After the trip, I felt like a different person. I experienced total relief from the stuck feeling, social anxiety, generalized anxiety, and had a feeling of inner worth and peace that went to my core. The difference was immediately noticeable to the others in the group.

As the rest of the retreat went on, and we had opportunities to share our experiences with one another and continue to practice meditation, mindfulness, and other activities to help us remain present. I found that I could sit still without restlessness. I could meditate with a clear head. I could fearlessly make eye contact when I chose to. This is a big one for me – I used to fear that if I allowed someone access to that window into my soul, they would see something ugly or unloveable.

In the information we received ahead of time, we’d been asked to bring something – art or music – that we could share with the group. I had come with the idea of sharing one of the line dances I’d learned at my dance class from home with the group. I hadn’t said anything to the facilitators before the psilocybin trip, but I knew afterwards that I wanted to dance freely, and that sharing the dance with the group would be the perfect opportunity, so I talked to them about finding time to make it happen.

There were basically no clocks; we were just told what was happening next and when to be where. We were always running a little late. And the meditations and other activities kept running long. There never seemed to be time for teaching the dance.

Finally, it was Sunday afternoon. We’d just finished our last sharing circle and were about to go outside for a closing ceremony around our tree. It seemed like the opportunity for us to dance together was rapidly narrowing. Right before we went outside, I asked if there were a few minutes for me to teach my dance. They said yes.

I plugged my phone into the speaker, and demonstrated the dance, then talked the group through it. Then we did it, while I called the steps. When the song ended, the room blew up with cheers and applause. It had been so much fun, and felt like the perfect way to end the retreat. And I had danced with complete freedom. I got to be the center of a group hug, then we headed outside for our final ceremony.

Our group took a taxi together back into Amsterdam. The taxi drivers were the first men we’d encountered during the entirety of the retreat, and it was truly weird to have our space invaded by them.

It had been dark on our way to the retreat, so as we left in the afternoon light, it was our first view of the countryside surrounding where retreat had been held. When we got back to the city, a tunnel closed for construction meant we were dropped off across the waterway from Centraal Station and had to take the free ferry across.

When I talked about this trip, I talked about desiring to travel anonymously, to be on a trip where there wasn’t any singing in public. And you know what we did on that ferry? We sang. One of the group activities we’d done at the retreat was sing together, and once we were on the ferry, we spontaneously burst into one of the songs we’d sung together at the retreat. I had to smile at the irony. An Asian tourist filmed us on his phone. I didn’t care.

We parted ways at the train station. We have a group text we’re all on to stay in touch, and about three weeks after the trip, almost all of us got together for a video call that lasted for nearly two hours.

I left the station and headed straight to Theater Amsterdam, where Hillsong Church has a service at 4 p.m. on Sunday afternoons. It was probably 30 mins. walk from the train station along the water. Unlike the old buildings of the area where I’d stayed on my first night in Amsterdam, this area of Amsterdam was characterized by new builds and modern Dutch architecture.

When I arrived at the church, the service wasn’t to start for another 45 minutes or so. I checked my bags and looked for a place to sit down and have a snack. The only unoccupied seat I could find was at a table full of people speaking to each other in Dutch. I asked if I could sit down, and they assented, then went back to talking to each other. I finished my granola bar, then wandered over to a window in the glass-enclosed space to look out over the water.

A little while later, two of the people whose table I’d shared were standing in front of me. They introduced themselves and the woman said, “I just wanted to talk to you, because I said to myself, there’s something different about her.”

And there was something different about me.

The service was kind of frenzied and loud. I enjoyed the worship; the lyrics about finding freedom had new meaning for me. I struggled to stay awake through the sermon, after sleeping poorly most of my nights in the Netherlands.

I left and walked to my AirBnB. It wasn’t as nice or scenic as the one where I stayed my first night, but it was reasonably quiet and was in a different section of town, giving me the opportunity to see a new area. My room looked out over a canal and was at street level – not great for noise and privacy, but superb for feeling connected to the city. The facilitators at the retreat had invited us to pack up leftover food and take it with us; I’d packed an empty hummus container with kale salad and tofu scramble with some roasted veggies, and heated it up for dinner.

One of the benefits of the place besides the low price was the late check out. I took advantage, leaving my heavy bags behind the next morning and heading out into the city.

I found a row of shops and got myself a flaky breakfast pastry and picked up a few souvenirs. I was often dealt with in Dutch, which thrilled me to no end. When someone said something that went beyond my very limited Duolingo Dutch, I was always sorry to blow my cover by speaking American English.

Around noon, I came back and picked up my bags, then headed for the train station. I took one more look around the area near the station, then got my train ticket and found the next train headed for the airport.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. After a quiet flight, my family met me at the airport in New York and we drove home, with a stop for New York pizza and ice cream along the way.

I got home Monday night. Tuesday was my regular dance class, and found myself aware of being a little self conscious, but much more free than I’d ever been in the past. While I could sense the anxiety wanting to creep in, it didn’t rule me like before.

That Thursday was Thanksgiving. In those early days, it felt like I didn’t have  time to process what had happened. Now that a little more time has passed, things are slowly unfolding for me.

I’ve wanted to share my trip, but it’s been hard. I feel the pressure to present it accurately, the fear of judgement if I try to talk to the wrong person about it. I had a hard time getting back into my real life – whether it was the internal change in me after the trip or the six days of quiet, the adjustment to being home was a difficult one.

Initially, the hardest part of this whole experience was coming home to my kids. They are loud. They have habits that I had allowed to develop – ignoring me, rapid escalation of arguments, a general clamor around the house – that I found difficult to tolerate when I got back.

Already, I’ve seen appreciable change in my relationship with the Chaplain – I am more open to him, and have an inner calm that he can see.

But I’m very tender, and the constant stimulation I receive in my own home wrecked me in the early days. It forced me to practice what I learned at the retreat almost out of desperation – meditating, practicing mindfulness, listening to certain music (including music designed specifically to facilitate meditation and/or relaxation), using grounding techniques (my favorite is taking a deep breath of peppermint essential oil) – regularly during the day. Often, it didn’t feel like enough.

I still believe I’m essentially different. I have an inner peace I didn’t have before. My social anxiety went from full volume to close to mute. I see it rearing its ugly head from time to time, but it’s more of an awareness of the tendency than it is an ugly, wet sweater I’m actually wearing, which is what it felt like before.

I have the ability to meditate, something I could barely force myself to do for 30 seconds before the trip. I have a detachment I didn’t have before, a better understanding of the worth of my spirit, and a sense of where my husk ends and my spirit begins. The Chaplain noted that I don’t squirm anymore when faced with a compliment.

I’m still trying to sort out what all of this means for my life. When I came out of the trip, I knew that I had gotten everything I had hoped for. I also knew it would take some time to unpack, and that is certainly proving to be true.

I guess I could wish for some more immediate results for my parenting. One of the main themes of my trip was a deep desire and readiness to give and receive love, and I was looking forward to coming home to engage with my kids and show them that I loved them in a way I hadn’t been able to do before. Instead, I came home and the noise and busyness made me want to crawl into a closet and hide. I have found myself overwhelmed many times since I came back. It took a long time to recover from the time change and loss of sleep, and I’m still adjusting to the high level of chaos.

The facilitators said we’d still be unpacking this experience for months, which is both a comfort, and a challenge. Even without the psychedelic experience, the trip would have been worth it – it was a tremendous time of healing and connection for me. But the psilocybin unlocked parts of me – and handed me the keys. I feel sure I couldn’t have experienced the change that I did without that piece of the puzzle.

I’ve left so much out of these posts, but it feels like a good snapshot of my experience while (hopefully) not oversharing.

I’ve been a little hesitant to share this. I only told about 5 people the true nature of my trip before I left. I’m still not sure who I want to talk to about it – and I’m a little doubtful that those of you reading this are going to feel comfortable with what you encountered here.

This is big! If you know me IRL, maybe you’ll notice I’m different – more clear-eyed, more relaxed and at peace. While I think much of the biggest change I experienced was internal, I hope it’s noticeable on the outside, too. I hope you’re willing to accept that I arrived at that place with the help of plant medicine.

I don’t know if this is it for me. This trip represented a big sacrifice for my family, and it may not be in the cards for me to do it again any time soon. From my reading, the studies on psilocybin for depression are typically having participants do 2-3 trips over a period of time. I’ve also read about people who feel once every ten years is a great way to press the reset button. Initially, I held onto that second number, feeling like it was a more realistic one for me. Now, after my experience, I don’t really want to wait ten years before doing it again.

For now, I’m trying to cement my meditation practice, be kind to myself, and be present. I’m sorting out how to work the new practices into an intention for my faith walk. I’m hoping that just being able to quiet my heart before God will be all the invitation He needs to continue the work in me.

The offices I read about in Emotionally Healthy Spirituality are now a reality in my life (before, that concept seemed impossible), and I want to make the most of it!

I’m (sort of) patiently squeezing every possible molecule of change and meaning from the experience.

The photo is of the wooded area around the retreat. I took it on one of my morning walks there.