Notes after Ketamine: Aurora is the effort / Of the Celestial Face*

 

Background

My first ketamine infusion was on Monday. I go for my second infusion tomorrow. Within the space of three weeks, I'll have a total of six infusions. When this course of treatment is over I'll schedule monthly booster treatments. I don't need to get those if I am doing well. If I hit a rough patch, I'll know I have an already scheduled appointment to tether me to hope. 

There are gobs of scientific, peer-reviewed research on the benefits of ketamine infusions for those with mental illness or chronic pain. The purpose of this post is not to discuss the scientific research; I want to write about the experience and explore how this treatment is healing the physiology of my mind, fortifying my emotional well-being and expanding the reach of my spirit.  

Despite my research, I was unprepared for this experience. I knew it wouldn't lead to hallucinations or feeling like I was on acid, but I didn't quite know what to expect. I expected some crazy visuals and maybe some silliness like coming out of anesthesia. My experience was radically different: it was peaceful, meaningful, and processed feelings that I have repressed for decades. 

The experience 

I was led to a quiet and comfortable room and was allowed to bring David with me. There was a comfortable recliner and low lighting. The goal was to be comfortable and have minimal stimulation so I could sink into my own brain space. 

The most difficult part of the appointment was finding a vein that would cooperate with the IV. It took almost an hour of inspecting my veins and trying before they got the IV in. The techs were very kind and patient. I have really awful veins that seem to give all medical professionals a difficult time.

Finally the IV started. I was given an eye mask and some headphones that play binaural beats. A few minutes after the IV fluids began I felt a flush all over my body. My body became numb, but not in an uncomfortable way. My brain went quiet. I constantly have persistent static in my brain. The thrum of all the things to do, all the things that could happen, and all the things that did happen. I can never shut if off. With the ketamine, that cacophony muted and I was at peace and alone in my own mind. 

My brain was dark and peaceful like a deep undisturbed pool. Rippling above the pool were flickers of colorful light. Violet purples and glimmers of green skating around and above my mind's dark pool.  It was a powerful and gentle light like the spectacle of an aurora borealis. Slow moving whisps of color in the darkness. It was beautiful. At this point I felt my face grow wet. There were tears running unencumbered down my face. I was not wracked with sobs. My feelings were deep and plentiful; tears cascaded out of a hidden, holding well inside me. 

I spoke at times during the infusions. According to David, I consistently said two things: I love my children and I want to write a poem. I wished I could write poems and I loved my kids so much my heart pulsed and ached from this magnitude of love. 

I thought of my kids and how much I wanted to hug them. At some point, this changed to thinking of my inner child. I wanted to wrap my arms around little Amanda and assure her she was loved, safe. My heart whispered, "I will protect you and nurture you, inner child, in the same way I protect and nurture my children." 

The lights and the music lifted my spirit with hopefulness and released grief. I was unaware of the grief I held and how companionable it was with love. This grief did not rattle me with fear. Instead, I noticed and let go. I see you inner child. I see your earnest desire for love and the shame you feel. I release you from this shame and affirm that I love you. I love you I love you I love you. In that moment, I resolved to stay, live, and heal. 

At some point, the IV was removed and I floated back into my body and conscious mind. I opened my eyes one at a time and glanced around the room. There was a bottle of water on my lap. David helped me up. After a check-in from the technician, I stepped out of the room, passed the threshold of the clinic and felt like a newly born fawn spilling into the light.

Healing

I'm increasingly aware of the connection between managing my mental health and spiritual healing. I can best describe ketamine treatments as shadow work and soul flight (astral projection). Our shadow self are parts of our self that the consciousness cannot see. We split our shadow off because it is often born out of shame and rejection we've felt in life. It is a survival mechanism. To live fully and integrated, shadow work is important. Shadow work involves mindfully observing triggers, patterns, and projections. There is no shame, anger, or fear in acknowledging aspects of our shadow self. It is much more complex than this description. I've been in therapy for years and it is absolutely grounded in shadow work. However, I've only begun to view therapy from a spiritual lens within the past year or two. 

Soul flight is something that I have rarely achieved in my life and usually only in lucid dreaming states. Soul flight is visiting an unexplored corner of my mind. This plane of existence melts away and an out of body experience is produced. As one with PTSD, let me make clear that dissociation and flashbacks in the throes of PTSD is NOT a soul flight experience. When I have PTSD symptoms, I am afraid, I am watching and feeling horrific things from the past happen to me. I have no power. In soul flight, I am outside of my body but deep within my mind. I have the power to notice and dismiss. It is a reclamation of power. 

My inner child

Right now my task is to work with my inner child. It embodies my childhood self. More importantly, my inner child is created by all the times in my life where I have felt vulnerable, disempowered, scared, and shamed. It is a raw wound that I have protectively coiled myself around. I have wound round the wound and I am working on unspooling and gently, gently, cradling that inner child. 

I'm going to be okay and I'm going to stay in this life. I have been haunted by the fear that one day I will reach a point where the pain is unbearable, I lose perspective and I leave those I love. 

I have such a clear sense of resolve. I'm staying. I'm reclaiming my power. 

*Aurora is the effort

Of the Celestial Face

Unconsciousness of Perfectness

To simulate, to Us.

- Emily Dickinson