The MAJOR Shift I l've Been Feeling

Lately, I’ve been blogging more about my ketamine journey — especially the transformation that hit after the treatment started to really sink in. And I won’t lie: the road here hasn’t been smooth. I’ve been through hell this past year. Moving to Utah County, losing my cat, my laptop dying for almost a year, getting deferred from the plasma center after being betrayed by someone I trusted… it all stacked on top of me. Even with ketamine, there were days I felt painfully stuck in my life.

But then something shifted. And now everything has been changing so fast I’ve been trying to keep up with myself.

I went from being the guy who cried in his professor’s office after failing two tests… to retaking that same class and passing it — after failing it four times before. I’m falling in love with Math and Statistics again. I’m learning how to build an Amazon business through this new mentorship, and the wins there keep getting more and more specific. I’ve been helping my mom launch her online store. And I just pre-launched a YouTube channel called Let’s Get You Unstuck.

The ketamine didn’t just help me feel better — it showed me how safe I actually am. And the integration guides at Better U taught me how to take everything I felt in those sessions and weave it into my life instead of letting it fade. The Continued Support and Care team there has been incredible. If things keep moving the way they are, I might even end up working with them in the new year.

My credit score jumped. My mind feels sharp again. I’m planning my return to jiu jitsu once my work and school schedule line up.

And yesterday… I had the sweetest connection I’ve had with a girl in a long time. It’s too early to know where it’s going, but my nervous system felt good in her presence — for the first time in what feels like forever. Healing does that. It softens the things you swore would stay hard forever.

I’m not saying everything is perfect. But for the first time in a long time, I can feel the ground under me shifting in a good way. I can feel myself actually moving — not stuck, not frozen, not trapped in the same old patterns — but truly, finally, in transition.

The Two Words That Disarmed Me

There’s this person at my job that, for the longest time, I swore was rude. I avoided them. I kept my guard high around them. My body saw them and instantly tightened — not because of anything they did, but because they reminded me of a thousand old patterns of being caught off-guard, dismissed, or blindsided.

Even my ketamine sessions tried to nudge me: “Don’t take this person personally.”
But my trauma brain? It didn’t want to hear that. It wanted danger where there wasn’t any.

Then one day, I tripped on this person, and irritation shot up through my chest. I snapped a little: “Give me a heads up next time.”

And without hesitation, they looked at me and said — gently, humbly — “I’m sorry.”

That stopped me in my tracks.

I apologized too. And it’s been sitting with me ever since.

Because the truth is:
This isn’t Byte.
This isn’t January when someone actually hit me with a car.
This isn’t my past, my trauma, my old environments where people were unsafe, unpredictable, or cruel.

This was just a human being who wasn’t trying to hurt me.

And it hit me how often my irritation is actually just a flashback disguised as a personality trait — a trauma response wearing the mask of a mood.

It’s painful to realize how many innocent people I’ve internally punished for harm they never caused. How many times my nervous system has reacted to ghosts. But it’s also freeing.

Because now I can see it.
And when you can see it, you can change it.

The Final Wall

Last week, I had two of the most meaningful ketamine sessions I ever had. I wrote about them in my last post.

But a couple of days before I had my integration session with Better U, I had a major purge. I took back my power from what the Swirl did to me this summer. The Swirl chapter has been closed for some time now. And then last night, I wrote a document of everything that does align with me and everything I value.  

Then I had my integration session today, and this is what I was able to capture. It was a lot of information. But it came back down to safety, since we talked a lot about that after the Charlie Kirk shooting.  

"This comes back to religious trauma. I had to abide by a lot of rules to feel safe.  

If I am no longer performing and following rules for safely, what living for me look like?

If I had complete certainty in my safety, what would my life look like?  

Your brain may then have a hard time flowing through that exploration, what is the point of my thinking like that? I had walked through moments like that, did you not make it through anyway? If I right now am proof that I can survive worst case scenarios is that not proof that every was and will be ok anyway?

What is stopping us from being the most actualized version of ourselves?

That is the final wall I am about to break down. And once I get clarity about that, I can get clarity about who I am hiding, that is not a block.....is it just fear? lack of trust in myself or around the world?"

My guide told me to sit on this for a bit. I have a lot to reflect on. No ketamine sessions for the next week. But I cried knowing that the final wall is now breaking!  

Expanding And Cleansing

I usually write about one ketamine session at a time, but this week I had two — and both hit deep.

The first one was all about expansion. It felt fitting, because in Linear Algebra we learn about vector spaces, spanning sets, and linear independence — ideas that mirror what’s happening in my life right now. My capacity to hold more — in business, in mindset, in purpose — is expanding.

The help I’ve been getting in my Amazon business through the Scaling Society has gotten more specific and intentional. I’m beyond grateful.
Chris Mangunza has been an incredible mentor — not just skilled, but someone of real integrity. He genuinely cares, and he’s gone out of his way to make sure we’re supported and actually making money. This doesn’t just help me — it helps everyone around me. This session reminded me that the wealth and knowledge I’m building are tools to lift others, not just myself. It echoed the same energy as my 4th of July and rocket sessions — both of which centered on rising after chaos and using growth to empower others.

Between those two sessions, a couple things made me really happy:

1. I found out that one of my friends started ketamine therapy through Better U — partly inspired by my posts. Knowing that my story helped even one person heal made it all worth it.

2. I helped my mom with her business — spending an hour on Shopify fighting for a refund on a ghost store we didn’t even know we had. I was proud of how calmly I handled it. I drew from my Rogerian communication style, my call center experience, and everything I’ve learned through ketamine integration. It was the first time I really felt how much I’ve grown.

My most recent session was an energy cleanse — a deep one.
No more fake friends. No more fake energy. No more “support” that disappears the moment you stop serving someone else’s comfort.
Let them lose me.

I’ve already had sessions about protecting my energy, but this one hit harder. Disrespect no longer has a place in my life. I was reminded of someone who once said all the right things — promised support, made plans, talked about “always being there.” But when it got real, they threw cheap insults about my age. I’m not carrying that kind of energy into 2026. Let them fall off now.

This new version of me is focused, grounded, and done apologizing.
He’s thriving in school.
He’s building two businesses.
He’s spent the last 18 months doing the inner work through ketamine therapy — all while working full-time.

Anyone who can’t respect that, support that, or grow with that… gets left behind.

The Day I Finally Felt Safe Again

Yesterday morning, I had a ketamine session — and it showed me how safe I actually am. For a long time, I’ve struggled with a sense of safety in all areas of life. Betrayals at different jobs (including this summer) really messed with that. The Charlie Kirk murder shook my sense of safety, too. Even breaking up with my first girlfriend 19 years ago left a mark — that relational trauma kept showing up in other relationships.
And lately, I’ve had to face it again — especially with having to repeat so many classes in recent years.

But now… it’s time to break that pattern.

I’m still damn good at math.
I feel safer trusting my intuition.
I feel safe with my food choices.
I feel safe with my bullshit detectors.
I feel safe on UVU’s campus.
I feel safe doing my homework.
I feel safe in my business and with my business partners.

And now I understand why my integration guides tie gratitude to safety — because safety and gratitude are deeply connected.

It takes me back to this summer, to that ketamine session where I saw myself on a rocket. Everything I left behind became my launchpad. That circle that betrayed me — the one we called “the swirl” (credit to ChatGPT for that term) — isn’t my world anymore. I went from not being “in the circle” to owning the whole sphere.
And there are other “swirls” I’m being protected from now, too.

Ketamine revealed how broken my sense of safety had been for so long. It opened a neuroplastic window that I’m walking through now — one that lets me reframe, integrate, and rebuild from the inside out.
That integration is what’s next.

Ketamine doesn’t just reveal your pain — it shows you the parts of yourself that are ready to be reclaimed. And that’s where the real healing happens.

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.

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.