My Scariest Experience with Ketamine...

And Why It Was Worth It

There are a million different articles out there right now about how psychedelics saved a life. I don’t want to tell you about how ketamine saved mine, I’d much rather tell you about the time that my heart was pounding out of my chest, and I couldn’t see anything through my blurred vision, and I was so scared I started hoping for death. And the reason I want to tell is because I would do it all again without a second thought. 

I lived with a deep and enduring depression for my 20’s. It wasn’t really the water I swam in so much as it was the water I barely kept my head above. I couldn’t tell you when it started, but I can tell you it was before I had the word “depression” for it. It shaped everything, my worldview got darker, my relationships got harder to maintain, and I struggled to find anything worth hoping for. Real “Dark Night of the Soul” kind of stuff, if you could have convinced me that I still had a soul and that a “night” can mean over a decade. 

I tried everything that made sense to me. I sought any soothing I could from my friends and family, and my spirituality. When that didn’t work, I figured out that alcohol did; and I kept that up until my loved ones couldn’t take it any more. There were about 7 therapists over those 10 years. Not only did it not help, but I got worse! No one told me in grad school that happens for some clients, and apparently no one had told any of my therapists either. Each time one of my therapists was not able to accept that therapy was not helping, I felt that much more sick, alone, and broken.  

My experience of therapy as a client is a vulnerable topic for another day, but that is where I was when I decided to start my ketamine treatments. I decided on the IV Infusion protocol for what are probably obvious reasons. I was tired of giving therapists a chance when they thought that unconditional positive regard was going to move the needle for me, it had not. So I made it through my first two injections and was shaken…in a good way. I experienced what it was like to not ruminate for the first time I could recall. I actually had the realization that I didn’t want death, and I had given up on those two things changing years ago. Then, my third session happened…

My First “Bad Trip”...

I don’t know what really kept me going those years to be honest. Looking back, I feel like I was starving in terms of my emotional needs and mental health. I still don’t know what kept me going, but I do think I learned something about it that day. As I sat there going through the IV drip like I had before, my chest just started to tighten. Everything went sideways from there. My anxiety just kept rising until my heartbeat was pounding and painful. 

I remembered feeling like I needed to ground myself so I pulled the blindfold off and the earplugs out. I tried to look for a picture of a friend of mine on my phone, but I wasn’t able to unlock it, being in the peak of the experience. The tracers in my vision started to get bigger until everything looked like a preschoolers best attempt at copying Monet. 

I couldn’t find my panic button so I screamed (re: rolled through every curse word I know and might have made some up…). It just kept getting worse, I could only make out shapes and I could feel my stabbing, painful heartbeat all the way in my back. One nurse stretched a weighted blanket across my chest and started applying pressure while the other held my hand, and I couldn’t fully understand anything they were saying. I remembered thinking, I don’t want to fight any more, I just want my heart to stop. Then a strange memory came to mind…

Why Is Preparation So Important in Ketamine-Assisted Therapy?

I remembered my first mentor in therapy, Dr. Moore. He was one of my grad professors and he taught me about mindfulness and hypnosis. He gave me books to read that weren’t covered in classes and helped me learn all kinds of things about focus. I don’t know why Dr. Moore’s voice came up in that terrifying experience, but I heard him reminding me that “Sometimes, it just feels comfortable to let your eyes rest on one spot…”

This is why I understand how some people mistake ketamine for magic, because as soon as I heard his voice reminding me of that, my eyes locked on this flower in one of the paintings on the wall. Even though all I could feel was my heart thumping, I could hear my breathing starting to deepen. And in just a few moments, my thoughts calmed, the tension released, and I just sank into the recliner for the rest of my experience. 

I don’t know what to think of Dr. Moore’s voice, or why he showed up in my memory for the first time in so many years. I remembered my first thought coming out of that experience vividly though, there’s Something in me that wants to be okay. And that Something is LOUD! In all of the noise and hopes that maybe it could all just end, that Something’s voice was so powerful it could still be heard in Dr. Moore’s slow, soft tone.

I thought I was as prepared as I could be going into those ketamine infusions. I had been therapized into the ground at that point. I didn’t need anyone to teach me mindfulness, I’d been exploring that for years. I could practice cognitive defusion with the best of them. I had sat across from empty chairs filled by every attachment figure I had. So what was I missing at the beginning of my experiences with ketamine? At that point, I couldn’t imagine anything inside me that could help the suffering stop, but there was Something.

The Answer is Inside 

So I don’t know what kept me going all those years, but Something kept me alive. Something had me turning to alcohol, Something kept me trying therapist after therapist, Something drove me to try ketamine when I had mostly given up hope. Later, I would go on to get trained in providing ketamine-assisted psychotherapy (KAP). I learned more about the ways we can prepare for an experience. “Set & Setting” stopped being a phrase people mindlessly throw around and started to mean something to me. 

Because after that experience, I knew that there is Something inside me that wants me to be okay. I forgot about the Something through the years. With the loneliness, cynicism, and hopelessness building, I didn’t believe anything left in me could be good. But as I laid there having a “bad trip”, I just couldn’t be soothed by a picture of my friend, or the weighted blanket, or even the compassion of the nurses caring for me that day. Something soothed me, and Something didn’t get there through the IV.

I believe that we’ve all got Something. I also believe my clients when they tell me there’s nothing. I know what that’s like too. I know what losing touch with that Something is like. I wish someone had told me that I needed to be inviting of this Something, that I needed to make some space for it to show up. I wish that someone had been able to help me focus inward before I went into ketamine treatments, that if I can accept even a “bad trip” and keep my focus inside, Something is there. 

That’s what I work toward with my clients in preparation sessions. I believe they have a Something too. I believe their Something wants the best for them. I just want to help them make some space, I want to help them learn to focus inside. I want to help them listen so they can hear when Something speaks up.

If you or anyone you know feel like you could benefit from KAP, please reach out! 

I hope you’ve met your Something…

-Ryan