Fitting into Place - A Ketamine Psychedelic Therapy Experience

Last month, the US had its presidential election - the months leading up to it, and results of the election itself, were deeply unsettling for me and my family. Being in a queer, non-traditional relationship (one of us being a person of color, and an immigrant) it was easy to feel out-of-place to begin with in this country. We have become adept at navigating a complex and sometimes adversarial culture, dealing with homophobia and racism at some points. We leaned on friends and family when needed, but mostly blazed our own trail ahead. Despite the difficulties we've experienced, we thought we knew where we were going - that we were in control.

But, as we watched the results come in that night, our concerned faces illuminated by our phone screens, seeing our blue county flip to red, the path we were on suddenly felt dangerous. Now, it felt like the table had been flipped, that our sense of safety, our sense that decency could win out, had evaporated.

The next day, I tried to project some normalcy at work. I joined my calls, as usual. Had the same conversations, as usual. Until I joined a team-wide meeting, where we were all told that our contract was not being renewed after the new year and that we may not have jobs in January. It was just the icing on a horrible cake.

I have dealt with layoffs before, and I have dealt with losing elections before - but this time, things felt different. This time, to me, it felt like the message was clear. You are not welcome. You are not safe. You are not accepted.

I have also dealt with these feelings before, and had a plan for helping myself navigate them. I have been taking ketamine as part of a self-care therapeutic practice - and have had some experience with other psychedelics in the same context. I've been very thankful that this medicine is available, as it's been shown to consistently improve outcomes in mental health - and this is especially helpful in working through trauma.

A ketamine journey may have you confronting some difficult feelings head-on. Journeys can be hard. That said, the medicine can also help to let these challenges feel useful. Ketamine has been shown to help quiet the default mode network - the part of the brain that may feel like it's constantly active. This brain chatter in the form of rumination or worry can make it difficult to see ways through challenges or traumas. When it is quieted, new paths can emerge - new ways of thinking about your difficulties, new ways of thinking about yourself.

After the election, after being laid off, I was afraid how my next ketamine journey would be. Would it just be a rehash of all of the bad news and unfortunate events of the past week? Would it provide the relief I felt I needed? I couldn't imagine having a positive, meditative, helpful experience after a week like this one.

Luckily, one of my partners is a ketamine assisted psychotherapist. He reminded me that even if a journey is vague, or difficult, the medicine is still doing its work after you take it - helping to repair neural pathways in your brain, helping you to have a shift in perspective. I went ahead with my journey as planned, and I'm very glad I did.

The day of my journey, I tried to keep my mind quiet, to focus on breathing, spend some time outside, do a bit of gardening, and avoiding the news on my phone (this took some effort).

I planned on beginning my journey as the sun went down, so I only ate a light breakfast in the morning, and drank plenty of water throughout the day. An hour before my journey, I walked around the house, burning sage and palo santo. This practice helps set the stage for my journey - the fragrant smoke floating effortlessly through the rooms feels like an atmospheric 'reset'.

Once this was done, I prepared my journey space. I laid fresh sheets and blankets on my bed, made sure I had my eye mask handy, my journal and a fresh glass of water beside me. My partner prepared a journey playlist for me, filled with calm and soothing music and sounds, so I made sure I had the 'good' headphones ready and working (always make sure you're able to comfortably listen to the journey music, and test everything ahead of time, so you or your trip sitter are not doing tech support during your journey).

Before I took my dose of ketamine, I took my blood pressure, and sat for 10-20 minutes by myself to journal. I wrote out my intentions for my journey, about the challenges of the week, but also the things I felt gratitude for.

As I took the medicine, put on my headphones and eyemask, I laid back comfortably, and tried to focus on taking deep breaths, as I felt the journey begin.

I sensed what must be my default mode network quieting, the internal chatter beginning to subside little by little. My body felt like it was shifting slightly, at first, then gradually began to feel as if it were moving, gliding through space.

As I glided, visions began to coalesce behind my eye mask. I saw vignettes of familiar scenes from the week before - an image of the news anchor saying another state had been declared in the election, then an image of my coworkers faces as we were told we were loosing our jobs. I was feeling the medicine working, but I could not but help feel anxious. I saw a wall of doubt, fear, shame forming in front of me, inescapable.

Then as I glided toward this wall, it parted before me like a dust cloud passing by. What was beyond was a clear field of brightness and warmth. As I saw the feelings of being rejected, of being unsafe, fade away behind me, I was granted with an overwhelming feeling of assurance that I was, in fact, accepted. That I was worthy of happiness. That I was capable of change.

The visions changed, too. I saw myself folding, adapting, reconstituting into new shapes. Fitting into place with a degree of exactitude that it brought tears to my eyes. I was like a puzzle piece, perfectly formed, sliding into place. I felt truly, genuinely affirmed, validated, accepted.

As my journey gradually came to an end, I felt myself descend back down into my body. As I took off my headphones, lifted my eye mask, I knew that nothing around me had changed. The election had still happened. I was still going to loose my job. But I knew that I had changed. I felt better, rejuvenated, even, at having faced projections of my fears and gone through them. I remembered that things work out. That I have faced adversity before, and made it through.