I Did MDMA Therapy Before It Was Legal. For Me, It Was Transformative—But I Have Some Concerns | Rebecca Huntley

Health
By Liam

To quote Eliza Doolittle from My Fair Lady: I’m a good girl, I really am.

I am very careful with my tax returns, keep to the speed limit and send thank you cards when I am invited to someone’s house for dinner.

If you had told me three years ago that I would be breaking countless laws by seeking underground MDMA therapy for complex post-traumatic stress disorder, I would have laughed in your face. Let alone admit it publicly and in print.

But here I am. Why?

After decades of banning the use of MDMA, better known as ecstasy, Australia is now leading the way in MDMA therapy. Numerous clinical trials Research is currently underway into the potential of these drugs to treat PTSD, alcoholism, and chronic grief.

And, in a controversial world first, some Australian psychiatrists will be allowed to prescribe MDMA for post-traumatic stress disorder, or psilocybin for treatment-resistant depression, from July 1, 2023.

But my journey started before any of this happened. Before any of this was legal.

Photo: Rebecca Huntley

At 50, I had hit a plateau with my conventional approach to therapy (seeing a psychiatrist regularly) and with my own regimen of mental self-care (walking, meditation, yoga, time in nature). I was working overtime to try to process the violence and abuse I had experienced in my childhood, as well as a stillbirth and two miscarriages in my 30s. I was afraid that “mental health treatment as usual” would not help me move out of anger and toward acceptance.

On the advice of a psychologist friend, I started reading about trauma and its impact on the brain and body—books like The Myth of Normal by Gabor Mate and The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel van der Kolk. These authors write about the potential of psychedelic drugs like MDMA to help people with PTSD and complex childhood trauma.

Interesting, but for me not relevant information. I have never used ecstasy, not even in my wasted youth.

And then another friend told me about a session she’d had with an alternative therapist who offered underground MDMA therapy; through the treatment, she said, she’d been able to “relive” a particularly traumatic experience she’d had as a child, and had been able to comfort her child-self as a loving parent would. I was intrigued because this friend was just like me—measured, evidence-based. A good girl. I was concerned enough about my mental health plateau to try it.

I got in touch with this person, who we’ll call Julia, via email. But before she would meet me, I had to fill out a long questionnaire; pages of personal and medical information. She was trying to figure out if I was the right person. Was I ready?

I have done research on the drug and how it works: by flooding the brain with serotonin, which calms the amygdala – the part of the brain that processes fear and anxiety. This suppresses your fight or flight response, allowing some people to explore past experiences without the usual reactivity.

(It is crucial to note that results may vary. This type of treatment is not necessarily a safe way for everyone to explore past traumas. It can also be stressful for people whose experiences do not meet their expectations.)

Over a series of Zoom calls, Julia emphasized not the medicine but the process: three sessions spread over six months, with emotional and physical preparation and aftercare. She didn’t overpromise. The medicine was a facilitator of a process that wouldn’t “cure” me, she told me. What I brought to it, the work I was willing to do before and after, was what mattered.

The first session would last from 10am to 4pm. I would take one capsule of the drug at the beginning, and then she would offer me a second one after a few hours. Julia arrived with a backpack of MDMA, a composed soundtrack for our eight hours together, and a notepad to write down everything I would say.

skip the newsletter promotion

I had no reference point for what the drug could do to me, and a healthy dose of skepticism about alternative approaches to health. And yet the experience was transformative for me.

It was as if I was being swept away into a deep, warm ocean of emotions, carried along by a current from memory to memory, the memories being forgotten, repressed and reworked to make them more palatable.

Tears streamed down my face for hours as I visualized and felt intensely what lay beneath all my anger. A deep sorrow for both my parents, for all the pain they had endured as children and throughout their lives. The only way out of anger is of course empathy, compassion. I knew that intellectually, but after taking MDMA I could almost feel it on a cellular level.

‘I worry that all the enthusiasm for this approach opens a trap that we often fall into: that we can cure all our ailments with a pill.’ Photo: portokalis/Getty Images/iStockphoto

This session was followed by two more MDMA sessions over a six-month period with Julia, with numerous integration sessions and support from my friends and my regular psychiatrist (who was non-judgmental and curious about my experience). I began to step back from the plateau, enthusiastic again about my familiar regimen of psychiatric care, walking, time in nature, and so on.

With Australia leading the world in the adoption of MDMA therapy, I am in a unique position. I have experienced how MDMA can play a role in healing, but I am also very concerned about the risks, especially when prescribed or experienced without trained professionals.

I, like some in the psychiatric community, am concerned about making this therapy available before we have a more robust evidence base for its use and a long-term safety profile of the drugs. I am also concerned about lobby groups rather than experts leading the way.

Then there is the question of who gets access to the treatment and how to determine for whom the treatment might be harmful (apart from the risk of a bad trip, not everyone has the safety nets I had: a safe family, socio-economic and cultural privileges, and a lot of therapy under their belt).

Can the people who would benefit most afford the treatment? In some cases, the treatment costs $24,000 per person. (There is currently not enough evidence for the therapy to warrant government funding.) Can those who do undergo the therapy still access essential additional care after treatment? And what would the best support and care look like?

While the underground MDMA therapy has been entirely positive for me, I fear that all the enthusiasm for this approach opens up a trap that we often fall into when it comes to tackling our complex mental health issues: the misconception that there is a miracle cure and that we can cure all our ailments with a pill.

You might also like More from author