In an effort to treat my anxiety and depression, I read some research on psilocybin trips and the most effective techniques for this application. What I learned is that working on your art while tripping could have therapeutic effects. I also know that with being on a natural hormonal cycle and not synthetic, my lowest days are right at the beginning of PMS. It brings back thoughts of wanting to hit that self-destruct button, my brain demons push through the barriers I’ve created. Not a good place to be in. I get angry, emotional, and irrational. So, I thought tripping at the beginning of this would help curb that negative tide of feelings and replace them with more positive ones. Plus, since I’m working almost every weekend until the end of the summer, this was really the only chance I’d have for a while. It happened to coincide with my Un-Birthday celebration, wherein I throw my usual birthday shenanigans two weeks early because I miraculously was accepted into two Festivals on back-to-back weekends before and on my birthday.
My Life Does Not Suck…
The plan was originally going to be tripping on Saturday at some point. During the day we headed to Cuiver River State Park for lake swimming, hiking, picnicking, and kayaking (only it turns out the kayaks were all already rented long before we arrived in the mid-afternoon.) James and I were accompanied by our lovely friend Apple, and we had a wonderful day of adventure relaxing in the water, eating delicious food, goth sunbathing in the shade, and wandering down a dry creek bed finding all kinds of interesting rocks and plants that are usually underwater. Afterwards, we quickly headed to see the Nerds of Prey at the Monocle in their early show, where I had no idea I was actually being celebrated for my early-birthday. I was sung a little song along with the bride-to-be, and we were both invited up on stage for a some hot-burlesque-lap-dance action. I could not wipe the shit-eating grin off my face as I was surprised to find Abi Sith and Rose Whip would be tag teaming the bachelorette and I. Here I was already red from laughing hysterically at the acts in the first half of the show, giggling like an idiot repeating the phrase “my life does not suck.”
We hung around the bar for a bit longer than planned after the event, as people we knew were trickling in for the later show. We headed back home so we could get gothed up for Conspiracy, the kinky fetish dance and play party at The Crack Fox. At that point I had already decided I was not in a good enough head space for a trip, as right before we left for the day to go to to the park, I got hit with some unexpected…plot twists. For one, I knew that being in around someone I recently unfriended (and abhor their behavior for what it is doing to one of my friends) would not be conducive to the therapeutic effects I was seeking. So I ended up just getting really drunk and high instead. And it was still so much fun! A big group of friends met us there and hung out almost the entire night. James and I got to play a bit on the edge of the stage because, as I’ve found, doing scenes in public is part of my humiliation kink. Yes, I do get inebriated and still do scenes because I trust my husband implicitly, and getting out of my own head first is the only way for me to get into sub-space. People can say what they want, it’s how I like my BDSM. We left the bar shortly before last call, and had a ridiculously fun romp at home. All the while, I kept the antagonistic triggers at bey so I could go into Sunday with all the good, happy feelings.
They Call Me Mellow Yellow
Setting the alarm before bed for a mere six hours later at 10:30am proved to be a wise choice, as we were able to move an afternoon meeting to mid-morning, before seeing my family for me and my sister’s joint birthday lunch at Mellow Mushroom. This was suggested before I even thought about tripping this weekend, but it seemed fortuitous that James suggested it and my sister was already going to. I chopped up some fungus before leaving for the gathering to take with to the park afterwards. We did a half-and-half pizza with one side being all mushrooms, intentionally to mask the flavor of the ones I’d be adding later. When we got to the park after lunch, and I started to choke down and gag on the dry, musky bits on top of the delicious doughy goodness, James starting asking me about the drink I’d had at the Monocle the night before. Which was odd because he doesn’t drink, so I was confused by his sudden interest in the ingredients. He then proceeded to talk about various foods and beverages until I’d consumed all of the slice and extra toppings. He proudly exclaimed “it worked!” as he’d cleverly distracted me with thinking of different tastes and foods so I wouldn’t think about the source of my gagging. Such a clever fellow. One of the many reasons he’s my soulmate.
Walking around Laumier through hardly traveled trails far away from the sculptures was exactly what I needed to get me into the right mindset for the day. I did slip down a rough part of a steep path once, but it was a gentle fall and quite expected it. I brushed myself off and kept traveling through to see where we ended up. After about an hour of exploring and Pokemon hunting, I started to feel very, very heavy. We were both starting to feel the effects of the heat of the day and decided to head home. I started tripping hard as we left the park. I was a little shaky at first, because of the lack of a full night’s rest and the caffeine from the Mellow Yellow at the restaurant, and I was worried about traveling on the highway. James suggested I lay my seat back, and I watched the beautiful clouds and trees, noticing none of the cars on the way home. He knew exactly how to take care of me.
When we arrived back the stairs leading up to the main floor from the garage seemed an impossible feat, but I managed to make it up to the top, only to find myself wanting to sink into the floor as soon as I was able to. I handed James the CD on our table, the one our friend Matt Monroe had given us the night before at the show. I had immediately become transfixed by the eyes on the album cover for Turtle Club, and knew that I needed to listen to it. We ended up hearing it twice , because I was so into it I just wanted it to keep going. I started by dancing on the floor, rolling around, doing kicks and toe points and all of the sexy things I am too afraid to do on stage. I got up and danced around, tossing clothing when it got too cumbersome or hot to wear. I felt the music in my soul and my bones. “This is how I work on my art” I thought to myself. I ended up near at the foot of the stairs to the top floor, staring all the way up to the skylight which seemed, again, impossibly far away. I kept saying how much my eyes were watering, then I realized it was because I was so happy I was crying.
By the time I was ready to go outside, I had already shed most of my clothing, so James went and grabbed one of my sarongs and wrapped me in it, because it was a somehow difficult task for me at that moment. We put chairs out on the back patio and watched the clouds drifting quickly through the sky, teasing of a rainstorm that would never materialize. We talked about life, work, improvements to our home, and our psychic connection. We’ve known for a long time that we are psychically linked. He had been feeling someone of the effects of my trip when he noticed he was touching his lips the way I’d been touching my teeth because of how interesting they felt. I gazed up at the clouds and remarked of them looking pixelated, which is how his vision looks all the time after his retina surgeries. I felt like I was looking at the world through his eyes. Before we went in, I got up and stood at the corner of the balcony, closed my eyes and felt the unseasonably cool late-July breeze flow through my hair, and across my skin, with a slight swaying back and forth. It felt like the deck was moving. I felt like I was on a cruise ship. I’ve never been on a cruise ship, but it was what I imagine it must feel like.
Once back inside James put on a Lo-Fi rainy day jazz station, and I untied the sarong and danced more about the livingroom with it flowing around me like a veil. Eventually I melted onto his lap on the couch, feeling the happiest I’ve probably ever felt in my life. After he’d already stopped telling me corny jokes, I kept laughing hysterically at literally nothing. I was laughing at laughing. It was a good time. One of the things that made my trip so fun was that he had come up with ideas of things to do that I would enjoy, and I got to pick whatever I wanted, as long as I was still having fun. We took the long journey upstairs, where the full length mirror at the top had been turned around at my request, and the next part of the day’s fun was about to begin. If having a blacklight jacuzzi bath with UV reactive toy boats and ambient jazz music while tripping sounds amazing, that’s because it absolutely is. We both enjoyed the crazy nature of our lives, being in our 30s, sitting in a blacklit bathroom. My dark purple towels were somehow glowing green under the lights, and I had to make sure I wasn’t imagining it. Just like I wasn’t imagining the random feather that appeared out of nowhere while I was dancing downstairs and playing with it floating through the air.
When he was done with the bath and starting to sweat, I continued my soak solo, thinking about the meaning of my existence while watching the plastic glowing boats float around each other, swirling in the whirlpool of the dark water. When I was done he was there to help me out of the tub and dry me off. I opened the door to the closet, leading into the bedroom, and the late afternoon warm sunny glow felt like stepping into another world. I kept saying how it felt like Wonderland. Earlier when I was looking in the mirror, my reflection seemed like a person in a different dimension. I finally understood “Through The Looking Glass.” The windows were opened and a towel was laid down, and I stared out the window feeling the glorious breeze as I was gifted with a THC oil full body massage. I melted into the bed. James was so patient, waiting until I was ready to be intimate, but it wasn’t quite yet the time. My tummy was starting to grumble, and it was time for more pizza. I was insistent on not eating the mushroom slices. We turned on Netflix and watched a show, and I started to wind down from the trip. I knew I would need to be productive at some point, so I smoked a little to try and wake up. After going to the bathroom I looked in the mirror and noticed how very much I look like my mom when she was younger. I started to cry, but not tears of joy. Every month, around this time, I cry a ton about how unfair what happened to her was. I miss her so much. I composed myself, and walked out of the bathroom, realizing I was definitely still tripping. We turned music back on, and I lit all our candles, turned off the lights, and started to cuddle with James. This, of course, led to the crescendo of sexual tension from hours of sensual dancing, touching, bathing, and loving my soul mate. It was a magical evening, and with the windows open right by us, I’m sure our neighbors within earshot would agree.
I started to write this post after I made myself come downstairs and work on the computer. Ridiculously tired, I had to finish it today. I can already tell the trip had a positive effect. Being a Monday, during the crabbiest week of my month, with ridiculous customers vying for my limited time, and a whole lot of stress from various sources, I was pretty well adapted at handling it. I did not let my emotions get the better of me when presented with a situation that needed logic. I finished the day with a smile, and an appreciation for my weird little life. It’s a wonder what an altered perspective can do for one’s mental health.