Brittany’s Journey
When I was 16, I felt like I had everything going for me. I got good grades in my honors classes, did well on the dance team, played piano, and almost had my black belt in karate. I was good looking by most standards, had a kind and supportive family and a handful of good friends. Also, when I was 16, I had my first panic attack. I was in bed at home and my palms started to sweat, my heart began to race, I thought I was going to puke; I was convinced I was dying.
This was the culmination of a lot of emotions being repressed over time, which stemmed from “Why do I feel so lonely, so sad, so isolated, when I have all of this good stuff? I’m selfish for feeling this way. There must be something wrong with me.”
After my attack, I started living in fear of this happening again. What if… I lost control in class, or in one of my activities; I embarrass myself and everyone thinks I’m crazy;.. I actually am crazy? I really had no clue why this panic attack had happened to me, but I wanted to understand.
Soon after my first panic attack, in my high school psychology class, I learned about Anxiety Disorder, Panic Attacks, and Depression. I was determined to learn more and figure out my brain and why it felt broken. I could see that other people felt a sense of happiness that felt so out of my reach. How could I get there? What made me different?
The next six years I kept most of this to myself, studying psychology and cognitive science while using the different methods and becoming my own case study. I began trying what all my books and teachers suggested … therapy and medication. I was prescribed anti-depressants and anti-anxiety pills, and when one didn’t work I’d be prescribed another.
I did most of this while self-medicating with copious amounts of booze, which all of the doctors agreed I should not be using with the medication. But alcohol was the only thing that seemed to quiet those incessant, angry and sad voices in my head and allow me to feel carefree. Of course, this was a temporary solution that ultimately left me feeling even more empty.
My sophomore year of college, a group of my guy friends invited me to try magic mushrooms. Eager to try anything mind-altering, I jumped at the chance. That day, with the wisdom from the mushrooms, the forest was absolutely magical; for the first time in a long time, I experienced true joy. Even though anxiety was lurking in the back of my head (I still cared about people thinking I might be crazy), I was able to push that aside and play like a child. For the next couple of years, I used mushrooms and other drugs recreationally, but that lurking anxiety was consistent. And I was taught that mushrooms, along with other illegal (not “prescription”) drugs, were potentially addictive, dangerous, and certainly not a solution to any of my problems. And I believed it.
This changed when I started reading research studies about the magic of psilocybin, the psychedelic compound in magic mushrooms. What these studies showed were almost too good to be true — people were ranking their experiences as life changing and one of their best experiences they’ve ever had. Sure, I had a lot of fun with drugs — but could they help my mind and change my life?
After years of taking prescription drugs that made me feel like a zombie and spending too much time in doctors offices where I didn’t feel like I was making any progress, I was fed up. After reaching a breaking point, I stopped taking the meds cold turkey. Sure, they were masking the symptoms and I wasn’t having as many anxiety attacks, but it was in a way similar to alcohol, where I felt numb. My gut was telling me that there was much more to my existence and that I should be feeling a much wider range of emotions, experiencing more highs and lows.
Once off the meds, I felt more myself — a little more unstable, but less zonked out. I had a renewed determination to “fix” myself, so I devoured self-help books, listened to podcasts, exercised consistently, and attempted to meditate. All that stuff helped immensely, but I still felt that cloud of depression lurking above me, that threat of a panic attack hovering way too close. So when my boyfriend at the time suggested that we go on an ayahuasca retreat, I was curious.
I was very scared at first. I didn’t think I could handle it. But when I met the leader of the Dreamglade retreat center in Peru, something shifted; this was the right move. I was absolutely terrified, but the plant medicine changed my life. After three ceremonies and lots of time spent in stillness and self-reflection, something (or probably many things) shifted. Repressed energies were released; emotional blocks lifted. My intense fears of not being liked and of death were realized in a new way. My world was cracked open and I could see so much more than I could before. All those things I dubbed as “hippy” or “woo-woo” before (Love is all around! Love is all you need! etc.) now resonated as the truth. I felt awakened, empowered, and ready to live.
“Cured” feels too extreme to describe my state today, but it’s certainly close. I still have bouts of anxiety, although they are nowhere near as frequent. Along with many others who have used plant medicine, I know it could change our world for the better, and I’m compelled to share my experiences with others. After trying so many ‘doctor-approved” methods that failed miserably and only addressed the symptoms, my elixirs are natural and from the earth, and they just feel right in my bones. I realize psychedelics and plant medicines might not work for everyone, but I know they could be helping a lot more people to reduce fear and anxiety, raise their consciousness, and brighten their existence.
