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.