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.
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
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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