So, to find yourself, you’ve decided to meet up with Moon Night at some wellness retreat and go on a journey into cosmic fart dust. Brave. Or desperate. Or both. Sometimes self-discovery doesn’t come through quiet reflection, green smoothies, or a meditation app with a bloke whispering about “inner peace.” Sometimes it comes from staring at the universe with tears running down your face, snot dripping down your shirt, and your soul whispering, “Mate, we need to talk.”
Those who know me know I don’t shy away from trying something new. Some people buy motorbikes during a midlife crisis. Some get hair plugs. Me? I’ve taken the psychedelic route. To be blunt, I have done what is known as magic mushrooms. My friend even convinced me to talk about it on national TV.
And mushrooms are just the start. There are so many more. Ayahuasca. LSD. MDMA-assisted therapy. San Pedro cactus. And one of the heavy hitters, Ibogaine, which seems to be on the rise with a lot of my veteran mates. Each of these has its own personality. Some whisper. Some slap you in the face. Some rip the rug out from under you, expose all your bullshit, and leave you standing there naked (figuratively, sometimes literally), wondering who the hell you really are.
What is Psychedelic Therapy?
Let’s strip the fluff: psychedelic therapy isn’t about dropping acid and ecstasy and dancing with glow sticks in a nightclub (though, I did do this in my youth). It’s structured, intentional, and usually guided by someone who knows what they’re doing.
The premise is simple: psychedelics break down the walls in your head, the ones you’ve spent years stacking with trauma, shame, regret, pride, and a healthy dose of stubbornness. When those walls come down, you’re left face-to-face with yourself. No filters. No excuses. The “therapy” part isn’t the drug; it’s what you do with the truths that come out.
Think of it as spring cleaning for the soul, except instead of tossing out old socks, you’re dragging shitty experiences, childhood wounds, failed relationships, and unprocessed grief into the light. It’s not pretty, but it’s real.
My Experiences
Every session I did showed me something I needed to know. Sometimes it was beautiful, like being hugged by the universe. Other times, it was brutal, like being dragged face-first through a minefield of my own mistakes with a spotlight on every single one.
And the medicine itself isn’t shy about handing out warnings; these are not to be abused. If you try to take shortcuts, you’ll get humbled fast.
Being in the military and some of the roles and places I have been have left scars, both physical and the kind you can’t see. Psychedelics didn’t “fix” me. That’s far too clean a word. What they gave me was insight, understanding, and a hard reset. It’s like someone lit a torch in the attic of my mind, showed me the junk I’d been avoiding, and handed me a broom. The cleaning? That was still up to me.
The Five Journeys
Of the five journeys I went on, three ripped straight through my family.
The first was about my daughter. I saw her as a child and as her future self. I felt what it was like to be a young woman navigating today’s chaotic, judgmental world. It broke me and humbled me. It also cracked open conversations with her I never thought I’d be able to have. It felt like falling in love again, obviously non-romantic. The love a dad has for their daughter.
The second was about my son. It had the same theme, but this time from a male perspective. I felt his confusion, struggle to find himself, and the crushing weight of living in my shadow. Worse, I saw how badly he wanted my approval. It was the gut punch I didn’t know I needed. I have been able to sit and talk with him about topics I once thought to be out of reach. I am proud of who he is and love the human he is becoming.
The third was about my wife. I was thrown into her life, her pain, her anxiety, and the messes she had to wade through in her life, including the ones I’d caused. At one point, I became so immersed that I actually thought I was her. No joke. Weeks later, we had moments where it felt like we were reading each other’s minds. Weird, spooky, beautiful. From this, I greatly admired and accepted her as a person, mother, and human being. Similar to my daughter, I fell in love all over again. I now come from a place of curiosity, respect and support in our relationship.
The fourth journey was about me. Six straight hours of torture. No mushrooms-and-rainbows bullshit, this was raw ego death. I was face-to-face with my own pride, fear, and self-loathing. At one point, I wanted to tap out, but I didn’t. By the end, I felt stripped bare. Empty. But also clearer than I’d ever been.
The fifth was different. No mushrooms this time. Something that wasn’t supposed to have a psychedelic response. Instead, it did that, and I got a message, plain and sharp: Enough is enough. I’d been shown what I needed. If I kept chasing, there’d be consequences. So, I listened. Sometimes the bravest thing isn’t going deeper, it’s knowing when to stop.
The Warnings
Now, let’s cut the sugar; psychedelics are not for everyone. They open doors, but if you’re not ready, those doors might take you somewhere you’re not equipped to handle. Mix them with the wrong mental health conditions or medications, and things can get ugly, even dangerous.
So here’s my blunt advice:
- Do your research. Don’t fly to Mexico, Peru, or behind the back sheds because Moon Night, the dude with a man bun, said it “changed his vibration.”
- Know your why. Curiosity is fine, but intention is sharper.
- Respect the medicine. It’s not a party trick. It’s not an escape hatch. And if you treat it like one, you’ll regret it.
Coming Back to Earth
Psychedelic therapy isn’t about escaping reality. It’s about finally facing it. It’s about looking at your scars, laughing at your own cosmic fart dust, crying over the mess you’ve carried, and then dragging yourself back into everyday life with insights that actually stick.
If you’re reading this thinking, “Maybe this could help me,” I’m happy to talk. Not as a guru. Not as some feather-waving shaman. Just as someone who’s been in the trenches, taken the ride, and come back with a few scars and a little more light than I had before.
Because in the end, psychedelic therapy isn’t about floating off into the stars. It’s about coming back down to Earth, grounded, raw, and ready to finally do the work here.
