I’m thankful for the acid trip I took about a week ago. My foresight regarding psychedelics comes with the experience of having had previous acid trips. Before swallowing approximately 150 micro grams of LSD I made sure to have ice, cold water, a soft blanket, a cup of tea, a charged speaker and a timed lock box to chuck my phone into. Having cleaned the entire house, I felt like I deserved a treat. Nothing like a freshly vacuumed and scrubbed open plan kitchen and lounge room to trip balls in. My journal and a pen lay on the counter, ready when I was. I was alone apart from the pets and looking forward to the thing I was about to do. I folded the small bits of paper and downed them one at a time with soda water like I was taking pills. “Let’s do this fucking thing” I said out loud, to no one. The old grey dog I live with watched me from the couch and gave a small sigh. Regardless of how well you feed dogs, they always seem to want more food. Each time I moved to the kitchen was a moment of potential hope for them. I wrote down the time I dosed and how much I’d taken.
It had taken a lot of effort to get myself trip ready, whatever that means. I’ve been experiencing anhedonia, more than usual. I wanted to get myself out of it, to feel small in a good way. To feel like an atom in a part of a whole. It’s frustrating to me that I have plenty to be thankful for but cling to the pains I do experience, like they give me more meaning than the joys. And the pains aren’t even that bad by my judgement. I was looking forward to some clarity and to some sober giggling over the silly things I’d write down while not sober. I was seeking out emotional intensity during a period where the switch in my brain that made me feel big feelings was stuck and in need of some psychic WD40. I am trying to train myself to not be afraid of feeling big feelings.
The last time I took LSD I was also alone, in an off grid farm house. Goats wandered around just next to it and the kind owners were good about giving me privacy. I think they were confused that a single person was there to rent their romantic cabin getaway with a hot tub amongst the gamboling goats. I took 50 micro grams and soaked in the hot tub while listening to music. After a long soak in a bubble bath I recall stepping out of the water, seeing myself in the mirror and laughing for a very long time at the bubbles clinging to my arms and hair. I watched Have a Good Trip on Netflix. I ended up ringing my friend and talking to him for a while about things I now can’t remember. I’m convinced that a good chunk of our friendship is held together by the fact that we both love talking on the phone in an age where many seem afraid of off the cuff phone calls (I do feed this fear by being terrified of inconveniencing someone with my terribly offensive interest in speaking to them). I told my friend something very personal during my small trip. Then, months later, I mentioned it in front of him and his wife. She was surprised about [thing] because he hadn’t told her. I was impressed at how tight lipped he was and learned then that she was the same. You were on acid. It seemed wise not to gossip he’d said. The only way to be thought of as a trustworthy person is to be trustworthy.
It was an hour in and I felt nothing. I put on Nina Simone to dance to and did this for about an hour. When I dance at home the dogs always look confused- You are up and moving but not for the purpose of giving us food?. I didn’t remember acid taking this long to hit. I had kept the product for quite a while, stored in an airtight container in a drawer for about 8 months. It had been very warm recently. I was concerned that it had lost its potency. I lay on the couch and put on Everything Everywhere All At Once. I can’t not love this film and have now watched it three times.
By the time Michelle Yeoh cried out You’re not unlovable! to Jamie Lee Curtis I had broken into a full sob. I said out loud “I just love this movie”. I was squirming in delight. I wanted to throw myself at Stephanie Hsus feet and worship her. The LSD had begun to do its thing.
I turned off all the lights but for a small lamp in the corner and lay on the cool tile floor with a cushion under my head and put a blindfold on and turned the music up. This is a great drug for staring directly into your own mind. Nina Simone wailed. My phone was in the lock box. I heard the dogs move around. I had profound insight after profound insight which I tried to write down but only got partially; I struggled to say them out loud too. It was good for me so the nonverbalness of my insights was secondary and didn’t bother me, even as someone who feels the need to write down each thought I have.
I abandoned the blindfold and petted the dogs, feeling an intense and unyielding love for them and each person in my life. I rubbed under Z’s chin, feeling pure joy as she moved her leg involuntarily when I found the sweet spot. How freeing it must be to be a dog like her, to unabashedly look for love and affection at each turn and feel no shame in the search for it. I had the sense of time as an ocean as opposed to a river. I felt the cumulative effect of each significant experience I’ve had on the person I am now and wrote in my journal: I’ve changed. I’m the person I need to be. When I finished the sentence I wept in relief. It was much easier to write because I felt much more expressive but most of it didn’t make much sense (Other things I’d aso written down: Skills: wordless eye contact???). There was the very acid-y feeling of being part of a collective consciousness and I felt deeply grateful for that. I feel that way each time but it always feels new and it was somehow magnified by my being alone. Isn’t that a nice gift?
(I’m thankful for the note I wrote down: It turns out the best drug of all is being steel headed about gratitude. You must be a gratitude warrior!!)
I was experiencing visualisations. Things were turning into patterns that weren’t and it was very amusing to me. I went to the bathroom with the old wallpaper. When I sat on the loo the row of roses were at eye level and melted down the wall. Colours were vivid. The dogs looked better than normal and I was in awe of the numerous marks and shades of my skin. When did I become so colourful and varied?
The sun was setting and I walked to the backyard to watch what I could of it, still wrapped in a blanket. A warm breeze filled the air. The trees made looming shivering silhouettes against the sky and moved in unison, as if dancing to the same song. I couldn’t stop smiling. I stayed out in the backyard for a while, sitting on the grass. The dogs joined me. I sat still for a while and looked into the sky. As a large bat swooped across the sky I gasped in delight. I said to Tx “Did you see that!!”. He did not as pugs seem to struggle to look up at the sky. I was feeling nice big feelings again.