Recovery and Psychedelics

From Bill W. to Me

I wanted this piece to have a feeling and an energy to it. However, to me it does not. I do not like how this turned out. This is “the bad pitch.” To break free from the conditioning to results, I am publishing it anyway. Is this masochism? Perhaps. Recovery is a big part of my life. Psychedelics have helped me improve my life. I think my experience is rare, though not unique, and I feel like I fumbled at the 1-yard line in writing it down. Sometimes this happens in writing. I’m not used to writing something that is so tied to my identity. Anyway, I don’t say any of this for mercy but instead to share the awareness of my perceived limitations and to hold myself accountable to improve. I strive to be authentic and sincere in a world that is consumed by superficial profiles. Maybe one day my writing will reach a point where I am not so self-conscious about it.

The topic for this piece came about after celebrating a recent birthday. At 38, I think about what has changed and what still needs to change. I also thought, “Wow, out of the 38 years I’ve been alive, 16 of them have been sober years.” I entered recovery for good on February 14, 2009. I remember my farewell tour with alcohol well. My last drink was a glass of Crown Royal on the rocks, and that was it. I was done. The only time I can remember having just one was when I had one. I’m usually pretty open about my recovery, but not as much in public. I think what makes me uncomfortable is it seeming like some “look at what I’ve done” thing, which can diminish my experience and feel performative. The other side of my inner monologue is one of tremendous pride in taking action to change my life at such a young age.

At 21, I was not thriving. I was unreliable, dishonest, anxious, temperamental, and caused a lot of emotional wreckage in a short time. What prompted my decision to seek recovery was an intervention by family and friends after a few run-ins with law enforcement. This event turned out to be a tremendous gift. I never thought I would be one of those people who are intervened on. I didn’t see it coming, but I wasn’t blindsided either. I had been a blackout drinker since I was 15 and was stuck in a cycle of arrests and bad behavior. When the people in the room read their letters about the pain I had caused them, I was ready to change. Opportunity met willingness, as the saying goes. Pain is a powerful motivator, and I realized at that moment that I was suffering just as they were.

I ended up going back into treatment. Third time’s the charm. I was attending groups, doing “the deal,” and following through on what was asked of me. Although the idea of never drinking for the rest of my life seemed overwhelming, I had no interest in returning to all the nonsense that led to my current situation. I believe I am lucky because the desire to drink has not come back in 16 years. No matter how anxious, depressed, angry, or filled with any other emotion I’ve been, the drinking issue was gone. I don’t know how to explain it better. Now, figuring out how to live my life was a whole other challenge, which is why I’ve been part of 12-step programs ever since.

Quick aside, getting sober at a young age is strange. Anyone who has gone through something similar can confirm this, and I know they are out there because we sometimes cross paths at meetings. My experience was that I was usually the youngest person in the room by about a decade, and I was committed to staying sober – most young people at 12-step meetings are looking to date and mess around. Not judging, just my observation. The other huge part of recovery was that I thought 12-step programs were going to help me not drink. To my surprise, I quickly realized that the program was going to teach me how to live and that I needed to change my entire way of thinking, behaving, and acting. I was about to start a very different journey than I expected.

It's interesting to reflect on being part of a program invested in change (such as a 12-step group) and also working in a profession that helps people make changes. As I get older and gain more recovery time, I am sure of only one thing: human beings are excellent at hiding things from themselves. I've attended many meetings over the past 16 years, worked with sponsees, gone to therapy, and helped my clients, and the pattern remains the same: we sometimes struggle to see the truth. This distortion is a big reason many people stay stuck in a cycle. I mention all this because psychedelics and psychedelic-assisted therapy are becoming mainstream again, and I have personally benefited from using them. Yes, my sponsor knows. Yes, people in my circle are aware, and many may be learning this now by reading this.

I felt the need to share my experience as a sober person with psychedelics because I've seen many people struggle in 12-step programs, and I believe there are alternative options available. I hope this doesn’t sound evangelical or indulgent, but my goal is to help someone find their way out of addiction. One of the sad truths about addiction is that there are only a few possible outcomes for people like me. The first is that we get sober and live a long, fulfilling life. Sadly, sobriety is the least likely result. The other options are staying caught in a cycle of addiction, ending up in an institution (jail, hospital), or dying. Death is all too common, and I wish I were less familiar with it. Here is what led me to explore the potential of psychedelics for emotional healing.

In 2019, I returned to school to become a psychotherapist. I was also in therapy at that time. Like many men I now work with, I struggled to be more open and vulnerable with my emotions in my relationships. Traditional talk therapy only took me so far. At the time, I was working for LA County as a child therapist with families involved with the Department of Child and Family Services. I was taking on a lot of vicarious trauma but didn’t realize it until I became very depressed months later. I knew intellectually what feelings I should be experiencing, but I only felt anger and frustration. I felt very stuck. My therapist, who was also sober, suggested I consider psychedelic-assisted therapy, specifically with psilocybin. I was initially hesitant, but I researched the possibility. Yes, I read 'How to Change Your Mind,' but I also looked into studies from Johns Hopkins and the fantastic work of Roland Griffiths. The more I learned about psychedelic research, the more I became open to it as an option to help me move forward.

I have to admit, I was afraid of being ostracized by my sober community. Deep down, I knew that what I was doing wasn't a relapse. Still, I worried others would label me a relapser. Not that there’s anything wrong with relapsing, but I knew that wasn't my truth. I believe addiction is mostly about avoiding pain. When someone takes a high dose of psilocybin, they aren't avoiding anything. The mushrooms lower inhibitions and ego defenses, so everything I had been suppressing surfaced. I wasn’t trying to escape pain; I was looking for a way to handle the emotional turmoil I was experiencing. I took a risk and talked to a few close friends in the program, and I was surprised by their support. My wife was also supportive, and that was all I needed. It also helped that my therapist was sober and had expressed similar worries before starting the path I was about to take. I was on my way.

My first experience with psychedelics was a microdosing protocol in 2020. This involves taking a subperceptual dose of psilocybin—you don’t feel anything—and it functions roughly like an SSRI in your system. Overall, my experiences were positive and helped reduce some of the depression caused by the pandemic. I noticed that on the dose days, I was more irritable than usual. Fortunately, this began to shift, and my overall mood seemed lighter. After a few months, I decided to participate in a therapeutic session and take 4.5 grams of psilocybin with a therapist guiding me. We prepared by discussing what I wanted to explore in an altered state and my intentions for taking such a high dose. Let me say that it's impossible to describe what happened that night precisely. I don’t want to diminish my experience, as typing out the messages I received would be lost in translation. I can share that I gained insight into how I harm my relationships by not being present and open to new experiences. I experienced a lot of grief that night and connected with feelings I had previously been unable to access consciously. My experience was healing and expanded my understanding of how to live the life I desire. However, there was a problem. I had no practice in being a more relational person. I couldn’t change just based on the insights I gained alone. To me, this is the biggest misconception about psychedelics—they are NOT a magic bullet.

Most people in the psychedelic community understand that a lot of work comes after a psychedelic session. Yes, there are snake oil salesmen out there claiming psychedelics will cure all your problems, but please ignore them. Most educated people know that applying insights from a session into their lives is the real key to change, similar to the psychotherapy process. My ultimate goal was to no longer need psychedelics to connect with my feelings. It took some time to get there.

Along my journey, I have had other experiences with psilocybin, MDMA, LSD, and ayahuasca. I have also participated in silent meditation retreats, as well as men’s healing retreats. I try not to leave any stone unturned. Most importantly, I have consistently attended 12-step meetings and have been of service to my community. I think that psychedelics have benefited my recovery the most because I struggle being compassionate with other sober people at times. I believe my role as a psychotherapist also contributes to this. Sometimes I want to scream the answer to someone on how to solve their problem, but that’s not fair or helpful. My journey with psychedelics has helped me remember the struggle of growing that started for me on February 14, 2009. I am a much more present person today because of them.