Episode on Episodes: The Therapeutic Effects of Magic Mushrooms (Part One).
By: Sara Barqawi
Tags: Ego, Life Lessons, Therapy, Psychedelics, Nature

I will make a promise to you, reader, that this isn’t a wishy washy excuse to abuse nature’s finest.

Rather, it was peak midwinter, in the middle of our third national lockdown, when I decided that magic mushrooms could work towards resolving some of my existential misery.

Work was miserable; I couldn’t take another ‘daily walk’ around the park, and I’d just been unceremoniously dumped over text. The most skin contact I had for months was found in my wine.

Because our minds punctuate our memories through moments rather than days, I had few memories during the winter lockdown: time was slow and fast. Even though the ‘future was bright,’ I had very little to look forwards to.

Lockdown Three had lowered me into the lowest depressive ebb I’d experienced to date.

I tried to sort it out with the help of some psychoactive funghi.

Some background Science Gubbins on why it might work

While psilocybin research had a positive start in life as a viable treatment to various mental health problems, the Fun Police diminished a flood of research to a trickle. The US government ramped up its war on drugs, and in 1970 President Nixon introduced the Controlled Substances Act, rendering psilocybin, mescaline, LSD, and DMT illegal.

They’re said to activate your serotonin receptors. Brain function is less constrained while under the influence, which means you’re better able to ‘emotion’. And the networks in your brain are far more connected, which allows for a higher state of consciousness and introspection.

This, in turn, helps you out of your rut.

The theory goes, people under the influence of psychedelics can confront their painful pasts or self-destructive behavior without shame or fear.

Preparation and Safety

Although I read it was safest to hang out in your own home with a trustworthy sober sitter, away from roads, bodies of water, or anything you can fall off into, I’d also read that a mushroom experience in nature was optimum.

And, just like the rest of Hackney and Tower Hamlets that day, off I went to Vicky Park, where I eventually bumped into a very senior ex-colleague, who I can confirm, had three heads at the time of the accidental meeting. He was thankfully quite kind to the state he found me in.

I took the capsules and sat with the Daffodils, armed with a water bottle, a jumper, and an app called ‘trip’ so I could log my experience. I carefully weened myself off antidepressants 10 days before to avoid serotonin syndrome.

The Trip

I found a patch to meditate on and chucked headspace into my ears for as long as I could stand Andy Puddicombe for (this was when I realised I really needed to find a new app). I quickly realised that Hot Chip’s delectable synth pop was much better for the ears.

I started to descend into lightheadedness, where I began to experience visuals. The world had its very own heartbeat and breath — it looked as though it was being processed by a mild kaleidoscope.

It was tremendously comfortable to indulge in ‘what ifs’— what if the world around us was well and truly alive, even though we’d all died inside a little bit by Lockdown 3?

Physically, I felt like a human version of A tube man or an air dancer that you’d see at events. Emotionally, I felt really in tune with the world around me — an overwhelming sense of love.

As though there was one large world order and nature was working together to run the show — I got a sense of my own insignificance in the grander scheme of things.

Now, I promise I’m not mad: I was particularly convinced that, mushrooms were a sort of Brian Cox — a mouthpiece or translator that worked on the behalf nature to explain and withhold what was going on. The daffodils told me things, but they kept a lot secret.

While I had my knickers in a twist about the most insignificant things on the day-to-day, from the complex I have about my chronic uncoolness to my chronic unlovability, they all dissipated. It turns out, they don’t really matter.

The mystical gangs of daffodils

The most therapeutic aspect was the feeling of all senses of judgment, discipline and criticism over myself, shed. I was kind of able to surrender my feelings to my surroundings — for the first time ever, I was completely okay with being vulnerable because I had an overwhelming sense that everything would be alright.

Our ego erects boundaries that can make us feel isolated from the people around us, and disconnected from nature and even ourselves. A heady mushroom trip strips these down. My self-image, self-esteem, and self-identity had all dissipated — I was a high little amoeba of oneness and acceptance.

I later learned this was called ‘The Ego Death’. It can often increase traits like openness and empathy. it can also show us a ‘true’, unbiased reality — therefore illustrating where our egos have “lied” to us to preserve self-image, self-identity, and self-esteem.

The brief enmeshment of self and others also serves to grant the realization that we are all connected. In a world where we’re really fucking isolated, we could all do with feeling a part of something.

And it’s this notion of “oneness” is among the criteria psychedelic scientists use to qualify the “mystical experience,” which correlates with higher rates of healing among those using psychedelics for conditions like addiction or depression.

I tried to hang on for a bit longer, but some sense of self-awareness kicked in — the wholesome kiwi family having their family picnic might phone Homerton Hosptial to pick up a strange gargling woman in the egg print jumper.

Moving Forwards

Although I tried my hardest to make this as therapeutically ironclad as possible through meditation and journaling, it was still an experience rather than a complete healing process.

For psychedelics to fulfill their true therapeutic potential, you need integration therapy. It entails roughly 4 weeks of intention setting, physical and mental preparation, followed by 8 weeks of integrating your trip learnings and marrying them up with your conscious beliefs. It is said that the neuroplasticity from your trip lasts 90 days.

This is often particularly good alongside psychotherapy. While psychotherapy helps you understand what’s wrong with you, this is perfect for figuring out what’s right with you.

Given the illegal nature of psychedelics, that’s quite hard (but not impossible) to find. And that, my friends, will be Mushrooms: part 2, in good time.

Did it help me? Yes.

Was it a reckless and possibly stupid thing to do by myself in Vicky park? Probably also yes.

Is this blog career limiting? Almost certainly.

Would I do it again? I would.

Would I recommend it: if it’s something you can do safely, and it’s something you think may help you, yes. At the end of the day, you know your minds and bodies. Always research before you try things out — especially when they can be forever mind-altering.