Growth Isn’t Always Pretty

The Messy Necessary Truth About Psychedelic Healing

If you’re seeking a perfectly smooth, euphoric, Instagram-worthy path to mental well-being through psychedelics, I hate to break it to you, but you might be better off with a scented candle and a meditation app. The idea that psychedelic experiences are always a one-way ticket to blissful enlightenment is not only misleading but dangerously reductive. Similarly, those alarmist headlines warning of catastrophic outcomes from these journeys—"Retreat Participant Feels Worse After Psychedelics!"—miss the point entirely. Growth is messy. Healing is uncomfortable. And any promise to the contrary is, quite honestly, a misleading fantasy.

Of course, you can have a beautiful, blissful journey. Of course, you can dance beneath the stars, feel the universe breathe with you, and dissolve into a current of love so vast it erases the edges of who you thought you were. But the true gift of psychedelics isn’t just found in the euphoria—it’s in the unraveling, the surrender, the quiet reckoning with the parts of yourself long buried. It’s in the storm before the stillness, the shedding before the bloom. Healing isn’t always wrapped in golden light; sometimes, it comes in waves of tears, in shadows unearthed, in the aching beauty of becoming something new. And yet, through it all, there is a current of grace, pulling you toward something deeper, something truer. If you dare to trust the journey, you may just find that even in the breaking, there is breathtaking rebirth.

Though they can provide solutions for mental health conditions, taking psychedelics as a quick "cure" for your symptoms is like signing up for yoga solely to touch your toes. Sure, you might get there, but that was never the point. These substances, like yoga or meditation, can work on a far deeper level, helping us shed outdated patterns, confront uncomfortable truths, and reconnect with our authentic selves. But here’s the kicker: those outdated patterns don’t go quietly. Healing often feels like falling apart, and that’s because, in many ways, you are. The phrase “15 years of therapy in one session” gets thrown around a lot, but people rarely consider what that actually entails. It’s not all sunsets and self-love—it’s more like ugly crying on the bathroom floor at 3 am while questioning every life choice you’ve ever made.

Yet, in the rawness of those moments, where everything feels like it’s unraveling, lies the fertile ground where true transformation begins.

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The Beautiful Chaos of Growth

When we engage with psychedelics in a cultural context that holds space for the good, all the way to the downright terrifying, we honor the full spectrum of the human experience. The problem is, Western reductionism often attempts to package this work into a sterile, symptom-treating box, where everything fits neatly into clinical paradigms. Spoiler: it doesn’t.

Before you freak out… clinical settings have immense value—structured, evidence-based approaches are essential for safety, accessibility, and legitimizing this work within modern medicine. But that’s not what we’re here to discuss. We’re here to talk about the wild, untamed terrain of the psyche, the initiatory nature of these journeys, and the kind of healing that may not always be measured in clinical trials but is felt in the deepest marrow of our being.

True healing requires integration—a messy, nonlinear process where breakthroughs often feel like breakdowns. And this is why safe, informed containers are critical. A skilled facilitator understands that participants need a space to feel supported while they confront their inner chaos. Healing doesn’t come with mood lighting and lo-fi beats. I mean, it sometimes can, and we’re certainly not opposed. But in its essence, healing is raw, it’s uncomfortable, and it often requires navigating deeply buried emotions. Without a container that can hold this, people risk feeling lost, overwhelmed, or worse—unheard.

Growth can be arduous and unrefined, but with the right support, it becomes a journey of profound and enduring significance.

Art: Dundas by Owen Grant

The Media Problem: Clickbait vs. Reality

The media, unsurprisingly, loves a good scandal. Whether it’s evangelical headlines that paint psychedelics as miracle cures or watchdog exposés that frame every bad trip as evidence of inherent danger, there’s little room for nuance in today’s attention economy. A headline like “Person Feels Worse After Retreat” is clickbait gold, but it reduces a complex and deeply human process to a cautionary tale. The truth? Healing can often feel worse before it feels better. That’s not a failure—it’s the nature of growth.

What’s really missing is honest, informed storytelling. Yes, there are risks, and participants need to know them. Yes, there are inexperienced facilitators and bad actors, and people should learn how to spot them. But there’s also incredible potential in this work when approached with respect, intention, and preparation. We need articles and stories that highlight the full spectrum: the beauty, the discomfort, the breakthroughs, the necessity of integration, and the profound transformation that can emerge. Only through such balanced narratives can we begin to truly understand and honor the depth of what these experiences offer—and perhaps uncover even greater possibilities for healing and growth.

The opportunity for media lies in bridging the gap between sensationalism and substance, offering nuanced, balanced coverage that educates, empowers, and inspires. Who will rise to the occasion, prioritizing substance over sensationalism, and commit to telling the deeper, more complex stories that this field demands?

The question is not just how we tell these stories, but whether we’re willing to tell them with the care and depth they deserve—stories that don’t just inform but transform.

So This is The Work

This is what healing demands—not just the light, but the willingness to walk through the dark with open eyes and an open heart. Psychedelics don’t hand you answers on a silver platter; they invite you into the depths of yourself, where the real work begins. The unraveling, the surrender, and the reckoning. If we approach these experiences with reverence, curiosity, and the courage to integrate what arises, we don’t just return to our old lives with a few insights—we emerge changed. Not perfect, not magically "healed," but more whole, more honest, and more in tune with the truth of who we are. And that, messy as it may be, is the real magic of the journey.

Art: I’m on fire by Soph Rowe

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