Psilocybin Trial Diary - Day three: Dosing day one (10mg)

Arriving in White City

I wake up at 6.30am, reluctant as ever to get up. I feel nervous and anxious about what the day holds but I also feel excited. In contrast to the last rainsoaked assessment day, the sun is out, the sky is blue and the trees are a lush inviting green. On my way to the unit, I realise why I was able to withstand being trapped in the scanner - years of practice on rush hour London tubes! I find my two inches of standing space and stare at the floor (so as not to have any forced romantic liaisons with my fellow commuters). The train empties out at Oxford Circus and I get a seat. I spend the rest of the journey to White City writing parts of this blog.

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I wait in the reception area having been signed in and then Robin comes and takes me to a patient/participant lounge. He breathalyses me (I'm not allowed to have had alcohol within the previous 24 hours), I provide the required urine sample and then fill in a couple of questionnaires, as is now customary. We then walk to the 'chill out room' - the ward room decked out with colourful sheets, plants and flowers, a scent vaporiser, as well as Mark and James.

We talk through things, my feelings and fears, and then at around 10.30am, I take two psilocybin capsules (equivalent to 10mg). We carry on chatting, over time my perception of colours alters slightly, things feel lighter, time ceases to exist but I still feel fairly similar to normal - it's just there's a slight glow to everything and the music sounds deeper and more open. Within around 45 minutes I can feel the affects more strongly. I carry on chatting to James and Mark - I feel quite analytical - before James suggests I put the headphones and eyemask on and immerse myself within the experience.

The fantastically well-selected ambient playlist fuels my visions, visions that I can see with my eyes closed or with my eyes open behind the foam-edged blindfold I'm wearing. I see kaleidoscopic patterns emerging from the darkness. Just outlines initially but becoming fuller and more colourful as the drug takes more of an effect. Images appear, then streak their patterns around me, infinitely repeated patterns that remind me of the fractal images that first fascinated me as a teenager. Every now and then a bright light surges above me - through me - and takes my breath away. Amongst the patterns are images of a million smirking Stan Laurels, the face of a toy Fisher Price phone on wheels - both of which make me smile.

There are also more-distinct scenes - me flying over various scenes, watching the aurora borealis flicker over mountain ranges. Then there are the images of, or representations of people. I see my love for my wife, visualising us as two curved lasers that fuse together and travel as one. I see my sister and feel love, empathy and sadness for her and what she's experienced in life. I see Mum briefly and try to understand her and her actions but still can’t so consciously move my thoughts on.

I see my friends as well and think, or know rather, that I must be a good person to have such good friends. It isn't arrogance or egoism but just a deep knowing. And I feel blessed to have such dear, close and genuine friends.

During all of this, the music really opens up, I can hear every note suspended in space as if it is a solid, tangible object. Every element of the music has its very own distinct space around me. The detail is astounding - as if I've zoomed in on it aurally by a million times - and I can hear every key of the piano pressed before it sounds and keys lifted as the note ends, I can hear the breath of the musicians playing wind instruments, I can hear people moving around the room during another track and mumbling just out of earshot. In hindsight I'm not sure if this was within the music or within the room around me, there was no distinction. I go on my first trip to the toilet and comment to Mark just how perfect the playlist is.

It certainly isn't all plain sailing though. My anxiety manifests itself as the experience intensifies. I find myself paranoid that I am going to lose control of my bladder and wet myself in front of the others. I also worry that I can’t roll over on the bed, in case I’m not allowed to, in case I turn my back on someone and they think I am being rude. I don’t mention these things until later on when the effects are wearing off.

The experience is like a very intense version of my normal thought processes - what if I do the wrong thing? What if I upset someone? What if I look stupid and humiliate myself? Can I trust everyone? That's when I feel 'locked in' and alone. I have support all around me but cannot, I believe, ask for it. They are going to judge me so all I can do is lie still on the bed, feeling increasingly uncomfortable, and flex my pissing muscle constantly to check I’m not going to wet myself by accident.

Do I ride through the negativity? Do I take evasive action by trying to calm myself? Don't Fight It, Feel It as Primal Scream once said. I’m not quite sure what the 'right' way to go is. During this darker period the music also takes on more dark and sinister qualities. The visuals become less colourful and more threatening. Can I see the devil? Is it my inner demons? I wonder to myself if they have put some dark elements into the music on purpose to draw dark feelings and thoughts out of me. Certain notes and instruments or melodies seem scary and dark.

I don’t request a comforting hand in the form of the non-romantic handhold we'd discussed previously. I am on my own and have to get through this on my own as thoughts of 'will I ever be normal again' come into my head to haunt me. Again, this is an intensified version of my normal thought processes - I have to be strong, I have to get through this on my own, I can't ask for help, I can't burden others with my fears, insecurities or problems.

Thankfully, this passes. I do roll over slightly, even though my bladder paranoia continues.

I'm not sure when I had lunch, perhaps after the dark period, and ate some blueberries. They were genuinely amazing. The texture in my mouth, the taste, the way they gently squished and released their juice. It was like being hyper-present. I also ate a banana and an apple, very slowly. All I wanted to eat was fruit, it felt pure and refreshing. During lunch I also saw a face in one of the throws on the table. It was just there, not threatening or welcoming.

Romantic meal for two

Gradually I begin to come down. Having reached a 3.5 self-rating of intensity earlier on, this gradually subsides to a 2 and then a 1. These ratings (on a scale of one to four) and a blood pressure test are taken around once every 30 minutes by Mark. As I start to return to normality and people's faces start to normalise too I chat to James more about my sister and the rest of my family. I go back under the eyemask for a while afterwards and cry as I feel compassion and love for my sister and all that she's been through.

Once I am rating a 1, Robin gives me a couple more questionnaires to do - this time about the experience. Some of my answers seem contradictory - the experience is both stunningly beautiful and anxiety-inducingly scary. I then go and sit in the participant lounge feeling pleasantly blank as I wait for my wife to turn up to the weirdest date night ever - I eat roast chicken and she eats fish and chips.

We then go outside to wait for the taxi that Mark has booked. I feel strange with an underlying fear of whether I appear normal to others but this doesn’t cripple me or modify my behaviour. It takes a long time to get home, due to the traffic, but I am happy to sit and be once we get there (although I do tidy up some garden stuff without really worrying about it).