The retreat

 This is going to be long, but I promised you that I’d tell you everything, so that’s what you get. Fix a tea before we start… ready?

Arrived in Amsterdam and two train journeys and two hours later I arrived at the station. We had arranged for 4 of us to then drive to the retreat which was in the countryside, really nice and peaceful. The retreat was in a converted Dutch barn. Downstairs was a long table and kitchen, with bedrooms off to the sides, stairs going upon the right with bedrooms etc to the right of that, a bridge across the dining area into the session area, which was quite large, and dark. 

There were 9 of us from Ireland, the UK, Netherlands, South Africa, and Poland. I was just the oldest, youngest late 20s maybe? There were two facilitators from the Netherlands. We started by handing in phones and watches. That was a difficult thing to do, and if god himself asked for my phone he wouldn’t get it, but I was here for the experience so I gave the facilitator phone and watch. The worst thing about that was not being able to listen to my beloved trance. I get the reasoning, it was supposed to be out of time, and unconnected from the rest of the world. We did introductions and talked about what we wanted to let go of and what we wanted to achieve and wrote it down. We did some trust exercises, and then took a micro dose of psilocybin. The truffle is about the size of a large hazelnut and tastes like a rotten walnut. It wasn’t great, but was edible. It hit after a while, and I felt quite high and dreamy. We then did some breathing exercises, which was surprisingly emotional. Then we burned the papers that we’d written down what we wanted to achieve. I slept really well, partly due to having six hours sleep in the last 48.

Day 2 The trip

I was rooming with a really nice guy, a musician, quite well known by all accounts, and we got on really well. We talked for ages, and we really understood each other. He was in his thirties, and I love being with younger people; they remind me of who I was once. The day started early and we had a simple breakfast. We then did more breathing exercises and went out into the garden, and put blindfolds on, then did more trust exercises/team bonding and so on. They were really fun and I enjoyed them. Then it was time for the “ceremony”. 3 different doses of truffles were available and I think we all took the maximum dose, 27 grams. That’s about a dozen truffles, and we had to crumble them up into a glass with our fingers. Then we poured hot water onto the grounds. The water turned a swampy grey mud colour. You drank it down, spooned in the grounds, chewed them thoroughly, put blindfolds on, had heavy weighted blankets, and had some music, mainly drumming. I was not anxious, I’d done the work and knew what I wanted. Slight trepidation for sure. I decided I wasn’t going to think of anything in particular, but just let whatever happened happen. 

What did happen was not what I expected. Which was nothing. Not a thing. I just lay there, and it was impossible to track time. No lights, no hallucinations, no nothing. After a while the facilitator came over and asked me how the trip was progressing. “It’s not. I’m bored.”

Everybody else was tripping hard. Some were laughing or crying or moaning quietly, or tossing and turning. I knew this because I gave up, took the mask off and sat up. Still nothing. This is a strong psychedelic at a high dose. They were really well into it by now and I was still waiting at the station for a train that had been cancelled. Still nothing. After about 5 hours they all started to come down a bit, got up and chatted about their experience. Lots of happy campers, and still me as Billy No-mates.

And then it hit me. Really, really hard, right out of the blue like a steam train.  Wave after wave of intense grief. I curled up in the corner, trying to come to terms with it. And it got worse and worse, and stronger and stronger. I was totally incapable. Thinking about Jill dying, and how I had failed her. How I felt when I held her as she died. The feeling of self hate and loathing was crushing. It was worse than anything I’d ever experienced.  And it just went on and on. Wave after wave of grief and anger.  I was totally unprepared by now, and it was all so fast. Eventually I staggered to my feet because I needed the loo. I stumbled out, used the loo, still sobbing, came out and the male facilitator was there waiting for me. I just leaned on the balcony looking down stairs and it got worse. I thought it was bad before, but it just increased ten fold. In the end he just held me, and I cried like an alligator with toothache. 

It was the most intense grief I’ve had other than the night Jill died. And I really hammered into myself. I’ve never felt that much self hatred and self loathing. It was really vicious stuff. And he still just held me while I sobbed and sobbed. Eventually he helped me back to my room, and the lady facilitator came and sat with me and held my hand. And it got worse again. It was one of the most intense emotions I have ever felt. I was so angry with myself. I’d come all this way and all I was doing was a re-run of what I had been through so many times before. What the actual? 

Eventually I calmed down, and I had both facilitators in the room with me, I had been that bad. I was exhausted, and broken and beaten. It had all been for nothing. All of the things I had hoped for, and trusted my brain to do for me, all useless and wasted and I felt like I’d failed again. By now the others had finished supper and it was time to go back to share in the circle. They’d all seen visions, hallucinations, chatted to people they’d grieved, and they’d all got something out of it. They’d all had really positive experiences. Sure, they’d cried, but they handled it. Which just made me worse. Eventually it was my turn and I just said “I’ve got nothing out of this, it’s been a waste of time”. Then it was time for bed, and I chatted some more to my room mate. I went to sleep about 11, woke at 2, stayed awake until 5; I was listening to a church clock which rang the hours out, so I knew the time. My anxiety peaked big time. The experience had done nothing for that either. A total disaster. Complete and utter failure. And I was thinking about how I was going to write this and what I was going to say in my blog, which just made it worse.

Day 3 

We started about 8am. Back upstairs and more breath work. Seriously, what was the point? All for fucking nothing. Then breakfast. They were all happy and smiling and laughing and I was just devastated. The only failure who hadn’t got something out of it except the grief I already knew inside out.  Which just increased the anger against myself. It was a terrible feeling. Everyone was aware of what I’d been thru and they were all really nice to me, which was lovely. Then back upstairs for a meditation session. 

We were supposed to be in a wood, see a cottage, go in, meet a child and hold it, and care for it and love it. This was supposed to be the introduction to our inner child. When we got to the stroking of it I was just imagining strangling the little bastard. This was not good. So I got up, walked out of the session and went down and walked in the garden, pacing up and down. I was so depressed and unhappy. Angry at myself. So much for my brain knowing what to do. No visuals, no loss of ego, just more of the same shit. Eventually the session ended and I went back and joined them for the break. Then back upstairs for the cacao ceremony. I was in deep despair at this point. I barely tried it. Then more breath work and it was time for the ice bath. Fuck that for a game of soldiers. I had intended on being the first in going in, but by this time, seriously what was the point? It wasn’t going to do anything for me. But I joined in and encouraged my room mate (the loveliest sweetest guy you could hope to meet) when he did his. The water was at two degrees and the ice bath was filled with ice cubes (odd that) and they dived in one after another. All I could think of was the failure. I had learned nothing, got nothing. 

Then lunch. Back for the final session. We went thru what would happen next and were told we might have more thoughts in the coming fortnight. Oh great, more grief to come then? Thanks a bunch. We did the roundup and said what we had got. Words like friendship, love, compassion. It got to me and I didn’t want to bring the group down, so I just said “pass”. Then we all danced. Well they did. I’d mentally and emotionally checked out by this point. Back to the airport. All I had got was a sense of despair and failure. My anger against myself was really intense right now. 

Why? Why was that all I thought. Nothing constructive, no insights, absolutely fuck all. No new connections, no new insights, just grief piled on grief. Total failure. All I had done was replay the same old story again. What was the point in my brain doing that? Hadn’t I had enough grief already? What was the point of it all? So much for trusting my brain to know what to do. Utter bollocks. No visuals, no insightful thoughts, no “ego death”, and none of the experiences that I was after. Useless, useless, useless. 

The day after. 

I was actually fairly calm, with my brain back in some sort of order. Total fucking waste of time. What a disaster. I decided to just put it to one side, and take BobDog for a walk in the woods. So I just walked, and walked. 

And then, dear reader, it happened. Bang, bang bang. One thought after another. Coming out of absolutely nowhere. Connections racing around my head, and I saw, for the first time, what was probably obvious to other people. I was so angry at Jill’s death, with a raging fury. But it wasn’t her fault, she didn’t want to die, so I couldn’t be angry with her. The doctors did all they could, so it wasn’t their fault. And cancer isn’t a thing that I could be angry at because in a real sense it doesn’t exist as an entity. The only one left was me. And by god, that was where I had sent my fury. I attacked myself because there wasn’t another option. I had blamed myself. I should have done more. I should have saved her. I promised her with my life I would keep her safe, and she died. She. Just. Fucking. Died. And somehow, it was my fault. Because my grief had turned to anger that had nowhere else to go. And I have tortured myself for years for that. Grief sat on one shoulder and anger on the other. There was nowhere else for it to go. I have carried those two spectres around for so long, weighing me down. Letting them, because what else could I do?

Bam bam bam! More thoughts, more new connections. We had worked so hard between us to keep her alive, we did everything we could and it hadn’t worked. And if I was angry at myself for my failure that equally meant I was angry with Jill for failing as well. That was never going to happen. If I couldn’t be angry with Jill, logically I couldn’t be angry with me. And if I was angry with me, I had to be angry at her. It’s a binary choice. I walked around my lovely woods watching BobDog happily going from one sniff to the next without a care in the world. Free and happy.  

And it wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t her fault. People just die. For no good reason. And it happens to us all. It. Wasn’t. My. Fault. IT WASN’T MY FAULT. It just happened. It wasn’t fair, but life isn’t fair. And that was what my brain was telling me. That was where I had to go, one last time. I had taken the drug, and my brain let me feel the emotions that anger had kept inside. And the connections had started slowly in the background, tick tick tick, without me realising it. I had to repeat that awful experience, the worst experience of my life, but this time it was different. This time my brain was letting me take it and letting me make new connections and see everything in a different perspective. Clever, clever psilocybin, clever Phil’s brain. 

My brain hadn’t tricked me and it wasn’t continuing to torture me. But like one of those wise old sages that never answer a question with a straightforward reply, instead it gave me some sort of riddle. I had to go there once more, to visit the grief, experience it and instead of shutting it down, just let it leave me. The grief wasn’t flowing around and around like some insane whirlpool, it was flowing out and away, while anger, in a panic, took one last vicious kick at me, and while I was interpreting it as just another attack it was actual the last kicks of a dying animal. I had been held by both facilitators, who showed me the compassion that anger had refuse to allow in. And those lovely 8 strangers had cared for me as well. They didn’t blame me either. They held me and hugged me. 

And I am at peace. I have understanding. I let the emotions in and finally sat with them. My brain just sat back and let it happen. I think can now remember Jill as she deserves to be remembered, without the grief and anger blocking everything else. My brain waited and reset itself, tearing up the old rail tracks of thought and laying new ones. Just as I had read, and thought and hoped. Psilocybin had worked its magic. 

I still have a long way to go, and still have much to do, and I’ll be following up with the group in the coming weeks. But I did an amazing thing. I went out of my comfort zone so far that nothing else can compare to it. And I worked so hard in the last few months. The drugs got me high and my brain responded and I remembered things and put them in order. I am proud of what I achieved. I did something that most people couldn’t or wouldn’t do. And my brain, my funny weird, clever, strong little brain took the drug and used it exactly how it needed to be used. That is fucking awesome. And I’m taking this feeling forward with me, because I’ve faced the worst thing I could imagine and I overcame it. 

In an earlier blog post I quoted from one of my favourite trance songs “Where do we go from here” by Gareth Emery, which really resonates with me. So I’m sharing a little bit more of it. 

Tonight though, it’s you and me

We gonna live in the moment, experience the now 

Forget fear, forget politics

Life isn’t life when you’re terrified of death

And death is the one thing that’s guaranteed for us all

So we’re gonna live

We’re gonna jump off cliffs into oceans

Take planes to far away places

Find friends, new lovers

Staying up late talkin’ shit about everything and nothin’

Follow the music wherever it takes us

Because tonight is tonight

And tomorrow we can decide

“Where do we go from here?”

I am me. The same me. The different me. The me who finally understands. The me who has found acceptance. I am content.  

Postscript. 

One of the things that psilocybin does, or can do, is amplify emotions that are already there. While it was letting the emotions do their thing, it got on in the background fixing things while the rest of me dealt with the emotions after 16 years. 

Because I tend to deal with words, abstract ideas and introspection I’m less inclined towards visuals apparently. I’m not sure that I’ll ever see the visuals as a result; I’m just going to deal with words and thoughts instead. And that’s ok. 

The experience itself, of the trip, was awful. It was really, really bad and it’s one of the most awful things I have ever experienced.  But it’s what I needed to do in order to find a way forward. 

I certainly couldn’t have done it by myself. I started with the courage to face it and to deal with it. That marvellous little drug didn’t let me down at all. I worked really hard and I’m proud of that too. And the retreat gave me the safe setting I needed to do face it, supported by a wonderful group of strangers who accepted me, held me and gave me the compassion I couldn’t find for myself. 

The experience was very different to all the other drugs I have used. I don’t know if I’ll try it again. But perhaps I don’t need to. 

Would I recommend it to anyone else? Yes, under certain conditions. If you’re prepared to work really hard to understand yourself is the first step. I think you need to get into a really deep well of despair first. And you need to do it with people who are really skilled in understanding the drug and who can create a safe compassionate environment in which to take it, along with a bunch of amazing people you can travel with. And thanks to you, for keeping me company on the way.