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“The psychotic drowns in the same waters in which the mystic swims with delight.” – Joseph Campbell

[I’m choosing to share my personal experience in hopes that it helps keep someone grounded when they seem to have temporarily lost their way. That is the sole reason you are reading this. This is not my attempt to “play doctor” or discuss how one should be trying to manage a psychotic episode. If you or someone you know should find yourself in these turbulent waters, seek out professional help immediately.]

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THE DOORS WILL OPEN FOR THOSE WHO KNOCK

I remember the moment like it was yesterday.

I was driving home from work, stuck in bumper to bumper traffic, and I started to pray: “Dear God, whoever or whatever is listening (maybe my first mistake), I’m looking for a mentor of sorts. I’m ready to take the next step and I need help.” That wasn’t the exact prayer, but you get gist.

With every ounce of my being, I meant what I said. I was at a turning point in my life where I felt that I couldn’t continue to stay where I was. I was so tired of constantly circling back to the same thought loops that I couldn’t seem to get out of no matter how hard I tried. I needed change––I wanted to change and to go toe to toe with what troubled me most––but I couldn’t do it alone. I knew that much.

I couldn’t make this next part up if I tried.

Within a week, a regular client of mine randomly called me and said:

“Hey, remember when we talked about that client of mine who I said is involved in…that thing (psychedelic-assisted psychotherapy)?” 

“Yeah, I think,” I said. (I had no fucking clue what they were talking about.)

“Well, I just worked on them the other day and they told me to give you their number so you can reach out to them about that thing.”

As if that wasn’t weird enough, my client and I talked about it months, maybe even a year prior. 

It’s just coincidence, Justin.  

First, eat shit. Second, eat more shit.

There are moments in life where, yes, I’ll be the first to admit that something could be pure coincidence––even though in my heart of hearts, I feel that everything happens how it’s supposed to––but then there are these moments. These moments defy reason, logic, analytics, and whatever lameo western metric you want to use to keep yourself comfortably cemented in the left brain. Nerd.

Best part is, I’m going to go out on a limb and say, you, the one who is reading these words at this very moment, even you have had an experience that no matter how hard you tried to brush it off as pure coincidence, that just didn’t sit right with you.

Ah, but it’s our rational mind that needs certainty. Only if you could know 100% without a shadow of a doubt, then, then you would believe. Then all would be right in the world as the idea that maybe there’s more to life than just the physical could be put to rest.

But it doesn’t work that way and it never will. The jig would be up if it did.

Within weeks, me and my guide had set up a time and day to meet where we would discuss everything in detail a little more. Upon meeting, I was told that it worked in stages. First, we would start out with MDMA; my next session (whenever I would choose to do so) would be psilocybin; ending with ketamine. Everything checked out and no part of me had any distrust towards my guide. I actually felt really comfortable with them, and I left that day with a spot on the calendar for my first MDMA-assisted psychotherapy session.

THE SESSION

The room at my place had been set up the day before and all that was left to do was wait for the guide to show up at 10 am the following morning. Nerves and excitement coursed through my body as they walked through the door and instantly, we began to get situated. 

We started off by going through a series of prayers, asking different spirits and allies for guidance and support for what laid ahead. Next came the sage, some good old sage. My guide handed me the sage, instructing me to trace my body with it as if I was outlining myself.  

With a proper sage session sealing the deal, my guide handed me the MDMA and said they would step out for about 30 minutes. Roughly the time it takes to kick in.

When done with zero distractions and the intention to purely turn inwards, the journey of a psychedelic turns into an entirely new experience. Thankfully I had been here before, thanks to past solo journeys. I was nervous like most people are when taking a psychedelic, even if done multiple times, but I wasn’t afraid.

The session itself shared similar characteristics to those previous solo journeys that I had experienced while on MDMA, psilocybin, and LSD. You are brought to some of the highest highs as well as the lowest lows. There’s absolutely no hiding from yourself. It all comes to light, and in the end, you usually walk away with an experience where words fall short 9 out of 10 times. You’re left humbled, yet full of gratitude. All the good and bad in your life has been wrung out and you’re left anew. 

While the true aftermath of psychosis was to come just days after the session, the session itself was pretty standard, except for three standout moments. 

The first moment came when I heard a particular song. The literal second it came on, it felt as if the song was designed to target certain areas within the body that needed healing. Or at least that was my perception of it. For me, it instantly brought my attention to an area in my chest where I’ve felt that I have held tension for years. 

[A big part of the psychedelic experience is running into synesthesia, which is essentially when your senses begin to blend. You can see sounds, hear colors, and feel taste. 

Sounds wild? That’s psychedelics for you.]

Anyway, for me, this happens often. When my attention was brought to the area in my chest, I first felt, then saw, a black ball of sludge that felt dimensions or life time’s deep. That’s the best way that I could describe that experience. I instantly grabbed my chest and kept repeating, “I want this out of me, I want this out of me, I want this out of me.” as I could feel its parasitic nature.

The second moment led me to one of the most important mantras of my life: “Less thinking, more feeling.“

I found myself coming up against a wave of intense emotions that were asking to be fully felt. As I began to try and let them move through me, it all started to feel too much. My body became instantly flushed with heat and I watched all my muscles start to constrict out of fear which in turn sent my thoughts into a frenzy. 

Almost like a computer with a virus making ad after ad pop up, this onset of fear would do the same; except the ‘ads’ were my thoughts. It was as if they were instructed to keep me away from the true source of my pain.

[This experience of ‘the ads’ is something that I encountered years prior through meditation. The mind will do anything in its power to keep us away from past pain. Truthfully, that’s what I think Dyslexia, Alzheimier’s, Dementia, ADD, ADHD, and any other cognitive neurosis are. Rather than having a clear stream of consciousness and being able to think straight, the mind jumbles the thoughts to distract us from our past trauma––I digress.] 

But this time around, it was like a voice cut through all the chaos and said, “less thinking, more feeling.”

The more I said it, the calmer I got. The moments where I slipped and let my attention get away from me, firing up the onslaught of thoughts again, I would revert to the mantra. It became my anchor. (We’re going to jump back to this moment during my anecdotal theories as I believe it was part of what led me towards my psychosis.)

The third and final moment came on early on in the session, but it is, what I feel to be the biggest catalyst towards my psychosis.

The day before, Jenny and I had taken the frame off our mattress. That way just the mattress could be on the floor for the session. When we walked by it after a couple of hours of it being outside, there were a bunch of crickets inside it (that’ll get your blood pumping real quick). We went on to have a talk about crickets after that and then for whatever reason, they had been on my mind for the better part of the day.

Well, during the session, I hear my guide say, “We have a visitor with us. It’s a cricket.” 

What are the odds of a cricket coming into my session after everything that happened the day before? Well, pretty good since they’re all around the house. This was enough for my brain to not accept it as just coincidence, but rather saw it as a sign. A sign that my guide knew what we had talked about the day before.

It didn’t send me into a frenzy at that moment, but it was the tipping point for me.

Besides the three moments, as I said, the session was pretty standard. Intense, but standard. After coming down, for the most part, my guide and I talked for a little while. They made me lunch, made sure I was ok, and they left. To say I was exhausted would be an understatement. Trevor Hall’s new album at the time, and the sounds and sights of the birds at the bird bath would be my saving grace as I sat out back and tried to process everything.

I knew that something within that session forever changed how I would see the world. In a way, there was no “putting the toothpaste back into the tube.” I just didn’t know to what extent this new perspective was about to cost me.

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Part 1

Part 3

I’ve also done a podcast with my therapist speaking about my time during psychosis. The episode mostly goes over the safety aspect, as this series will focus more on my story. Regardless, you can listen to that episode here if you want more information all things psychedelics and safety

And lastly, I feel that many others may have had a psychotic break of sorts whether it be from drugs or something entirely different. I know that a subject like this isn’t what you go screaming to the world and is heavily stigmatized. If you have never properly talked about it with someone or have always felt ashamed, I am here to talk. Before reaching out to me I’d suggest a therapist, but after that I’m always around to talk and you can either email at jalito526@hotmail.com, or slid on into my DM’s, bay-bee.

Much Love guys and thanks for reading.

Edited by: Patricia Hendriks