I have often grappled with the question of whether certain experiences were real or imagined. It seems that perhaps we are constantly "channeling" in some way, but for the purpose of explaining extraordinary occurrences, let's stick to that term. Personally, I tend to be more skeptical than believing, and I require thorough investigation before accepting something as true.

In 2022, I had a remarkable experience while completely sober, where I was communicating with nature and received a sign that was impossible to doubt. Despite receiving an external, tangible sign that validated the reality of the experience, I still found myself questioning its authenticity. Over time, I have come to realize that when it comes to the psyche and extraordinary encounters, it is best to simply acknowledge and accept what has transpired. It becomes a matter of acknowledging that something happened, describing it in its specific form, and recognizing that belief or disbelief no longer holds significance.

This perspective has allowed me to navigate such experiences with a sense of detachment from the need to categorize or judge them. I focus on the fact that certain events occurred, attributing them to specific individuals or circumstances, while understanding that my belief or disbelief no longer impacts the essence of what took place.

This is a journal entry from 2018. As you will see, I wasn’t doing too well but I never gave up. I kept fighting, experimenting and digging deeper until I began to connect with myself. I’m still on this path and continue to work hard at it. As you progress on your path, you will discover the true way out lies within, and with each step, the tools and lessons needed will naturally unfold. Thank you for being here.

2018 - A psilocybin microdose

Too often, this happens when you’re open to it. I laid the small stem down on the miniature tray and it measured exactly .125 mg, the amount my therapist recommended. (2 hours later, I took another .025 mg to total .150 mg, the actual amount my therapist recommended haha).

Today I woke up feeling the same way as usual. My mind was blurry, my body achy, my mind racy. My stay in bed mood, we need more sleep, 12 hours isn’t enough. Irrelevant script looping in my head about social matters. I’m rarely social all making it that much annoying. 

I swallowed the microdose. Within an hour, I’m stretching. I look out into my backyard and I feel the loving presence of a mother. I’m cared for, I’m loved, I mean something, I matter…. What I see matters, what I think matters, what I feel matters, what I do matters, my life matters. 

Everything has meaning, or rather, everything surrounding me exists and is alive. We are all here. I notice I care deeply about this and am moved. I am deeply in touch. All is beautiful. This, I am never in tune with. 

The actuality of my condition is that life doesn’t feel real. It’s scary. My system is so heavy on the defensive that I never get to spend time with my true self. Wrestling a low mood and anxiety 24/7 leaves no time for anything else. To dream of a life filled with hope and aspirations is contingent on peaceful bedrock. To dream is to know that you’re your dream. It is not to be chased after as if the dream is unattainable and that it’s as abandoning as the idea itself. I need to know my target. Where I want to be, with whom and doing what. I need to make sense of my future. Bouncing from one job to the next is living a meaningless and out of touch life.

I channeled my grandmother earlier. She has been in a nursing home for the past 4 years of her life. She had dementia and I had depression, and in my mind, going to visit her was pointless for both parties, so I never went to see her. I laid down on a recliner chair and I prayed to my ancestors, wishing them a peaceful transition from human life. I was greeted by my grandmother and I apologized for not having been there for the last part of her life. She told me it wasn’t necessary for me to have been there because all the love she felt for me was already in her heart. That made me cry. Then she began to cry. She never knew until now how much pain I’ve been in.

There are so many moving pieces within, I wish I could drop the juggling and just move on, although that would mean leaving everything behind all at once, which would require a great deal of trust on my part.

My past haunts me and sentences me to not see the light of day. I need to make peace with it. I feel like I’m being summoned to. I need to know with what I making peace with. It is shame. While I partook in my past behaviors, I knew I’d have to eventually confront them one day if I was alive to do so. Dying would have been easier, but here I am, alive and trying to start over.

Present day

If I microdose psilocybin, my dose is .30 mg (considered a small amount). Anything above .100 mg is a large dose for me. I remember being functional at that amount (.150) but if I had to focus on something other then living, it would have been difficult. I was also happy that day and that amount opened me up to experience life in a different way. Quite amazing, considering, I woke up feeling depersonalized/derealized.

The effects of “Mental illness” and trauma are hard to describe to outsiders. In a sense, it’s an alternate state of consciousness, a blurry one at that. I tell people disassociation  feels like you can’t fit your foot into your shoe. No matter how hard you try to stomp it in and slide it in, your heal hangs out of your shoe and this feeling of being disconnected persists until you heal.