My Ketamine Therapy Journey (And Why Dragons Don't Always Fix Misophonia)

Sometimes the most profound healing happens when you're literally riding dragons with your childhood best friend.

Picture this: I'm wearing earplugs with noise-canceling headphones stacked on top like some sort of deranged audio sandwich, haven't slept in 72+ hours, and I'm genuinely wondering if my next address is going to be a padded room. COVID had taken my misophonia and panic attacks from "manageable life challenge" to "please someone put me out of my misery."

My dad had to fly overseas to literally save my life and drag me back to the States. At this point, I was basically a walking advertisement for why you shouldn't catch COVID when you already have mental health issues. Spoiler alert: it's not fun.

That's when my sister, bless her heart, connected me with two friends who'd tried ketamine therapy. Both had gone from being on more medications than a pharmacy to getting one ketamine injection every three months. They were going on and on about how it had "completely changed their lives" with the enthusiasm of people who'd found the holy grail of mental health treatments.

So naturally, I thought, "Well, I've tried everything else short of moving to a monastery, why not add 'legal drug trips' to my resume?"

The clinic looked like a regular doctor's office had a baby with a high-end spa. The patient rooms had big comfy recliners, blankets, plants, and mood lighting—basically everything you'd want if you were about to leave reality for a few hours. The staff had the most incredible bedside manner I'd ever experienced, which was refreshing after years of practitioners who acted like telling you "everything will be okay" would somehow violate their medical license. Every time I started crying during a session, someone would enter the room and check on me in a way that I can only describe as perfectly wholesome. It made me feel so safe and cared for. Which is extremely important when you’re on another planet in another dimension.

They started me with a dose so small I barely felt anything—basically making sure I wasn't going to have an allergic reaction and ruin everyone's day. Then they gradually ramped me up over six sessions like some sort of consciousness elevator. I cried every single time, though to be fair, I was crying at commercials back then, so that wasn't exactly breaking news.

By the fifth and sixth sessions, I was completely yeeting myself out of reality for over two hours. The best way I can describe it? Imagine the bookshelf scene from Interstellar had a baby with the dream-bending scene from Inception, except instead of being terrifying, it's like the universe is giving you the world's most expensive hug.

Here's where it gets absolutely bonkers: During my fifth trip, I was riding dragons with my childhood best friend—someone I hadn't talked to in probably 15 years. We were just living our best dragon-riding lives in whatever dimension ketamine had transported me to. When I came back to Earth and checked my phone, there was a text from him: "Yo dude, was just thinking of you, how are you?"

I mean, what are the odds? Either the universe has a sense of humor, or ketamine comes with some sort of telepathic side effects they don't mention in the brochure.

Here's the plot twist: Ketamine didn't cure my misophonia or panic attacks, but it did give me that sense of oneness, a new outlook on life.

The treatment didn't work the way I'd hoped. I still wanted to throw things when people chewed loudly, and my nervous system was still acting like a smoke detector with a dying battery. But what I gained was this profound sense that everything really is connected—and not in a "I've been reading too many self-help books" way, but in a "holy crap, we're all just energy having a human experience" way.

Sometimes the "failed" treatments teach us the most important lessons. Ketamine showed me that my brain wasn't broken (shocking, I know), it was just overwhelmed and trying to protect me from a world that felt too loud, too much, too everything.

PLEASE NOTE: Just because it didn’t work for me, does not mean it won’t work for you. We’re all different and my root cause is different from your root cause. I will always encourage you to keep trying new things until you find something that actually works.

If you're considering ketamine therapy:

• Find a clinic where the staff doesn't treat you like a walking diagnosis, dig through the reviews to make sure the bedside manner is top tier

• Prepare for profound experiences that might not "fix" your symptoms but could rearrange your entire worldview

• Remember that sometimes the best medicine is realizing you're not as alone as you think

Have you ever had a treatment "fail" but teach you exactly what you needed to learn? Sometimes the detours are more valuable than the destination.

You're not broken if treatments don't work the way the brochures promise. Sometimes the real healing happens in the most unexpected places—like on the back of a dragon with your kindergarten best friend.

— Chris

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P.S. As always, feel free to email me or comment below with any questions. Cheers!