The UVU You Don't See On the News

What saddens me almost as much as the event itself is knowing that, for a long time, the only thing people will see when they type “Utah Valley University” into Google is the tragedy that just happened.

But UVU is so much more than a headline. It’s an incredibly amazing school — a place that has given me more support than anywhere else I’ve studied. The professors here are incredible: always willing to help, always accessible. I’ve even been able to ask professors who don’t teach my classes for help, and they’ve taken the time. That kind of culture is rare.

UVU is the best place I know for nontraditional students. They started as a community college and, even after upgrading to university status, they kept that same structure of accessibility and support. Education here is truly built to meet students where they are. And with so many different programs, there’s a pathway for almost every career you could imagine.

The support network is unmatched: academic coaching, learning strategists, the Math Lab, and even direct access to someone in the Dean of Students’ office. I’ve worked closely with faculty who didn’t just care about my grades but about me as a whole person. The Assistant Math Department Chair — who also happens to be the mother of someone I grew up with — has been phenomenal. UVU is also one of the very few schools in Utah that offers Statistics as its own major rather than just a math emphasis, and they even have an Actuarial Science concentration — something not even USF offered when I looked there.

Working in Dr. Kidd’s statistics lab has given me a chance to build my resume and connect with the professional world in ways I never imagined. These opportunities show how far UVU has come. Gone are the days when it was mainly seen as a springboard to transfer somewhere else. UVU stands as an amazing institution in its own right, and I’m sad that right now the outside world won’t see that side of it.

The UVU I know isn’t just the place that made the news. It’s a place where professors open their doors, where nontraditional students thrive, where opportunity is everywhere if you reach for it. That’s the UVU I carry with me — and it’s the story worth telling.

From Insult to Launchpad

 This session was the last time someone’s rude words pushed me toward treatment. For a long time, the swirl kept dragging me back—27 extra sessions worth. But when I walked into this one, I’d already been doing linear algebra problems, understanding free variables, and scoring 87% on a quiz for a class I once failed three times. The medicine didn’t show me escape—it reintroduced me to a younger version of myself: Fernando who always loved math, always loved statistics, before he even knew the depth of his trauma.

Yes, the swirl hurt. They threw cheap shots about my age, they contradicted themselves, they revealed the dysfunction of that environment. But here’s the paradox: their chaos became my launchpad. The treatment they pushed me back into is the same treatment that broke my mental blocks, got me back into school, and reminded me who I am.

Now I’m not just a student. I’m scaling an Amazon business under world-class mentorship, I’m helping my mom launch hers, I’m balancing school, work, and healing. The swirl is behind me. The grind is in front of me. And I finally understand: love isn’t in their words, it’s in how I keep showing up.

The Medicine Is In Me Now

I don’t even know where to start.

This last week hit me in a way I didn’t see coming. It showed me something I didn’t think I’d be ready to admit — I’m starting to need ketamine less and less. And I’m relying on my integration more and more.

Fernando from two weeks ago would’ve called my last two sessions total duds. Waste of time. Waste of money. And yeah, in the past, I’ve gotten pissed when my sessions were too close together or didn’t “hit” deep. But now… now I see it. I don’t need them as much as I thought.

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The Scare That Lit Everything Up

So a few days ago, I thought my car was stolen. I’m not talking about a “oh maybe I misplaced my keys” kind of thing. I fully believed it was gone. For two days. I called the police. Filed a report.

My stepdad told me, “Go talk to the neighbors. See if they’ve got cameras.” One of them did.

Monday night, 7:21 p.m. — there’s me, driving away.
8:20 p.m. — there’s me again… walking home.

And it hit me like a brick: I drove to the grocery store… and completely forgot I’d walked back.

The whole thing set off alarms in my head. Triggered old trauma. Pulled up memories of past suicidal thoughts. It was bad enough that I booked an emergency Continued Support Care call. That’s when I met Ludwig.

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Meeting Ludwig

This man… Ludwig… had the kind of energy you feel in your chest. Gentle. Present. Safe.

He got my ADHD. He got my healing journey. He even arranged the call so we had unlimited time — no clock ticking down in the background. And then he thanked me for sharing my story with Better U.

I cried writing this.

While he talked, I thought about my rocket session. The “protect your energy” one. The “it all starts with me” one. I even sent him the blog post link about it. Ludwig, if you ever see this — I’m sending so much love your way.

He taught me something I can’t unhear: every time you say I release…, follow it with what you want to welcome in. That’s not just setting intentions — that’s rewriting your life mid-sentence.

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The “Dud” That Wasn’t

While I was writing about all this, ketamine took me on a full-on gratitude tour.

And I swear — I’d sat down thinking, Well, this is going to be another dud. Like the one I had three days before. But I’ve learned ketamine can be sneaky. Merciful. (I wrote about that here.)

I decided this would be my last emergency session for now. I’m saving the rest for when seasonal depression and trauma start knocking later in the year. September is officially my integration month — and by “September,” I mean starting now.

This session gave me peace with the idea that those deep, trippy rides will get fewer and further between. And that’s okay. This is integration season.

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Memory Lane with Lacey

Lying there, thinking nothing was happening, I drifted into this memory. Back when I lived at The Ivy at Draper — a 55+ community. First with my mom, then alone because the managers loved me.

I’d walk my mom’s dog, Lacey, to the park four times a day. That little dog was like a social magnet. She helped me make so many connections. Losing her in 2022 — the night before the anniversary of my dad’s passing — hurt in a way I can’t even put into clean sentences.

Even when my Amazon business takes off and I buy my own house, I know I’m never going back to a little apartment community. But damn… that chapter, that dog… they shaped me.

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Carrying the Medicine Inside

Better U has an integration guide that says to take your ketamine sessions and hold them inside you like a ball of energy. This “dud” session proved that’s exactly what’s happening.

It even reignited my love for statistics and math. A past session took me on a mental tour of UVU. This quiet one made me reflect. All those days of mental blocks, failing classes since my USF days — they’re over.

One of the big bosses from the Dean of Students office once told me:

“Don’t think of support as weakness. Think of it as what keeps you strong. You’ll learn new skills and get better and better.”

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The Launchpad

As much as “the swirl” hurt me at the time, they were the launchpad for my rocket. Earlier sessions told me to be kind. To protect my energy. To remember “it starts with me.” This one told me not to overextend.

And those sessions that started an hour late? They reminded me: not everything happens on my timeline.

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This wasn’t just a session. It was a shift.

From chasing intensity…
to living in integration.
From needing the medicine…
to carrying it with me.

Not Just a Reply - A Realignment

What a Difference a Couple of Months Make

I’m now friends with my favorite Survivor contestant of all time.

This is someone I watched on national TV when Survivor was still at its peak — someone who later became a professor, then left that role to lead disaster health services at one of the most respected relief organizations in the country. In short: she’s incredibly busy. And she still made the time to send the kindest, most detailed reply to an internet stranger.

She updated me on her life. She enthusiastically offered to meet up. She took genuine interest in my Statistics degree — and asked me why I chose it. Shawna Mitchell, who I fanboyed over 22 years ago, took the time to see me.

A month ago, I went back into ketamine therapy after some relational fallouts left me gutted. Since then, everything has shifted.
My Amazon business is taking off.
My love for Statistics has been reignited.
And now, even the heroes of my teenage years are showing up in my life — not as distant idols, but as kindred spirits willing to connect.

I’m still working a job that forces me to revisit the scene of past pain. But the gravitational pull has changed. The orbit is no longer around rejection, confusion, or ghosting — it’s centered on healing, connection, and momentum.

Here’s to meeting more people like Shawna Mitchell.

In her season of Survivor, on the very episode she was voted out, Rob Cesternino said:

“You’re a genuinely kind person, and you put the needs of the tribe before your own… and unfortunately, that makes you a terrible Survivor player.”

And isn’t that the truth about this world sometimes? That kindness gets punished. That soft hearts get labeled liabilities.

But Shawna went on to build a beautiful life — far beyond that game.
And she just helped spark a new chapter in mine.

Thank you, Shawna, for reminding me what it looks like to lead with heart.
To rise with grace.
To ignite my own rocket, kite, Breakaway.

Shortly after I first saw you on Survivor, I survived four hurricanes in one month while on my Mormon mission. And now, all these years later, I’m surviving the emotional wreckage left behind by the swirl.

But this time… I’m surviving with a Christmas jar in one hand, a lit-up rocket in the other, and my torch finally burning bright again —
with Russ Landau’s Ancient Voices
and a reunited Oasis
as the soundtrack to my comeback.

My Ressurection Ride

My last ketamine session could not have ended more beautifully—or more unexpectedly.

I came in with a clear and vulnerable intention:
Remove all blockages to love.

But at first? It felt like a total dud.
Nothing happened. I sat through the entire playlist, and the medicine just… didn’t land. It was like I flushed $100 down the drain.

So I did what I often do in that liminal frustration: I started typing. Pouring out three years of context to ChatGPT—layered pain, buried memories, relational wreckage that still bleeds.

What began as a reflection on a recent rupture took me all the way back to Byte.

Back to a time I was grieving the traumatic death of my cousin…
Performing well at work but made to feel invisible and disposable…
Getting lovebombed and discarded by a coworker who once said dating me was "so different"—until she turned cold and said, “You’re no better than any other guy.”

Back to EMDR sessions.
Back to talk therapy.
Back to ADHD support meetings.
Back to crying in front of my computer with no one to talk to.

And back to the HR director who once pretended to empathize—then flipped, screamed at me, and weaponized my trauma against me.

I typed all of that an hour after I had already swallowed the medicine, convinced this session was a waste.

But the moment I finished writing and put on my eye mask—
The medicine came online.
Softly. Slowly. Sacredly.

Spotify had moved on from my carefully curated playlist to the algorithm’s recommendations. And that’s when ketamine threw me a lifeline.

It felt like I was on a carousel ride of grace.

The message was clear and immediate:

“Please be kind to yourself. You’ve already survived more than enough.”

It gave me a tour.
A tour of the last three years.
A tour of the UVU gym.
A spiritual cleansing of all the hidden places grief still lived in me.

And suddenly, everything made sense.

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I saw how the first rocket session had already shown me expansion and escape.
I remembered the symbolism in my other sessions:

• A shitty job becoming the launchpad
• Overgiving to people who didn’t deserve me
• Christmas jars
• Breakaway, Kite, the soul of someone from 10 years ago
• The command: Protect your energy

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And now this session connected it all.
Like a final puzzle piece locking in.

It showed me why my therapist at USF was so adamant about self-compassion.
It reminded me that since reclaiming that mindset, I’ve fallen back in love with statistics.
I’ve regained momentum in my Amazon business.
I’ve stepped into jiujitsu.
I’m building muscle, discipline, and clarity.
And I’m getting real help—real support—to finally win in this next chapter.

This time, the rocket isn’t just launching me into better relationships…
It’s launching me into better jobs, better boundaries, and a better life.

Because now I know:

• I will never again stay in a place where I’m disposable
• I will never again tolerate lovebombing, stonewalling, discards, gaslighting, or ghosting

My energy is sacred now.
And it’s time to act like it.

No more chasing people who can’t hold me.
No more giving the best of me to places that only take.
No more trying to earn the love I already deserve.

This was more than a ketamine trip.
It was a reckoning.
A blessing.
A rebirth.

Now that I’ve seen what’s better—
It’s time to be better.

A Better Me.
A Better Life.
A Better U.

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The Phrase That Closed The Loop

I just had my final twice-a-week ketamine session—and ketamine never ceases to amaze me.

Earlier this week, I had my integration meeting with my guide, and he introduced me to that podcast I shared in my stories—the one about the gut being your second brain. It resonated deeply, especially given everything that’s been unfolding in my life.

I recently went through a painful and messy fallout with a couple of people. It left me feeling hurt, betrayed, and raw. That relational pain lingered hard this month. I knew my treatment was winding down, so I made a conscious decision to focus on relational trauma this round.

This all coincided with something unexpected and emotionally loaded: my favorite band, Oasis, reunited after 16 years. That moment stirred up a storm inside me. Grief, hope, nostalgia—and somehow, a surge of rocket energy. From there, things started aligning. There came a Christmas jar. And song after song started showing up in my life, all with a shared theme: U2's Kite, Kelly Clarkson's Breakaway, Dropline's Fly Away From Here.

I didn’t come all this way just to stay small.

I'm the guy who’s had over 60 ketamine sessions, healing layers of trauma I thought would bury me. I'm finally finishing school, balancing two businesses, training in jiujitsu. I’ve outgrown the patterns of tolerating emotional scraps and pretending that chaos is normal. This blog isn’t about petty personal tea, so I’ll leave it at that.

But here’s what matters:

As soon as I thought the words "protect my energy," I had the deepest session I’ve EVER had.

I don’t remember the visuals. I don’t remember exact details. But I remember how it felt. Everything in my system aligned behind that phrase. It became the session’s entire message. Its medicine.

A few sessions ago, ketamine showed me some brutal honesty—how I overextend, where I leak energy, how I try to earn love. This session was the follow-up. But this time, I wasn’t alone or exposed. I felt shielded from the gaslighting, the future faking, the manipulation, the deflection. I saw clearly:

I am no longer available to those people.
Their chaos is not worth re-triggering my trauma.
My energy is sacred. My rocket energy must be protected.

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The Power of One Phrase

This session was already loaded with intention. I’d gone in asking to:

• Heal my relationship with my gut (my second brain)
• Trust myself again
• Create effortless flow in my studies, my business, and my relationships
• Let go of the need to do everything through force

But those are broad goals—big-picture shifts. The moment I thought "protect your energy," everything condensed. It was like every intention I had suddenly clicked into place behind that one phrase.

And my nervous system recognized it. My body stopped resisting. My gut finally felt safe.

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Why Ketamine Responds to Truth

Ketamine is strange and sacred. 

"Protect your energy" hit on every level:

• Somatic: It relaxed my gut and helped me drop in fast.
• Psychological: It rewired old loops about self-worth and boundarylessness.
• Spiritual: It affirmed that I’m allowed to choose peace over chaos.

It was a phrase that spoke to my trauma—but also to my readiness to evolve. And the medicine responded not with visions or voices—but with depth. Stillness. Knowing.

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This Is Energetic Realignment

Something in me has changed. For real. I no longer feel the pull to chase the trip. This session showed me that the craving for the experience—the addiction to going deep just to feel real—is gone.

I didn’t lose the magic. I became it.

The trip lives in me now. The healing is here, not “out there.”

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Final Reflection

If you’ve been stuck in the swirl—of overthinking, overgiving, emotional chaos—your body knows. Your gut has probably been whispering to you for a while.

And if you ever enter a healing space—whether it's ketamine, therapy, meditation, or even journaling—carry this phrase with you:

"Protect your energy."

This phrase turned my session from just another check-in into a soul-level reset.

I’ll never forget it. And I’ll never again forget to honor it.

If you are ready for this type of healing, go to betterucare.com and use my promocode NANDO84 for $100 diecount on your first purchase.

The Kindness That Carried Me

This last ketamine session was relatively weak. No deep trip. But somehow, it ended up being one of the most impactful sessions I’ve ever had.

It brought me straight to my place of work 10 years ago at Progressive Leasing.  I got a text the night before — from my sweet friend Kirsi.

I’ve known Kirsi for over 10 years. We met at Progressive Leasing during a time when life was heavy. Those years weren’t easy, and honestly, neither were the years that followed. We missed each other when we were both in Florida, and now somehow, life brought us both back to Utah. Through it all, Kirsi has been one of those rare people who just gets it.

She’s the kind of friend everyone deserves to have.

Kirsi has this way of making people feel like their best selves. She brings good energy. She sees the inner work you’re doing — and celebrates it. She tells you she’s proud of you, and she means it. She doesn’t just say “I love you,” she backs it up with consistency, kindness, and actions that speak louder than words.

During the session, I kept being pulled back to her message.  And then I started thinking about everything my therapist at the University of South Florida used to say about self-compassion and connection. Suddenly the session wasn’t about visuals. It was about grace.  From my termination at Progressive to flunking out of USF, to my arrest in Georgia for forgetting to pay for my licence reinstatement fee, it felt like the cycle of pain never ends.  

The medicine helped me feel compassion for my younger self — the version of me working at Progressive Leasing, dragging around years of pain I didn’t know how to process. I mourned the fact I didn’t have access to ketamine or Better U back then. 

Usually my sessions end with a kind of celebration — this felt quieter. More subtle. But maybe that’s the point.

This time, the celebration came in the integration. In the realization. In the whisper:
You’ve carried so much. And you’re still here.

So today, I want to celebrate that.
And say a special thank you to Kirsi — for being a steady light through all these years.
For showing me what true support looks like.

If you feel ketamine therapy is right for you, go to betterucare.com and use my promo code NANDO84 to get $100 off.