often do, the week kind of went sideways pretty quick, and I found myself desperately in need of a break of some kind. So my Sunday plan now became my Saturday plan. Because I felt that if this was going to work at all, the sooner the better. 

I admit to being what used to be called a teetotaler. Which means I don't really drink much, if at all, and I have never used any kind of controlled substance. So yes, there was a degree of nervousness in doing something like this. Not to mention the fact I was choosing to do it all on my own, without someone to oversee the process, or even just keep me company in case things got a little too intense while I was under. But the truth is, I felt like I had to face this on my own. And I felt like I understood enough to feel like I wasn't in any real danger by not having a person there with me. 

I set up my bedroom to be as comfortable as possible. My music was programmed into my phone, headphones charged, and an eye mask to help me go as deep as possible for as long as I would be under. With all this being done, I dropped the mushrooms into a tall glass of water, held my nose, and downed it as fast as I could. It was kind of gross. 

Once I had drank the entire glass, I lied down on the bed, put my headphones on my head, and covered my eyes. I think a big part of my nervousness was the idea that I would be giving up control, even for a few hours. The thoughts and feelings that were locked up inside of me, were about to be given free reign. But because I was committed to see this through, I told myself that it was best to lie back and not resist anything that was about to happen. It was both the best, and scariest advice I have ever given myself. 

It took about thirty minutes for the mushrooms to kick in. All at once was a kaleidoscope of colors going on under my mask. Even with my eyes closed, I saw all types of morphing shapes and colors. Never once holding still for more than a second or two, before hitting me with a different formation or color. It reminded me of the Claymation cartoons of my childhood. Everything fluid and constantly in motion. 

I had heard of people having nightmarish visions of demons and other creatures, or even picturing their own deaths. But having an Old Testament devoted dad, I have seen my share of pictures depicting what Satan is supposed to look like, so that really didn't worry me. And I have felt for a long time that I have died and come back to the world more than once, so that didn't scare me either. So lucky for me, it was all bright colors and clay figures. 

Once I started to really go under, I started to really hear my music. Again, this was slightly different than the way the studies were done, because I purposely chose my own music to try and elicit emotions. And boy, did it work. Within the first 45 minutes, I found myself in tears. Not just crying, but crying hysterically. A song came on that reminded me of my dad, and I found myself calling out to him. Another reminded me of an ex, the next my late best friend, and on, and on. I found myself talking to each person individually and dealing with whatever feelings were still left inside me regarding that person. And believe me, there were plenty of feelings to go around for a lot of people. But all of that talking to ghosts help me realize just how much trauma I had been dealing with in my life over the last several years. And that I have never really been able to fully deal with the cumulative effect of all that damage. 

For three hours I was overwhelmed with all of the emotions that I had seemed to hold down for the last several years. And I began to hash out every regret, mistake, and relationship that seemed to cross my mind. Including feelings of simply not being loved, or having love in my life. The answer to that last one came once I lifted my mask for just a moment. I realized that both of my dogs had positioned themselves directly next to me, and would stay there for the whole process. And as silly as it may seem, it really did drive home the point that I do have love in my life. And exactly the kind I was hoping for. But because we sometimes get so caught up in what we think we need, I was completely overlooking it. 

By the time I started to come around again, I was exhausted. My mask was now completely stained with tears, and I was somewhere between feeling wiped out, and almost euphoric. I realized a couple of things as soon as I started coming out of my "trip". The first being that "trip" isn't a word that really describes what was happening. Especially in the context of the people who first used that word. It was definitely a journey, but much more of the therapeutic kind than anything else. The second thing I realized was that I had done this exactly the way I needed to. The music, the isolation, everything. The way I did it enabled me to face so many fears, insecurities, and anger formed over so many years, that I wouldn't change one thing. 

The third thing it helped me see, was that the majority of my issues don't come from just the medical condition of mental illness. Don't get me wrong, I know that there is still a chemical issue, or a wiring issue in my brain that makes dealing with certain things difficult. And I legitimately have dealt with ADHD, OCD, and other issues. But once I started to come to, I realized immediately the effect that all of the trauma I have been through has had on my life. And to be frank, some of my first memories were of things that would only be described as traumatic. Physical abuse, assault, emotional abuse, and loss. From the very beginning they were there, and almost started to feel commonplace in my head. And in the period before moving to Texas, I lost both of my parents, my best friend, and the only aunt in my family that I was close to. I also lost my home, got a divorce, and was laid off from three jobs, all in the space of less than three years. Not to mention being homeless for a short time once I actually got to Dallas. 

It sounds crazy to think that all of those years of grief, and trauma, and anger, and sadness could all be dealt with in three hours or so, but it wasn't about dealing with every single item as it happened. It was more about dealing with the fact that it was all there, and going through the process of forgiving the people at the heart of it. Especially if that meant forgiving myself. 

It has been three weeks now since I first used the first dose. As per most of the research I have read, I followed up with another "hero" dose, six days later. While it was nowhere nears as intense as the first, I found it interesting that while the first dosage found me dealing with the past, the second found me focusing on the future, and just what I want to see from it. I have had a couple of slight bouts of anxiety, but I found myself able to deal with it and get out in front of whatever was bothering me. 

As for depression, I have had a couple of "down" moments, but I wouldn't categorize them as depression in the way I have become familiar with the feeling. I have been able to rally myself and feel confident moving forward again. I also no longer have that "foggy" feeling in the front of my brain anymore. I have been way more productive as well. Proof of that being in the fact that I have now banged out this entire story in two days. Something that would have seemed impossible just a few weeks ago. 

It sounds odd to me to say an experience with a hallucinogenic drug was life changing, but for me it has been. And it's certainly not something I would have ever imagined happening. And even though I could wish for to have come along sooner, I am just happy that it's happened at all. I'm glad to have this fog finally lifted.

Changing my mind - Pt. 1

  I poured the contents of the plastic bag into a glass of water. The apple flavored electrolyte solution I put in my water bottle would provide enough flavor to somewhat distract me from the odd smelling substance I was sprinkling in. I had been given many ways to ingest it. Make a tea of it one person said. Cover it with peanut butter, or chocolate, or even hot sauce and just down it in one bite. But since I didn't know how to make a tea of it, and I really wanted to avoid tasting it at all costs, simply putting it in a glass of water and holding my nose seemed to be the quickest and simplest approach. And I have always been a fan of the simplest approach. 

A little backstory:

I have had depression since I was 16. At least I think that's right. Or at least depression as I have come to know it. I am certain there were other issues, or bouts of anxiety before that. But it was at 16 that I had my first full on emotional breakdown, so I would call that the beginning of it all. 

Of course, like a lot of people, I wouldn't really begin to understand what I was dealing with until much later. In my early 20's I started to understand about depression, ADHD, anxiety, Social anxiety disorder, and PTSD, and even the slight degree of OCD that I had. It was a bit shocking to hear I was dealing with any of these issues, let alone all of them. But once I did know, I became committed to learning what I could about my mental health and how to deal with it.

I started going to my first therapist at 22. My mom paid for it, in more ways than one. Because it didn't take many sessions for my therapist to come to the conclusion that my mom was the heart of a lot of my issues. But that's another story. I have been going to therapy on and off for 27 years now, and honestly don't know where I would be without it. But it can only do so much. Which is why, like everyone else, I eventually turned to medication to try and help me defeat this monster inside my head. But nothing I took ever really made me feel better. As a matter of fact, medication almost made things worse. At one point I was taking one medication for depression, another for ADHD, and yet another to sleep. But because even regular sleep meds can't seem to knock me out, I was having to take 1 mg of Klonopin every night. Which if you know what that is, you know how bad a time I was having trying to sleep. 

But all of those meds only made me feel drowsy and sluggish. Which is not at all what I was hoping for. And they didn't really make me actually feel better in anyway. They actually made me so drowsy that I would eventually run a red light and total my car. Which would lead to me finally doing away with any and all meds at that point. 

The best way to describe my depression is that there is almost a fog at the front of my brain that sticks with me all day. And when I am distressed or sad, it gets worse. I feel like I can hardly think straight or function normally. And all I can think about is how badly I want that feeling to go away. Which brings us back to the contents of that plastic bag. 

The contents of the bag was approximately 3.5 grams of psilocybin. Or as it's more commonly known, "magic mushrooms". I never imagined I would find myself alone in my bedroom on a Saturday night using magic mushrooms, but desperate times call for unique measures. 

I first heard about mushrooms being used to treat depression about two years ago. 60 Minutes did a story about researchers at Johns Hopkins University using psychedelic drugs to help alleviate mental health issues, and what the results of those tests seem to show. They would have a patient lie in a room on a couch with their eyes covered by a mask and headphones over their ears. The headphones would be playing some type of calming music, and there would be a therapist in the room with them while they went through their "trip". They would then dose the person a second time within a 5-6 period, and check in with them periodically after that to see what kind of results they would have. 

After six months, most subjects came back with little to no signs of depression or anxiety. And those that still had some issues, reported only minor occurrences at best. 

This was the first time I had heard of these studies, but it wouldn't be the last. There was also a story about athletes using psychedelics to deal with the onset of CTE, which is what happens when the brain becomes damaged by too many blows to the head. And then I would happen upon a book by a guy named Michael Pollan called "How to change your mind". 

In the book, Pollan went through the entire scientific(and not so scientific) history of psychedelic drugs. From the earliest known uses, to the accidental discovery of LSD, to the infamous Timothy Leary studies at Harvard in the 60's. He covered the studies of mushrooms, LSD, marijuana, and Ecstasy. Even going so far as to subject himself as a guinea pig in the uses of each of these drugs, according to the guidelines set by the institutions studying them. 

After going through all the information at my disposal, I felt the time had come to give it a try myself. Now here's the thing, I have never done any kind of recreation drug before. Never had the interest, never will. But if it really is possible that using one of these could actually "fix" my brain, I just didn't feel like I could pass on the chance. I even brought the idea up to my current therapist, who surprised me by giving me her wholehearted blessing to give it a shot. 

Once I found someone who could supply me with the mushrooms, I needed to figure out how and when I would use them. I decided to mimic the Johns Hopkins studies as best I could. But instead of just pumping generic music to my headphones, I decided to make a playlist just for the occasion. I wanted the music to help generate emotional responses, so I curated a playlist of songs that had special meaning to me, a "soundtrack" of my life, if you will. In an effort to encourage the subjects to go as far inward on their journey as possible, the researchers covered their eyes as well, so I bought an eye mask to help me keep my mind focused on what was ahead. 

Having never even considered doing something like this before, I was a little nervous going in. But considering how high the stakes felt by this point, there was no way I wasn't going to try. The worst case scenario for me had nothing to do with a "bad trip", or even something harmful happening. No, for me the worst case would be that it wouldn't help me at all, and I would come out of it with the same struggles as before.