A High-Dose Ketamine Therapy Session - The Experience
Journal entry immediately post-experience
“It started with a welcome and rapid cessation of the ever-present tension in my nervous system. I remember becoming confused and feeling unprepared. Were we starting already? Was Lauren (my therapist) even in the room? Shouldn’t there be more preparation and buildup given that I might never be the same again when it’s over? I didn’t know, and my ability to care or comprehend was fading rapidly.
When it fully hits, I release a breath I had no idea I was even holding in - one that felt as if I was exhaling from my entire being. I realize I can’t recall a time in my life where I was able to observe myself losing so much control.
The folding of reality begins, and I feel as if I’m existing outside of, or in different relation to time. I think this is at least partially due to the fact that the visual and sensory aspects of the ketamine experience seem to accurately predict the future of the music currently filling the small room, even if I’ve never heard it before and it doesn’t follow any familiar or predictable time signature or tempo. The elements of the environment and qualities of the music seem so inextricably and intimately bound to the same fundamental constructs of reality, that it’s all too easy for me to see where the music is going before it arrives. It’s so mind-blowing every time it happens that I can’t help but be in awe, and accept how little I ultimately understand about the complexities of the human mind, of perception, consciousness, etc.
It’s not just a visual component though. The environment seems to carry with it this property of expansion or contraction and, paradoxically, occasionally both. This representation feels unfathomably bizarre when experienced in this way, and yet there exists something so immutably perfect and natural about it. It greets my intuition with a profound and almost ancient sense of familiarity, as if the expansion and contraction are natural and ever-present elements of existence that simply go largely, but not entirely unnoticed in everyday life.
It’s as if I am witnessing the muscles and bones of reality in motion – revealing a secret that is all but incomprehensible in that it seems to so firmly exist outside the capability of the tools I’ve grown accustomed to perceiving my reality with over the course of my life. I feel as though I’ve moved from a casual relationship with reality to an intimate one, and now I have the privilege and challenge of listening to every single one of reality’s thoughts on how horrible everyone she works with is. “Space time can be such a dick sometimes, he’s so stubborn and confusing”.
Then there’s the overwhelming amount of data. I mean, was it absolutely necessary for me to watch an extradimensional “How it’s made” regarding what happens to every fiber of existence in the exact moment I begin considering how firm an imminent handshake should be? I never would have guessed so, but Ketamine Bae seems to think it’s important in this moment, and she’s got a great track record so far.
After what has likely been mere seconds, the first room beings to collapse and fold in on itself to an infinitely small point – a singularity. There is a sense of impending obliteration, but I don’t fight it, partially because I can’t, and partially because it feels as natural as breathing. There is no fear, and I wonder if this is what death feels like – pure acceptance. It’s not so bad, and the first thing that comes to mind as I accept that I may in fact just be dead is, “I can live with this”.
As always, something about the ketamine effect seems to have accurately predicted the future, as represented in the crescendo, or “completion” of the room, in perfect harmony with a song I’m hearing for the first time. I have been treated to what feels like the most masterfully choreographed sensory presentation of my life, one that could not have been choreographed if I am to adhere to the truths I have come to understand about reality up until this moment. I don’t actually believe it can be described, as I simply cannot make sense of the forms the data have been presented to me as. Colors that aren’t colors, shapes that aren’t shapes, events that occur both simultaneously and separately, inexplicable relations to the real world outside my inner experience, etc. What does the concept of tactile feedback on a keyboard look like? What color is it? What sequence of events need to occur in the universe for it to function properly and exist as we perceive it? Am I high?
I’ve come to learn that this place is not meant to be understood in the ways I’ve grown accustomed to relying on in order to feel comfortable and familiar with my reality. I have a profound sense that I am a guest here, and that I may only linger and observe for a limited time, almost as if I’ve cashed in my golden ticket, signed the NDA, and agreed to keep my hands and arms inside the cart at all times.
The collapse of the first room is finally complete, and it seems to “rebirth” me via what feels like a natural and necessary expansion of the collapsed reality I just left behind. Am I living through my own “big bang” on repeat? This rebirth always seems to be accompanied by a renewed sense of time and existence, and is physically represented by me in the form of inhaling a deep breath. It’s as if I’m choosing to breathe life, trust, and meaning back into myself following the collapse; that reality and I have agreed we need each other to accomplish it, and that I have affirmed my desire to awaken again and conquer the next challenge.
I instinctively know that I can trust my breath to carry me forward. I don’t think my eyes are open, but there is additional light in the next version of this space. My brain wants to construct something recognizable out of what I’m seeing, but the moments are fleeting. Each moment that passes as utterly unrecognizable increases the intensity of the pareidolia as my brain yearns to establish any semblance of familiarity. I know I am attempting some form of control over an experience that cannot be directed by my analytical mind, so I once again trust in my breath to carry me forward.
Perhaps the most perplexing aspect of this experience is that, throughout its entirety, I am 100% certain that no raw lies or untruth can be found here. Whatever is revealed cannot be false, only improperly perceived and scrutinized by my rationalizing mind. It’s quite easy for my brain to play tricks on me in everyday life, and for them to occasionally go entirely unnoticed. Ketamine seems to establish a lossless connection to the source – one that must show the unadulterated activity of my mind and its effect on some part of my life. Given the impossible strangeness of the experience, I don’t always know what to look for, but I know that whatever I’m experiencing is my brain revealing to me some part of the true nature of itself. It’s telling me to pay attention, that what I am observing is important to the process of healing, even if I don’t have the slightest clue why, in the moment.”