Finding Forgiveness: A Psychedelic Trauma Healing Journey

The Reason

After my sister’s death in January of 2022 and her father, my stepfather, six months later, I began a journey of the self that culminated in many revelations about my family history. My eyes were opened to the abuse we endured for our whole lives which climaxed with their deaths and the rapid decline of my mother into mental illness. I struggled with guilt, shame, anxiety and depression, and severe loss of self. I have written about it extensively here:

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I have been using cannabis for many years to manage my sobriety and the subsequent mental health struggles that reared their ugly head once alcohol was removed as my coping mechanism. However, after my sister’s death and the realization of the emotional, verbal, and physical abuse that we were subjected to, my emotional state became overwhelming, and cannabis was not enough. I was experiencing severe panic attacks, terrible sleep and dreams, and was in a perpetual state of depression. The guilt and shame of not being there for my sister at her end were beating me down with excessive rumination of what could have been, should have been.

After reading some promising studies and material related to psilocybin therapy, I reached out to a friend and counselor who had been working with psychedelic therapy for the last 10 years. I began the intake process for a serious full-day psychedelic therapy experience and to help mitigate some of this unique type of grief, I started incorporating microdose levels of mushrooms. It was helping. I was dosing about 100mg every third day and taking about a gram to do a serotonin reset once a month. However, just before dose day, things would be difficult. I would not sleep well, and anxiety and sadness would creep in. The rumination would start again, and I would lose myself in grief and low self-worth. Unfortunately, once some laws changed in Canada regarding the use of psychedelics for therapy, my friend elected to stop the therapy so she could go through the process of becoming legitimate and Health Canada-approved. I was left dangling on the end of a thread.

On top of all this was having to be responsible for and engage with my mother, rapidly descending into madness. Her Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD) and her Alzheimer's were co-morbid double punches that resulted in her becoming more and more offensive and abusive towards me. I was not just mourning the loss of my sister and stepfather, but my entire family, and it was a gigantic mountain bearing down on me. I was having difficulty getting out of bed, going to work, and being a good father and husband. It felt like I was in an ever-deepening hole that I could not crawl out of. A therapy session revealed that I was essentially torturing myself by listening to sad music, constantly looking at photos and videos of my sister, and forcing myself to relive the events and experiences of my losses. Changing this behaviour had positive results; however, I was still struggling with heavy guilt and shame.

The setup

I was in a state of purgatory. While the psilocybin and cannabis were effective in managing what I was going through, without deep trauma healing through the ego-dissolution of a ‘hero dose’ experience, I was at a standstill. The full-day therapy would allow me to challenge my trauma and emotional abuse of my entire life, and deal with my guilt and shame directly. As with any psychiatric medication, without pulling out the root of what is causing emotional upheaval, using substances is only a band-aid, not a fix. I wrote about issues with these kinds of medications here:

 Misdiagnosis: How Psychiatry and Over-Medication Failed My Sister | LinkedIn

I began a search for some kind of psilocybin therapy retreat. I wanted to ensure I was engaging with an individual or group that was qualified and certified in psychedelic therapy, psychology, and trauma healing. While there were several options, many were more like communal or group environments with questionable qualifications. This was, for me, an individualistic experience that I did not want to share in a group environment. I did find a nice couple that was doing a psilocybin retreat in the mountains of British Columbia; however, the price for 3-5 days at the retreat came in at about $30,000. That was beyond my budget, and I have never been one for yoga or organic granola and kale meals. I ended up engaging with a psychology clinic in Vancouver which specialized in psychedelic therapy. The price was reasonable, about $1800 for a full-day session, with intake and integration therapy sessions before and after as an additional cost. I was assigned a counselor and the intake process began.

While I would have preferred not to have had to start from scratch with a new counselor and be able to work with my own psychologist of the last 12 years, the intake process was well received, and I was able to relay what I wanted to focus on during the full-day session. It was decided that, along with psilocybin, MDMA would also be included to assist in managing the CPTSD that was the overarching umbrella of my struggles. I would supply the mushrooms, 3 grams of ‘Penis Envy’ mushrooms, and they would supply the medical grade MDMA. I chose this type of mushroom as I had been using ‘Golden Teacher’ mushrooms for a few months and even a gram was not having that potent an effect anymore. ‘Penis Envy’ mushrooms have shown to be very potent and give a more shamanic, existential experience, and I did not want this experience to be half-assed. I wanted as deep an experience as possible. A date was set, plans were enacted, and flights and the hotel were booked. The hotel was right around the corner from where the session would take place and I was sure to add a day before and after for preparation and managing what I was about to experience.

The Experience

Prior to the event, it was requested that I stop using psilocybin and cannabis to ensure I received the full effect of the dose. This proved difficult for me. While I was able to eliminate THC intake, as well as my microdose of psilocybin, I struggled. The anxiety and sadness became almost overwhelming in the days before the event. Traveling already gave me anxiety issues and, without cannabis to help mitigate that anxiety, the challenge became too much and I had to continue with CBD to help manage it. As well, I went into flare-up with my osteoarthritis and other joint issues. It was a clear indication of how much cannabis was helping mitigate these issues over the last number of years. However, I was able to push through and arrived at my hotel without issue. I spent that night and the next day preparing for the event. I looked at photos and listened to music, ate well, and tried to relax as much as I could.

On the day of the event, I was told to arrive early, around 9:30 am, and eat very little. I had a banana and some water and headed out. I was, at this point, struggling with deep anxiety. I was almost terrified of what I would experience; what would come up during the session. Would it be traumatic memories of being locked in dark closets, screamed at, and hit? Would I relive awful experiences such as the day my sister died? Perhaps this is what it was all about, and I should want to experience these things to work through them. Needless to say, I was a bit scattered and felt very off-kilter. However, the counselors were very supportive and understanding. There were two of them, my regular counselor, and a support counselor for her in case she needed any assistance.

The room was well-prepared and inviting. It had jungle wallpaper and plants everywhere. A large couch with soft pillows and blankets was available. The tea was brewed, the MDMA was given along with some supplements that she explained should help protect the brain, headphones were set up, and we discussed what I wanted to focus on. We also chose the type of playlist that would be used. The options were a light, relaxing type of playlist or a deep, heavy type of playlist. I chose the latter as I really wanted to push myself. I settled in, got comfortable, put on my eye shades and headphones, and laid down. It did not take long for it to begin.

The overall description of the experience I have been using is that it was a war inside my head for the next several hours. There were many battles fought and what prompted them would be the music that was chosen for the experience. The music began light and easy but soon started to push me in intensity. Then came the first battle and enlightenment. It was about the abandonment and neglect I experienced as a child. Overwhelming sadness came over me about how unloved I felt and how lonely I had been as a child, even into my teens and college. However, I came to understand that this was not any fault of mine. I was able to understand that my mother was sick, had been for a long time, and that my father was doing his best under the circumstances, despite the manipulation and lies my mother would use to sabotage the relationship. I felt it all release and lift away after the great heaving sobs relented. My first battle was done, and I was better for it. I had agreed to somatic touch healing during the experience, and I could feel their hands of support during this even though we did not speak. They are guides and support and are not supposed to engage too much verbally, unless requested, to prevent directing the experience away from where my brain wanted to take me.

Despite the trauma coming up, I felt as though I was wrapped in a warm blanket. I was not scared of what I had experienced, or what was to come. Then the music changed. It became a kind of war or battle soundtrack and I bore down as I felt my stepfather coming. And battle we did. All the bullying, threats, and physical abuse came up and I put my head down, put my fists together, and faced it. I saw his father and recalled how he grew up. I began to understand how he suffered as his empire started to crumble around him watching family and friends die, his heart attack, his prostate cancer diagnosis, his wife spiraling into madness, and his daughter suffering because of it. I began to pity him. It did not excuse his behaviour toward us, but I could begin to understand his anger and rage. As a grandiose narcissist he had worked so hard to be perceived as the best, stepping on and abusing all those around him to get there; however, in the end, he was a pitiful, overweight, overbearing tyrant that was being pushed out of his business and his family could barely stand to be around him due to our fear of his instability. I did not forgive him, but I understood him, and I could finally let him be.

The music changed again, and I calmed and enjoyed the visuals and rhythm. My mind switched gears and the reason I was there came to the fore. My sister. The light behind my eyes became bright and overwhelming, but warm and embracing. I am not a spiritual person and put my trust in science; however, I do believe in the perpetuity of energy, and I could feel her energy, I think. It is hard to describe. I did not see her face but could feel her all around me. I started to cry and call out that I didn’t want her to go. I apologized for not being there for her, that I could not save her.

I felt forgiveness. I felt love. I felt her smile. I think I reached out to touch her. I promised I would take care of her son as best I could. I thanked her. I told her I love her. Then she floated away.

A massive weight was lifted from me. I could feel the tension in my body finally relax and I felt happy. Moreover, I began to open up more and talk while I was still medicated. I cracked some jokes, and I could hear the counselors laughing through my headphones. I was able to talk about my experiences with levity and lack of fear. I just felt like I needed to speak for a little while. But the experience was not over.

Throughout the therapy, my mother would rear her head. Just as she would in reality, she would snake in and out through the battles and throw in her demeaning and hurtful comments, but I kept pushing her away. It was now time to face her. This time, however, I was still full of light and happiness, so I was able to laugh about her attempts to sabotage what was happening. I came to understand that she had always been my monster, my sister’s monster, that hid in the closet or under the bed in my mind, just as I hid from her in the closet or under the bed as a child. Now she seemed pitiful and afraid, I was no longer scared of her. It was not her fault that she suffered as a child which caused her to develop her mental illness; however, I could still lay the blame at her feet for what my sister and I had to endure from her which caused our severe disorders and finally culminated in my sister’s death. I will likely never forgive her since she will never take responsibility, but I could understand her, and I could finally let her be.

Things began to wind down. Clearly, I had peaked, and I was out the other side. I was smiling, I was jovial. A great weight had been lifted from me and I felt physically lighter. I could finally find some peace.

The Aftermath

When I took the headphones and mask off and sat up, I could feel that things had changed. The counselors and I started to discuss the experience and one of them cut up some fruit for me to enjoy during the discussion. Unfortunately, I could feel my old programming start to creep in. Suddenly I felt completely vulnerable, like an exposed wire. Shame crept in, particularly about showing so much emotion in front of people I barely knew, especially the counselor I had just met that day. My whole life I was shamed or ridiculed or mocked for showing or discussing emotions and I had just let a dam burst forth and bared more than I had shared with anyone previous, including my therapist of 12 years. I needed to get out of there, so I bolted, and in hindsight, I believe this was a mistake. I should have spent more time speaking with them and letting more of the substances pass through my system.

Thankfully the walk back to the hotel was short and uneventful; however, I still felt vulnerable and exposed, not to mention still quite impaired by audio and visual distortion. Fortunately, I had ensured that I purchased everything that I would need to recover the day before and had plenty of fruit and juice to consume. I put my headphones back on and listened to some of my own music, lay on the bed and tried to ingest everything. My Imposter Syndrome and self-doubt kicked in, as well as my scientific and analytical mind. I began to question and diminish the experience. I had been very conscious of the counselors’ presence; had I been acting out a role that was expected? Did I really experience my sister’s presence or was it just a construct of my mind and I was trying to force a belief that it was my sister? Isn’t everything we experience just constructs of electrochemical charges in our brains anyway? I was a fraud, the experience was a fraud, nothing changed, this was a waste of money and time, you are hopeless, etc. Another battle waged in my head, this one a battle with the old and new selves.

I was able to defeat these irrational beliefs over time. This experience was profound, there was much to unpack. I would not figure this out right now, it was a time to reflect and bask. I ordered food and watched brainless television. I was content and slept. The next day I went out and bought some comics and gave money to some homeless people, asking that they eat something. There was a smile on my face and my step was light. I felt good, the weight was still lifted. I spent the rest of the day reading and watching television, interspersed with trying to reflect and make sense of the experience.

Integration

Over the last couple of weeks since the event, the experience is still being unpacked. I no longer think with guilt and shame about my sister’s death, and that is a huge relief. It is one thing to know that her death was not my fault when everyone tells you the same thing; however, I now could feel it, I understood it, and I could let it be. It is one thing to know that my stepfather was suffering from mental illness due to his own upbringing. It is another to be able to truly understand that it was not his fault and that he was to be pitied for his suffering, even though he is still to blame for his behaviour. I could let him be.

I’ve had one integration session with my psychedelic counselor and one with my regular counselor, both of which have helped me understand what I experienced and integrate the experience into my ‘self’. One of them even helped me understand that my scientific analysis of this only being a construct in my mind actually proves the experience to be authentic since everything we experience are constructs in our minds anyway. How is this any different, truly? The other explained that my analytical self, my Jungian 'shadow', which she named my 'manager' was part of me and I needed to embrace it. It protected me by bringing logic and definition to my experiences; not to diminish, but to understand.

I know that this is only the first step. This may become an annual experience, or more if needed. I am still struggling with the deep programming of a life of emotional abuse. I still experience bouts of anxiety and self-doubt; however, I no longer ruminate about the death of my sister or the abuse from my stepfather. That is a win. My mother is still an issue, but I am able to step back and realize that she no longer is my responsibility when it comes to her care. I am trying to shed the programming that I have to be there for my mother, despite how abusive she is towards me. I have much deeper trauma that I need to deal with. I have only seen the iceberg above the water, there is still everything below that needs to be rooted out so I can truly be who I was meant to be. For now, I will continue with my microdosing and therapy, pulling the weeds that spring up around the great trauma tree that must be uprooted. Someday, I will pull that tree down and see the sunlight that it obscures. I just need to be patient and put in the work.