Love this. I really like the idea here of embracing and getting ok with the scary depth of darkness of mind that can come with psychedelics--we called that a bad trip in the 90s -- not that your experience fits into that category necessarily, only you can define that. I stopped taking lsd after about five times as a young person, despite how much I loved the visuals, because I hated the anxiety and existential dread that kicked in half way through the experience. Like you say here, feelings I work really hard to avoid on the day to day. Curious if you tried lsd or anything else psychedelic recreationally as a young person and what your experience then was. I’ve avoided psilocybin and ayahuasca over the past few decades out of fear of what I would come face to face with after the traumas, etc I’ve experienced in adult life. Maybe that’s the whole point tho. Thanks for sharing this and everything always
Thank you, Holly, for writing. It helps me to read what you write. When I got my terminal stage diagnosis almost three years ago, and everybody thought I would die soon, I had sort of the same changes as you described. A profound connection with nature, with people, with joy. I think it had to do with not having to fight anymore, not having to hold tight. I still live, incredibly, I’m still sick and not cured magically, and I’m thinking it has to do with this joy, softness and connectedness. Hugs and kudos
Thank you for sharing your trips! I admire your bravery trying ayahuasca after your challenging psilocybin experiences. I say this as someone who very much had this feeling after my own psilocybin retreat (where fortunately I had much more attentive facilitators than your “shaman”):
“a fear so large I thought it would swallow me, I got restless and uncomfortable, I was afraid I’d be stuck that way forever and never be ‘normal’ again…”
This feeling lasted months after my trip and finally dissipated thanks to therapy and Lexapro and moving. Maybe I needed the trip through hell to get to this happier place I am now but damn, was it scary to walk so close to the edge of sanity.
Appreciate you opening up space for this conversation. ✨❤️🍄✨
Beautiful, and brave. The extent to which you can articulate the depths of your pain--and, by extension, the depth of all our pain--is so remarkable and redemptive on a collective level. You describe the tough and tougher and transformative spectrum of recovery, the one that tosses us back and forth between and amongst the extremes and the equally awful middling doldrums in a way that is ultimately transcendent and, at the same time, profoundly human. Though it takes such a toll on you, the messenger. Take care of you, good human. And please keep writing, if you can.
Thank you for this wonderful piece of writing. It’s something that would interest me, more so now after reading of your terror. I experienced that on mushrooms one time, although it was recreational and I was in full-on active alcoholism at the time.
I did raise a chuckle at ‘jobby work’. Just so you know, in Scots, a jobby is a poo. 💩
Footnote #4 would also be how I would describe going through menopause, so that about made my brain explode. Also, I'm so sorry you found the asshole shaman. This is a fascinating story, I look forward to the rest. xoxo
You are traveling this non binary terrain with so much discernment and specificity...I love it.
Hope the shaman you saw will be seeing less business given the upsurge ( your comment didn't sound like bypassing at all, relationality is at the heart of this stuff!)
The experiences in tripping (and dreams) are facinating to me and I'd be curious to hear your revelation around bulimia.
There is such beauty in facing ourselves and others honestly! I wish I didn't have the fear and resistance either but I do. The bright side is that the more I am able to be WITH life, in humility and with a modicum of finesse, the less scary it becomes. Thanks for taking us all along for the ride Holly!
Saying thank you for sharing this feels insufficient - I just don't have the words to express how much I appreciate your writing, and always have.
Also, this line stopped my dead in my tracks, "To me, recovery is the process of actually listening to yourself and having the courage to trust what you hear." It took me from 2011-2017 to figure this out for myself. Now I have the words to describe it.
This was a fascinating read. When you asked us a month ago to tell you our thoughts and experiences with hallucinogens, my whole note back to you was about my snake phobia and generalized anxiety and how i didnt trust my brain to not deliver me a terrifying 8-10 hours of fear. I am gobsmacked to see that’s squarely what happened to you and it is for what you are most grateful. I need to chew on this a bit more in terms of personal action, but for the time being, thank you for being such an amazing writer, and person. I deeply respect your perspectives and insights. 🩷💕
I remember the elevator. That exact metaphor and all of those express trips down to the bottom floor of my despair were on the list of reasons for quitting drinking for sure. I even remember being amazed at how efficient the elevator was, taking meta moments to be impressed while also being a melted steaming fucked up pile on the floor.
Just wanted to chime in with love and connection for how you tell your stories. This arc has got me interested.
This is such a fascinating, valuable, important and vulnerable essay. Perhaps what I love most of all about it is your observation that encountering and honouring the darkest emotions is where progress and recovery lie. As a therapist, I see many people trying to turn away from this realisation in the hope that they can find some sort of solution that removes the need to feel the awful pain. It's both understandable and almost always impossible. As Robert Frost wrote, "The best way out is always through," and the "through" can often be almost unbearable. Thank you, as always.
An amazing piece of writing, as always Holly. I feel as though you’ve taken me on a journey although I’m not sure I want a firsthand experience. I know nothing, zero, nada on the topic but wonder if the effect of going to the edge of hell & surviving it was the lesson to be learned - that you’re more resilient & stronger than you know
Love this. I really like the idea here of embracing and getting ok with the scary depth of darkness of mind that can come with psychedelics--we called that a bad trip in the 90s -- not that your experience fits into that category necessarily, only you can define that. I stopped taking lsd after about five times as a young person, despite how much I loved the visuals, because I hated the anxiety and existential dread that kicked in half way through the experience. Like you say here, feelings I work really hard to avoid on the day to day. Curious if you tried lsd or anything else psychedelic recreationally as a young person and what your experience then was. I’ve avoided psilocybin and ayahuasca over the past few decades out of fear of what I would come face to face with after the traumas, etc I’ve experienced in adult life. Maybe that’s the whole point tho. Thanks for sharing this and everything always
Thank you, Holly, for writing. It helps me to read what you write. When I got my terminal stage diagnosis almost three years ago, and everybody thought I would die soon, I had sort of the same changes as you described. A profound connection with nature, with people, with joy. I think it had to do with not having to fight anymore, not having to hold tight. I still live, incredibly, I’m still sick and not cured magically, and I’m thinking it has to do with this joy, softness and connectedness. Hugs and kudos
Thank you for sharing your trips! I admire your bravery trying ayahuasca after your challenging psilocybin experiences. I say this as someone who very much had this feeling after my own psilocybin retreat (where fortunately I had much more attentive facilitators than your “shaman”):
“a fear so large I thought it would swallow me, I got restless and uncomfortable, I was afraid I’d be stuck that way forever and never be ‘normal’ again…”
This feeling lasted months after my trip and finally dissipated thanks to therapy and Lexapro and moving. Maybe I needed the trip through hell to get to this happier place I am now but damn, was it scary to walk so close to the edge of sanity.
Appreciate you opening up space for this conversation. ✨❤️🍄✨
Dearest Holly,
I am continuously amazed and fascinated and somewhat terrified at how similar our human journeys seem to be. ❤️
I love —LOVE, discovering more about your journey, and I love your writing.
"To me, recovery is the process of actually listening to yourself and having the courage to trust what you hear."
Thank you...
❤️
Thank you for sharing, Holly.
Beautiful, and brave. The extent to which you can articulate the depths of your pain--and, by extension, the depth of all our pain--is so remarkable and redemptive on a collective level. You describe the tough and tougher and transformative spectrum of recovery, the one that tosses us back and forth between and amongst the extremes and the equally awful middling doldrums in a way that is ultimately transcendent and, at the same time, profoundly human. Though it takes such a toll on you, the messenger. Take care of you, good human. And please keep writing, if you can.
Thank you for this wonderful piece of writing. It’s something that would interest me, more so now after reading of your terror. I experienced that on mushrooms one time, although it was recreational and I was in full-on active alcoholism at the time.
I did raise a chuckle at ‘jobby work’. Just so you know, in Scots, a jobby is a poo. 💩
Footnote #4 would also be how I would describe going through menopause, so that about made my brain explode. Also, I'm so sorry you found the asshole shaman. This is a fascinating story, I look forward to the rest. xoxo
You are traveling this non binary terrain with so much discernment and specificity...I love it.
Hope the shaman you saw will be seeing less business given the upsurge ( your comment didn't sound like bypassing at all, relationality is at the heart of this stuff!)
The experiences in tripping (and dreams) are facinating to me and I'd be curious to hear your revelation around bulimia.
There is such beauty in facing ourselves and others honestly! I wish I didn't have the fear and resistance either but I do. The bright side is that the more I am able to be WITH life, in humility and with a modicum of finesse, the less scary it becomes. Thanks for taking us all along for the ride Holly!
Saying thank you for sharing this feels insufficient - I just don't have the words to express how much I appreciate your writing, and always have.
Also, this line stopped my dead in my tracks, "To me, recovery is the process of actually listening to yourself and having the courage to trust what you hear." It took me from 2011-2017 to figure this out for myself. Now I have the words to describe it.
This was a fascinating read. When you asked us a month ago to tell you our thoughts and experiences with hallucinogens, my whole note back to you was about my snake phobia and generalized anxiety and how i didnt trust my brain to not deliver me a terrifying 8-10 hours of fear. I am gobsmacked to see that’s squarely what happened to you and it is for what you are most grateful. I need to chew on this a bit more in terms of personal action, but for the time being, thank you for being such an amazing writer, and person. I deeply respect your perspectives and insights. 🩷💕
I remember the elevator. That exact metaphor and all of those express trips down to the bottom floor of my despair were on the list of reasons for quitting drinking for sure. I even remember being amazed at how efficient the elevator was, taking meta moments to be impressed while also being a melted steaming fucked up pile on the floor.
Just wanted to chime in with love and connection for how you tell your stories. This arc has got me interested.
Thank you! For all that you do, share and articulate for us so well. Your experiences and writing are so valuable and needed in this world ❤️
This is such a fascinating, valuable, important and vulnerable essay. Perhaps what I love most of all about it is your observation that encountering and honouring the darkest emotions is where progress and recovery lie. As a therapist, I see many people trying to turn away from this realisation in the hope that they can find some sort of solution that removes the need to feel the awful pain. It's both understandable and almost always impossible. As Robert Frost wrote, "The best way out is always through," and the "through" can often be almost unbearable. Thank you, as always.
Wow. You continue to amaze and enlighten
An amazing piece of writing, as always Holly. I feel as though you’ve taken me on a journey although I’m not sure I want a firsthand experience. I know nothing, zero, nada on the topic but wonder if the effect of going to the edge of hell & surviving it was the lesson to be learned - that you’re more resilient & stronger than you know