My First Ketamine Therapy Experience

The Void opens my eyes and asks: "Do you remember?"

Last November, a combination of mindfulness and ketamine therapy saved my life.

You can read more about that here:

Shattered: Life 2.0

When sharing my journey, I’ve found the most common question is, “What’s the experience like?”

So far, I’ve undergone seven intramuscular sessions, with the first three as the most psychologically impactful.

Here, I’d like to detail those experiences in a series of posts. If you have any questions or would like to share yours, please comment below!

Waiting for the Dawn

The night before my first session, I wrote:

We all hide parts of ourselves from the world that might be dark, damaged, and deeply traumatized.

In an effort to meet and find compassion for my darkness—without taking more addictive, soul-crushing medications—I’m undergoing intramuscular ketamine therapy tomorrow. And honestly, I’m scared sh*tless.

I’ve spent so long trying to retain control that one of my biggest fears is losing it, and of what my shadow might reveal when given the chance.

Stepping into the unknown is always scary, I suppose. If I’ve learned anything throughout this journey, though, it’s that it takes radical acceptance to uncover anything worthwhile about one’s inner universe.

Wish me luck, cosmonauts.

“Education is a continual process. It’s like a bicycle… if you don’t pedal, you don’t go forward.” - George Weah

The Set & Setting

Today, my session is scheduled at Skylight Psychedelics in the foothills of Evergreen, Colorado, just outside Denver. Dana, the facility’s Medical Director, and her staff were kind and compassionate throughout the initial intake process, all of which was handled over the phone and online.  

My stomach’s tied in knots as I walk through the front doors, but as I enter the session space, Briana, the physician assistant, is seated to my left and smiling warmly.

On the wall to my right is a large, gold-and-blue painted medallion of a jaguar, set beside a light-filled window, which allows for views of the hillside forest outside. Beneath the window is a table filled with ritualistic supplies like sage and various scents.

Image credit: Skylight Psychedelics

I walk toward Briana, say hello, and sit on the full-sized bed, which is stocked with plenty of pillows.

We’ve spoken before, so we briefly discuss any new developments and agree on the dosage (0.75 mg/kg). I also ask a couple of questions about what I’m going to experience.

Image credit: Skylight Psychedelics

Before leaving the room to prepare the ketamine injection, she grabs a cuff and takes my blood pressure and heart rate, both of which are elevated.

Yep, I’m nervous as sh*t.

While she’s gone, my mind races.

What if I lose my mind? What if I access a part of me that should never be touched? What if I turn into a blubbering mess? What if I pee myself?

After a few minutes, she walks back into the room. I sit at the edge of the bed and relax my arm while she applies an alcohol swab.

“Are you ready?” she asks. I nod and barely feel the needle before she’s finished.

I place the Mindfold mask over my eyes, pull the light comforter up to my waist, lay my head back on two pillows, and take a few deep, relaxing breaths.

She starts the playlist.

Here we go.

Remembering The Void

After a few minutes, I feel a lightness sweeping through my body. It’s a little alarming, but I also want to be carried by it.

I notice a background hum; a subtle vibration, but it’s not like anything I’ve heard.

The only visual cues are pinpoints of white light, like neurons sending electrical signals to one another.

I know I’m moving. Slow at first, but I quickly pick up speed.

Faster yet, existence begins rolling, like undulating waves, which grow larger until they break.

Like rewinding a record, the humming reverses, and everything I know as ‘Derek,’ every reference point I have to reality, folds into itself, faster and faster.

Inception comes to mind (credit: Warner Bros. Pictures):

Eventually, there is only The Void.

I don’t think words exist to describe The Void adequately, at least not in English, but I’m certainly not the first person to refer to it in this way. It’s what exists before, during, and after. It is The Ultimate Truth.

Here, I am an infinitesimally small speck of ‘consciousness’ (whatever that is) floating in never-ending blackness.

The Void is a contradiction:

• It’s nowhere, yet everywhere.

• It contains nothing but everything.

• It’s terrifying but comforting.

Here, I’m alone, yet also surrounded.

More than anything, though, I remember this place.

This is home.

This is where I was before.

I realize I never really left, though. I understand that separation from The Void is the Great Illusion.

I’m always home; all I have to do is mindfully breathe, remember, and smile.

The Void smiles back, for we are the same.

The Void holds no answers.

The Void is the answer.

Basking in remembrance, I float until I begin hearing, the background playlist in small increments.

Physicality starts returning. I slowly grasp the concept of a thing named ‘Derek’ that exists in ‘time’ on a spinning rock called ‘earth.’  

I remember that I’m at the Skylight office. So many thoughts race through my mind, and I want to ask Briana about all of them.

I try to speak, but little comes out other than slurred sounds. I think she responds, but my reality is still too skewed to interpret it.  

As everything comes back into focus, I decide to relax. I pull my legs up, rest my feet on the bed, fold my hands across my solar plexus, and take slow, mindful breaths.

Eventually, I feel stable enough to remove the mask and open my eyes.

I squint at the light, and a smile creeps across my face.

Downloads: Mindful Tools for Combatting Depression

“Reality lies on the frontier between what you think is you and what you think is not you.” – David Whyte

I sit up on the edge of the bed as Briana and I have a—very—basic discussion about my experience.

I realize I had been in The Void for about an hour. However, time was meaningless there. It could have been 10 seconds or 10 million years.

After making sure I’m stable, I slowly stand up and shuffle out of the room. I feel like I’m wearing moon boots.

She walks me toward the front door, and I continue shuffling to my ride.

I get in, and as soon as the car starts moving, I realize I’m very nauseous. I close my eyes and lean forward, keeping my face in my palms the whole ride home.

I’m grateful once we arrive and the movement stops. As soon as I walk through the door, I make my way to the couch, climb on top, and close my eyes. Sleep comes easy.

Upon waking, I feel euphoric. It’s a sensation I haven’t experienced in a long time and lingers for three or four days.

Over the next week or so, I also receive many “downloads.”

These are difficult to describe, but the best term that comes to mind is ‘truths’—some about the world in general, some about me, specifically—that come into focus. Using these truths as mindful tools, I can maintain a baseline when depression inevitably creeps into the edges of my psyche.

I also wrestle with a new “spiritual” recognition.

While I don’t have any answers about where I went or whether this place was internal or external, I do know that ketamine took me somewhere I immediately recognized as home.

There, I remembered that ‘Derek’ is worthy of love and happiness. And it feels glorious.

Overall, for this first session, I found that ketamine was gentle, but I wouldn’t classify it as easy.

I feel like I was picked up, tossed around, and mixed up. I was part of everything yet separate, like ink in water. I understand now why people in K-holes hold onto something like their life depends on it.

Ketamine cradled me, but she also turned my head toward the truth, opened my eyes, and asked, “Do you remember?”

Onward & Upward

In my next post, I’ll talk about my second session, which occurred only a couple of days later.

There, I get more comfortable, gain a lay of the land, open up, and explore.

What do you think about this post? Do you have unanswered questions? Let me know below.