The Banta Blog

“In the past week, how often have you felt like you wanted to kill yourself? Has it been Not at All, Fleeting or only a Couple of Minutes, 1 to 4 hours, Most of the Day, or All of the Time?”

“In the past week, what reasons did you have for wanting to kill yourself? Was it completely to end or stop the pain, mostly to end or stop the pain, equally to end or stop the pain and for attention from others, mostly for attention from others, or completely for attention from others?”

“In the past week, were there deterrents that stopped you from killing yourself? Would you say deterrents definitely stopped you from killing yourself, deterrents most likely stopped you from killing yourself, deterrents partially stopped you from killing yourself, deterrents did little to stop you from killing yourself, or deterrents didn’t stop you from killing yourself?”

Answering impersonal, rigid questions like these is how most visits start. If they aren’t the first thing, they come right after unhooking all the wires from the EKG machine or right after turning in my urine sample and taking out the blood draw needle. That’s the nature of being essentially a lab rat for a clinical trial. You’re a study subject before a patient. And I get it, and, honestly, I’m “happy” to be studied, if it’ll help lead to learning more about how to treat people like me.

Why Am I doing This?

I’ve spent the past month or two in the early stages of being accepted and prepared for a psilocybin-assisted therapy trial for major depression. Tomorrow is finally my “dosing day.” It’s been a bit of a weird experience, really, but one I’m excited for (and also pretty scared for). I’ve felt drawn to trying to get into a trial like this for a few years now and I even applied for and tried to get into a different trial a few years ago, but didn’t meet the criteria. Psychedelic therapy trials have interested me for a while. I’ve struggled to get lasting results from a lot of traditional therapy methods, and didn’t get much relief from traditional medication either. And I’ve followed the research over those years and seen many of the amazing stories some participants/patients have had. So I’ve had it in my mind as something I’d wanted to try if I couldn’t get anything else to work.

So a few months ago when I was really struggling, I started looking into trials again and reached out to one that it looked like I would qualify for (and just so happened to be only a half an hour away). After doing some initial screening, I felt optimistic I’d get in, but as the days passed after the screening, I started to worry. I started praying that I’d get in if it was something I was meant to do. And finally, after a few weeks, I got a call back about being accepted. After that, things started to move really fast. 

Now here I am, just a few hours away from receiving my treatment in the morning. I wanted to write something to document how I’m feeling about everything beforehand, both for myself to be able to come back to and also to demystify the process of going through a trial like this (without the bias of how the actual treatment goes). I wanted to get down on paper my intentions going in, my emotional state beforehand, and my fears and experiences of the trial so far.

It’s been no secret lately that I’ve struggled for almost all of my life with being depressed and dealt with suicidal thinking. It’s been an intractable problem, and I’ve spent years of effort with different treatment methods working to try and manage it. Some of the time, that effort and those treatments do provide some small, shorter lived relief. But the problem always comes back with a vengeance, and it spirals fast once it starts. And I think a lot of that is because I’m constantly running away and avoiding truly confronting the darker recesses of my mind. When I do confront those thoughts, they hold the power. They take control. And I get stuck in the loop of despair. The loop where I feel suicidal and depressed, which leads to me feeling broken and “unfixable,” which leads to me feeling depressed and suicidal, and jumping off that loop feels impossible. I guess I’m hoping psilocybin helps me confront those dark demons (or moreso, gives me no choice or control in running away, forcing me to go “in and through”).

My Fears

But I still have a lot of fear over what the treatment experience will be like in the trial. There’s fear of what might come up that I’ve avoided in my mind. There’s fear of giving up control. There’s fear of not being ready. There’s fear of it not working and being back at square one. And, oddly enough, I think I have a lot of fear of feeling good. It’s not a feeling I’ve known and or been used to in life. I think part of me fears that if I ever let myself feel good, that’s when the other shoe will drop and I’ll be faced with something else I can’t handle. It’s not a rational fear, at least not when I consider how much I’ve put into my desire to feel good. And I think I’ve let this fear sabotage myself so often to prevent me from feeling “good.” 

It’s another vicious cycle: I know that in order to grow emotionally, I need to face my fears, but what about when one of those fears is the fear of growth? It’s a fear that I’ve compensated for by striving for achievement and growth in other areas of life, and have been able to find some success at, but I’ve used it as reason to ignore growing in this important area. And I don’t really know why I’ve been unable to accept emotional growth or confront this fear. I used to think some of it was because I actively wanted to have that chip on my shoulder, that edge, because I thought it was what made me work hard and achieve. But now, I don’t think that’s really the case at all, because this fear keeps me stuck, and when I’m stuck I lose motivation. And it’s not really an edge that has proved useful, because despite achieving a lot, it’s still left me empty, and what’s the point in that?

I believe that if I can face these fears and maybe uncover a little why they are so pervasive and persistent, and that even if I can’t get rid of them, I’ll be able to take away some of their power. I think psilocybin will help me face those fears, and probably force me to confront a lot of things that I’ve been unable to on my own (or at least too able to run away from or distract myself from). And I’m ready to stop running and stop pushing this problem further down the road. So here I am, the lab rat.

Lab rat Life

For what it’s worth, I don’t really mind being a test subject for this trial, and I in fact feel really grateful for the opportunity. It’s been difficult to have to open up in such a short time to a number of the study team about my struggles and my past, and it’s been exhausting to answer so many questions about suicide and death and depression. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not made any easier when a lot of those questions are of the impersonal nature that I started with. But I’m glad that I might finally get some relief, and blessed that I have been accepted to a trial that only has around 120 participants in this phase. So maybe I’m a lab rat with a hidden smile, waiting for the lab to reveal that smile. At least I’m a lab rat that’s choosing to go to the lab every week.

So what’s it like to be a psychedelic test subject? Aside from having to answer a bunch of canned study questions to get measurable data to test, it’s actually been a good experience. I’ve been provided an app with a lot of information on the study and some resources and content to help prepare. And I’ve had 3 preparation sessions with my study therapist, which have been super helpful in feeling comfortable (I said things went fast once we got started, this has all been over the past 2-3 weeks).

In these preparation sessions, we’ve gone over not just the traditional therapist-patient relationship building, but also more details about the treatment, what might happen, and what different tools or techniques I can take into the treatment day to manage whatever comes (one of the things that’s really been emphasized is that we really don’t know what will come up or how the psilocybin will affect me, or if I’ll even get a non-control dose since it’s a double blind study). We worked on some different breathing and meditation techniques. We worked on noticing physical feelings and emotional thoughts and feelings. We worked on different grounding techniques. One of the most important things we’ve worked on has been setting an intention for the “trip.” My intention is to go in looking for why I fear feeling joy so much, and to hopefully be able to be present afterwards. I’ve always struggled with enjoying things that I know I should, because I’m so wrapped up in my head that I’m not actually mentally present enough to enjoy them. I also have the intention of learning to sit with my dark, negative thoughts but to do so without giving them the power to throw me into that loop.

But even with those intentions, I’m also trying to go in knowing that this might not work and even if it does, my work won’t be done and this won’t be a panacea that lasts forever. Maybe part of this is protecting myself from disappointment if it doesn’t end up being everything I’m hoping for. But I also think it’s a healthier way to go in to it, because even if it does work, I want to be realistic that much of what I might learn during the treatment, I will have to go put into action afterwards.

The one thing I have really been keeping in mind is that this treatment is not the end of my healing and growing journey, it’s just another beginning. If it doesn’t work, I’m not out of options (despite how I can sometimes make it out like this is a last resort). One thing that I think is really hard for many people that are depressed and suicidal is being able to see how resilient they really are. I know I don’t see it most of the time. But I am (and you are), as long as I’m still here, breathing, and looking to get better. So I want to lean on this resiliency. I’m accepting that this isn’t an illness where you take a pill and instantly feel better, it’s a process that requires practice, much of which I’ve already been doing, but this might be the kickstart that I need to get over the tallest mountain in my path. And I think this will set me up to gain some useful and important insight from this trial regardless of how the treatment goes. After all, my study therapist has really tried to make that point: that it’s not entirely about the medicine, it’s also about being open and trusting myself and letting go. The medicine may make some of that easier (or harder), but growth doesn’t have to be tied to having a successful trip, and maybe I’ll even be set back, but there’s something to learn there too.

Embrace Our Journey

So as I prepare to step into the unknown tomorrow, I am filled with a mix of fear and hope. The impersonal nature of this clinical trial has made me feel like a lab rat, yet I am also grateful for this opportunity to potentially find some relief from my long-standing depression and suicidal thinking.

The journey so far has been intense, filled with rigid questions, invasive procedures, and the challenging task of opening up to strangers quickly. But it has also been a journey of introspection, forcing me to confront some of the darkest corners of my mind and be open to facing fears I have long avoided. My preparation sessions have given me tools and intentions to carry into the treatment, and I am ready to embrace whatever comes next (this is what I have had to repeat to myself to help calm some of my fears).

I know this trial is not a cure-all. It’s a step in my ongoing journey of healing and growth. I am prepared to accept that the path forward may still be difficult, and that true change requires continuous effort. Whether or not this treatment brings immediate relief, I am determined to keep fighting, to keep growing, and to keep facing my fears head-on.

So, to anyone who struggles with their own mental health, maybe confronting your fears could open up a new world to you. And maybe that opening will be helped by psilocybin therapy (if you’re lucky enough and able to get into a trial, as that’s the only legal way currently), but maybe it also doesn’t require anything outside of yourself. Maybe you already have the power to open up and overcome. The path to growth is often paved with discomfort and uncertainty, but it is through facing these challenges that we find our strength (or better, it’s how we build our strength). This clinical trial is just one step in my ongoing journey, one of many, and reflects the courage we all need to seek help and the resilience we need to continue fighting, always.

We are all more resilient than we realize. As long as we keep breathing, keep seeking, and keep pushing forward, there is hope. This is not the end of my story, but a new beginning. And I am ready to embrace it, lab rat or not.