The night before my psilocybin trip I was anxious. I thought about my daughter having to deal with my Australian Shepherds for 8 hours, my responsibilities at work, the playlist I’d made for the journey, and the fact that I might not sleep that night. The dreaded words of my integration therapist the day before were planted in my mind, “how will you feel for 6 hours when it’s just all about you?”
I popped a melatonin and practiced deep breathing as I drifted off to sleep. The next morning I put my hair in a bun, dressed in stretchy cords and an oversized cardigan, fed the dogs, gathered all my supplies, and headed to the service center. I put a kettle on and waited for my facilitator.