My story has the right to be written.

I was invited to share my story in the days after the retreat, but thought of all the other, more ‘worthy’ stories from my group. In comparison, mine was insignificant. I felt ashamed for thinking someone might find it beneficial. But my story wanted to be told.

As I tried to fall asleep that night, a stream of English words started coming to me (not my mother tongue). I tried to resist it – nobody cares about my experience, I reminded myself. But I got the clear message: "You care about your experience. Write it for yourself. You have a right to be here. You have a right to live. Your story has the right to be written.”

‍I dutifully wrote my story, but then tucked it away in private. Life went on. I almost forgot about it, and if I hadn’t connected with the people at the After Circle – in very unlikely circumstances – I may never have shared it. But on reflection, I think it’s better that I waited. Telling my story 5 years on, it’s more complete now. It’s not just about my experience with the sacred medicine, San Pedro, it’s about my deeper integration process, and my gradual evolution into the person I am today.

This is my story.

I’ve been through a lot of trauma in my life. Ever since I was a small child, I suffered various forms of physical, emotional and sexual abuse – all within my close family. My wider family also had struggles with schizophrenia, major depression and suicide. Looking back, it wasn't surprising that I struggled mentally and emotionally as an adult. I found myself in an abusive marriage, with a husband who was an addict, and we had a very toxic relationship that ultimately ended in divorce.

While we were together, I developed clinical depression, and regularly struggled with terrifying nightmares. Even the birth of my first child, what should be a joyous event, plunged me into new depths of darkness and confusion. I felt tormented by guilt, shame and self-pity, but I couldn’t understand it. From the outside, my life was great – I’d built an enviable career in the world of TV. I was successful. I was respected. But inside, I felt like I was going crazy.

Over the years, I witnessed myself spiralling into a darker and darker place, but I felt powerless to do anything to stop it. An answer came from the most unlikeliest of people – my husband. He’d never been to a plant medicine ceremony himself but he’d knew about their healing potential. I was sceptical (hearing about it through him gave me plenty of reason to mistrust it) but I felt a flicker of hope rise up inside me.
I did my own research online and, despite my doubts, I felt a strong calling to the medicine. The biggest fear in my mind was that a ceremony might tip me over the edge and make me actually ‘insane’. This was a very real, very terrifying possibility. A lifetime of trauma had made me completely intolerant to uncertainty – and yet that was exactly what I’d be inviting into my life by going through with the ceremony.

I danced back and forth with the decision whether or not to go. Finally, I confirmed my place in a San Pedro ceremony, but a few months later, I cancelled. I couldn’t go through with it. Then, the evening before the ceremony was due to take place, it suddenly hit me: I already felt ‘insane’. What did I have to lose? I reached out to the retreat and asked if, by any chance, it was possible to still attend. Miraculously, they’d had a last-minute cancellation, and an empty spot had just opened up.

It was a beautiful coincidence (or maybe not). It reassured me that this was the right decision. I was meant to be there. Yet, even with the comfort of serendipitous timing, my doubts still festered. In the final hours before the ceremony, I began to feel overwhelmed with fear and panic – to the point where I developed a migraine. I have a history of migraines and without medication, I'm bedridden for days. Did I say anything to the organisers? No. I just took the sacred medicine.
It was an extremely difficult experience, from start to finish. I felt so ill throughout the ceremony that when the time came for the second cup, I couldn't even open my eyes. Later, when I did, I saw everyone around me dancing, drumming and singing joyfully. It made me feel even worse. Now I’d ‘failed’ at ceremony. The next morning, I’d never felt lower. My head hurt, my stomach ached, but worst of all, I felt consumed by worthlessness.

Back in the main room, everyone else was laughing, smiling and eating together. But I was an alien. I hated myself. I was so overwhelmed with feelings of not belonging; of being flawed and broken; I couldn't stand even being among them. I went back to sleep in my bed, hoping that when I woke up I'd feel differently – I didn’t. It came time to share and I was among the first people who had to speak. I felt so ashamed. What could I say?

These amazing, ‘truly spiritual’ people had opened their chakras, seen past lives, and had beautiful visions while I'd just slept through it miserably with my head hurting. I felt like utter garbage next to them. Of course, I didn't share my true experience. I quickly made something up and then retreated back into myself as the sharing continued. My migraine raged on.

I remember lying hopelessly on my mat, staring at the ceiling, when a man began sharing his struggles with an emotionally distant, neglectful mother. In that moment, I felt a jolt of recognition. I saw myself in this man's struggle. The facilitator began to lead him through a healing and release process, and without thinking, I silently followed along, in my mind.

Everything the facilitator asked the man to do, I did, my inner voice shaming me the entire way with thoughts like, "What are you doing?! It’s this man’s healing session, not yours! You’ve no right to do this. Other people think you're a disgrace. Look at yourself; you’re pathetic!” Despite my brutal inner narrative, I stuck with it – not really understanding why. The healing process concluded and soon after, the sharing circle finished.

I found a lift home as fast as I could, took a migraine pill and went straight to bed. I slept for two days. When I woke up, my migraine was finally gone. Only now did my healing process really begin. First, I vomited my relationship with my husband (even though my stomach had long been empty and the sacred medicine was out of my system), then a series of startlingly clear insights started coming into my awareness. I practised feeling and releasing them, just as I’d done in the guided healing.

This went on for hours until, slowly, I started to feel better. It was only then that a deep, inner truth revealed itself to me: I hated myself. I’d been completely unaware of this feeling before ceremony. I hid the truth from myself with my constant need to achieve, but now I saw the intensity of my self-loathing. Deep-down, I felt like a mistake. I didn’t feel like I had the right to be here. I was flawed. These feelings had been a hidden, driving force for most of my life.

I understood my feelings of inadequacy in ceremony had nothing to do with the other people there, and everything to do with how I felt about myself. I saw myself as totally insignificant, ashamed to exist, and – as awful as it sounds – realising this for the first time was unbelievably freeing. Now I could begin releasing it. For the next few days, I focused on healing and releasing all of these toxic beliefs.

I began to feel a calmness and serenity I’d never experienced before. I had more space to choose my responses, instead of just reacting. Before, I’d always felt like I was at the mercy of my thoughts and feelings, and it was helplessly witnessing these patterns that made me feel ‘insane’. But finally, things were shifting. It was like I was being deprogrammed and coming home to myself.

This process lasted a whole week after ceremony, but looking back, it was only the beginning of my healing journey. It took five years of careful integration practice to finally arrive in a place of genuine self-love and compassion. (And what an amazing feeling that is.) Today, it’s not like I'm a completely different person, but I'm much more self-aware, and more connected to myself and those around me.

The deadly chains of painful thinking have loosened and my life has changed dramatically. I’ve given up my career in TV. I’m divorced and now in a healthy relationship, with a loving husband and two more beautiful children. We left the city life behind and are now living in a rural area, surrounded by nature. I’ve started therapeutic writing for myself as a regular, personal healing practice, and I also work with others to help them access their painful inner beliefs.

It makes me truly ecstatic to be able to do this kind of work. My lifestyle and worldview has changed completely (in a healthy way) but, like everyone, I still have struggles. This is being human. The main thing I can say about my ‘new’ life is that I feel like I experience a fuller kind of reality these days. Like all of my senses are heightened and my sense of time and space has expanded, as has my capacity to be present.

Life can in turn be magical, overwhelming, hard, and deeply rewarding. And that’s OK. I’m now happy living life in all the fullness it presents. After so many years of constant self-hate, I’m so grateful to be able to feel genuine love and compassion for myself. (Emotions I would never have thought possible in my darkest times, and these tender feelings only sprouted recently.

Writing about my experience has been an essential part of my integration process. Now that I’m finally sharing it with others, I hope my story will be of some benefit to others on their own healing journeys.

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