Where I went from there

 A week on. It was a week ago that I first rocked up at the retreat, and a few days ago that I was finally able to get some closure on Jill’s death. We were told that things might continue to occur when we got back home. And they certainly did, as I’ve previously described when walking around the woods. I thought that was pretty much it, but it’s continued to happen. It’s really weird, because a thought just strikes out of the blue and instantly gives you a totally different perspective on things. 

Happened again today. I’ve had what can best be described as a difficult relationship with my mother. I had demonised her I think, and I had a lot of anger towards her. And I could still be angry, but there’s no point in that. I can’t actually talk to her about it because she’s been dead almost 19 years to the day. I did have a therapist for a while before I sacked her, and she suggested writing her a letter. That has always annoyed me as a concept because she’s never going to read it, because she’s dead. Ever the practical one, me. 

But today, I was finally able to really take on board that she had her own demons, and they ruled her life, and she was never able to escape from them. And instead of being angry at her, I was finally able to see her with a level of compassion that has been unavailable to me until now. She was stuck and couldn’t move forward. I think she tried her best - what mother doesn’t. She found emotions difficult to deal with, and had built her own protective walls up so high she couldn’t help me as a child when I was struggling. She just wasn’t strong enough to break out of it, and that’s very sad, and I think her whole life she suffered. And to be fair, she had a lot to go through, especially during the war. A convoy she was on back to the UK from South Africa got attacked by German U boats. When she got back to London she almost got killed by a V2 rocket, stuff like that. And even the strongest person is going to struggle with that. 

I’m sure she would have been horrified to see the state that I was in, and that she unwillingly played a part in. When I was using drugs to reach back into my memories I always imagined her as much taller than me, I only came up to her shoulders every time I thought about her. Now however, I see her as a much smaller figure, and I’m the larger one. She couldn’t break out, but I did. I was able to find the strength of mind, and had the intuition to work out what I had to do. My mind is much stronger than hers was. And a week ago that would have been impossible for me to say that, but it’s true. That’s not me boasting, it’s just true, and I’m not going to add any caveats to it, it just is. 

There are things she did that I still can’t forgive, and never ever will. And that’s ok as well. But she was a poor lost soul, covering up, masking and doing her best in what was actually an intolerable situation. I won’t elaborate further because it’s not my story to tell. And I’ve been able to reframe the narrative, to rip up those rigid train tracks of thought and lay down some new ones. And I feel better for it. 

And then I looked at that little boy, 5 or 6, dealing with enormous things, with very little help or understanding. And I worked through them by myself. I thought about them and rationalised them. I did that. No one helped that sad little boy. When my grandmother died, there was no such thing as counselling and my parents were both distraught, dealing with their own grief. And yeah, maybe they could have done more to help me, but I don’t think they did. They probably didn’t know how and chose to let me deal with it myself. And eventually after two years of grief I did. I didn’t do it the right way, but I did all that I could and I was only 8 - 10 years old. I locked all the emotions away. And to do that by myself is an immense thing to achieve. To be able to find a solution; any solution. Far from being a weak incapable child I saved myself by myself. He was such a poor sad little boy. And such a brave one as well. That was him, and that was me. I feel sorry for him, and I’m proud of what he achieved with resources he found for himself. 

One of my intentions on going to the Retreat was to let go of the past, and surely, bit by bit I’m being able to do that. Didn’t think it at the time, but being out of my head with grief does that.  I love the way that psilocybin, even though it’s all out of my body now, is still having an effect. Those neurons are still firing away, connecting in different ways, displaying different thoughts and ideas, all without my intentional interference, they’re just still doing it. And for me, that’s such a comforting thought. My brain is still sorting things out all by itself and then giving them to me as fully fledged thoughts. I guess some people might find that a bit freaky, but I went into this experience trusting that my brain would know what to do if given the chance, and it’s doing exactly that, hand in glove with psilocybin. I bloody love that drug! 

I’m not sure yet if I’ll have any more to write on this whole experience, I’ll have to wait and see. I’m more than ok with what I’ve achieved. But one of the things that I’d like YOU to take away from my experience is that, in the right caring setting, with the right pre-retreat work a psychedelic drug, which is entirely 100% natural can be so beneficial. It’s nothing to demonise, it just does what it should do, and it’s so helpful. Attitudes towards it are beginning to change as more academic work is being done. It’s so much better than ramming antidepressants down your throat, both in my opinion and my experience. Now, I’m certainly not suggesting you all run out and find someone to sell you MDMA (which is actually a damn good idea!), just please remain open to the idea that not all Class A drugs are equal. Psilocybin is natural, not concocted in a laboratory. It’s not addictive, and you can’t really overdose on it. Yet cigarettes and alcohol, which do so many terrible things to the body are freely and legally available. You’ve got to ask yourself why that’s the case. And it could treat so many people, and if I’m anything to go by, it works so much better than any SSRI or SNRI ever could. It is called “magic” for a reason! I love having had it, and have it working in my body and my mind breaking down the old patterns. Tremendously comforting, and though the actual trip was awful, it was exactly what I needed. In the final analysis it did the job I wanted, and I’m a happier person as a result.