Ketamine was originally used as an animal tranquilizer and is a close cousin to PCP or Angel Dust (remember hearing those urban legends when you were a teen about joints laced with Angel Dust and users were jumping out of windows?) It became a party drug and in the last decade was discovered to have therapeutic benefits for depression and PTSD in patients.
I did my first Ketamine therapy session two weeks ago through an online therapy treatment program that includes six ketamine treatments, pre and post care from a nurse practitioner and a “journey guide”. I was really anxious to make sure everything was just right with all the steps involved: I took my anti-nausea meds an hour before the session, made sure I had no food three hours before the session (nausea can happen if the drug is swallowed.) Took my blood pressure. I created a comfortable quiet space of pillows and blankets to nest in, put a table next to the bed with my journal to record my thoughts post-session (it’s part of the session of intention setting, then writing about your experience an hour after taking the medicine while it’s still fresh in your mind.) Next to my journal I had a glass of mouthwash and a spit cup—you keep the ketamine between your cheek and gums for seven minutes then spit it out— it’s pretty bitter. It’s important to rinse your mouth and not swallow any as you could become nauseous or be under the influence for hours (both outcomes sounding equally horrible as I’ve some bad experiences with psychedelics and THC edibles.) I had my soft blindfold around my eyes, headphones on my ears with the music queued up. The session music is a very important aspect of the session. The app has several choices, all very new-agey and soothing. The one I picked reminded me of a planetarium show, learning about stars, feeling the vast sense of the universe and how our problems are so insignificant in comparison. The music also serves a clock for the whole session. For the first first seven minutes there’s a man talking about something philosophical, I imagine from a TED talk on human consciousness (“Why do we fear death when we’re not fully present right now? Does that even make us alive?”) As you listen you’ve got the Ketamine dissolving in your mouth, then seven minutes in he stops talking and a bell rings which is your cue to spit out the medicine and rinse your mouth. My face was numb at that point and it started to spread throughout my body.
The session didn’t go as planned as the internet connection was spotty in my room and the Mindbloom app crashed at that point. I was supposed to be chilling out thinking about my positive intentions but instead I was freaking out that I couldn’t get the thing to restart and I frantically ran down stairs to the living room where the internet signal was stronger as my legs were starting to go numb (I was also impressed that any drugs taken sublingually work that fast.) Lucky for me, my Trip Babysitter was there to help guide me (or, Peer Treatment Monitor as the program calls them, which sounds more clinical and less of a party.) As I threw my body on to the couch there was no time to get comfy, I was starting to go into a kind of paralysis, but it was a warming feeling. My headphones were slipped over my ears, my eye mask pulled down to set the stage. I tried to get the negative thoughts out of my head as I settled in (why do I always fuck up things like this? I try so hard but I can’t do anything right when it comes to detailed instructions. At least I know next time to make sure the app works before I put the medicine in my mouth. At least I have five more chances to have a more positive session than this one. I hope this therapy works, it was kind of expensive. Should I be focusing on my intentions or just seeing what pops into my head?)
I noticed my body relax. My hands were by my side and they felt like were glued there, but I wiggled my toes like a baby so I knew I wasn’t paralyzed. I felt a smile pour over my face and as the side of my mouth rose up there were rays of bright sunlight that beamed upward into space. I was completely conscious the whole time so it was like observing something on TV. Oooh, look at that spaceship slowly going over my head like the ones on Star Trek. Of course you’re hallucinating a space theme, Melissa. This music is like what they play at the planatarium science shows. I wonder if I can create my own trippy visuals by just thinking of them? Ok, I’ve got one! There it is- I see a slow dark tunnel waving like a snake moving away from me in space and it represents the mental shit I want to let go of. Of course you would think of that, Melissa. Your metaphors are becoming visualizations, duh.
Thoughts are like monkeys that want to play when you try to meditate. Yes, it’s trying to meditate so the monkeys get more restless to get your attention when you try. I tried to relax my mind and “go with the flow” as my guide told me before the session. I think a few times I was in and out of consciousness and feeling like I was floating through space, but once I started seeing trippy visuals the monkeys would come in to the scene and ruin it— “Wow, look at this cool looking stuff. I hope it doesn’t get too intense. I wonder how long I’ve been lying here. Will I get bored? This isn’t as scary as I thought its would be. I’ll do even better next time….oh damn it, I’ve been consciously thinking the whole time! How is this going to help my PTSD if I can’t let go of my damn thoughts?
Then the music got quieter and a bell rang which is the one hour alarm to sit up and start journaling, then I had my prescheduled Zoom call with my guide. The Ketamine experience is meant to peak in under an hour but I felt groggy like I was still in a dream. I told her about my intense visuals and she was impressed as most don’t have hallucinations on such a small dose (the program starts you on a small dose and increases it.) Then I confessed something that kept popping in my head randomly during my session. It’s a memory that pops in my head when I’m trying to fall asleep but I’m feeling anxious. I didn’t bother to explain the context first, I just spoke in a stream of consciousness.
“So I’m at the Rockridge or the MacArthur BART station, the inbound side of the platform waiting for the train. It’s a slow Sunday afternoon, you feel the golden burning rays of sun on your skin and it’s cool icy shadow. It’s quiet, hardly anyone there. You just hear the distant roar of the freeway traffic and the squeal of the train cars coming and going on the other platform. That cold wind that starts every day in the afternoon is blowing from the tracks and giving me goosebumps, it always gets into my bones and makes me shiver no matter what time of year it is. There’s the metallic smell of the tracks and concrete and that persistent scent of Eucalyptus trees that you only notice when you leave California and then come back. Hardly anyone is at the station so I’m a little anxious I might be bothered or mugged as I’m by myself but mostly feeling the worst loneliness in my pit of my stomach. Sunday afternoons are the worst for that lonely feeling but being in the Bay Area when I first moved there was the worst.”
I had only informally met my journey guide online once and didn’t know much about