I owe my deepest gratitude to ketamine treatment.
If I had found Better U in my twenties, maybe I could’ve avoided years of silent suffering.
This week marked the anniversary of losing someone I loved dearly.
Her death didn’t just reopen old wounds — it dragged me back into the trauma I thought I had buried after my dad’s death two decades ago.
Ketamine didn’t erase that pain.
It gave me the courage to finally face it without running.
The day before her anniversary, I had the most peaceful ketamine session I’ve ever experienced.
It wasn’t beautiful because I was numb — it was beautiful because, for the first time, I could sit with everything without trying to escape.
Almost a year of integration work had brought me here.
I could feel the difference: I was at peace, even as waves of grief and love crashed through me.
But peace doesn’t mean painless.
That session cracked me wide open.
It brought so many raw emotions to the surface that I felt exposed in ways I wasn’t ready for.
I found myself overly emotional — even embarrassed by how much was pouring out in my behavior, my texts, the way I showed up.
I finally understood the real meaning of "psychedelic" — psyche: the soul; delos: to reveal.
Ketamine didn’t just reveal my soul — it ripped the cover off and handed it back to me, trembling and alive.
In my desperation to "fix" the emotional flooding, I scheduled another ketamine session almost immediately.
But it backfired. Hard.
This time, there was no psychedelic intensity, no profound revelations — just a heavy, empty feeling.
Like my mind was saying, No. Not like this.
It hit me:
I’m not in the early days anymore, when I needed sessions every few days just to stabilize.
My body — my soul — was telling me loud and clear:
Slow the fuck down. Respect the work you’ve already done.
Integration isn’t about drowning yourself in treatments.
It’s about pacing with your own healing, even when you’re uncomfortable.
Even when you’re scared you’re "not doing enough."
Pushing harder wasn’t going to save my progress — it was going to fucking kill it.
Ketamine cracked me open.
Integration is what’s rebuilding me.
Without the psychedelic highs.
Without the urgent fixes.
Without chasing an escape.
Real healing is a lot quieter.
A lot messier.
A lot more fucking real.
Better U didn’t just hand me a treatment plan — they handed me a goddamn lifeline.
If you’re ready to stop running and start healing, I can’t recommend them enough.
And if you decide to begin your own journey with Better U, you can use my code NANDO84.
It’ll save you some money — but more importantly, it’s my way of paying it forward.
Because this work saved my life.
Healing isn’t linear.
It’s not clean.
It’s messy. It’s beautiful.
It’s brutal.
And it’s worth every fucking ounce of effort.
Trust the slow work. Trust the soul work.
And if ketamine treatment is part of your story, treat it like the sacred mirror it is — not an escape hatch.
Your healing deserves your whole heart.
Nothing less.
