After a woman gives birth, it's not entirely uncommon for her to go through a period of serious depression. We all know this. In fact, it's so common it has a name – post-pardum depression. By and large, we view it simply as what it is – a possible consequence or aftermath of childbirth. It is something we watch out for and treat when it comes up, but it's not something we view as terrifying and mysterious. There is no movement (at least I hope there's not) that is encouraging women to stop having babies because of the risks of post-pardum depression. This would be silly; lots of women describe the day they gave birth as the best day of their life and having babies obviously isn't a problem.
And from what I understand, mothers frequently describe giving birth as a life-changing event and the greatest accomplishment of their lives. Indeed, the moment a mother delivers her baby she successfully overcomes what is likely the biggest obstacle she has ever faced – an obstacle that, for the hours leading up to that moment, seemed completely overwhelming. Many women experience an altered state of consciousness while in labor, which science tells us is due to naturally occurring chemicals that are released in the brain. After giving birth, she returns to waking life with a sense of overwhelming joy, accomplishment, and a strong instinct to protect and care for her newborn child.
And interestingly enough, this description of childbirth is very similar to what many people experience when they take psychedelic drugs. Oh man, I got you! This essay is really about drugs! I lulled you in with two paragraphs about childbirth, and now I have the gall to compare eating filthy, illegal drugs I bought on the street to the natural beauty of childbirth. But let me explain – this essay isn't that long and I swear there's truth to this...
The psychedelic experience is indeed very similar to what I have described in the second paragraph. Upon taking the drug, the space cadet is likely presented with some sort of obstacle. This obstacle often involves first being confronted with a skeleton in the closet, and then being made to decide whether to deal with said skeleton or to be plagued by it for what seems like an eternity. This situation is akin to that of the mother-to-be in the throes of labor, who is presented with the option of either giving birth or staying pregnant forever. In the case of the either the space cadet or the woman in labor, both of their options seem pretty terrible.
Yes, the space cadet is also transported to an altered state of consciousness, one in which time seems to stand still and his demons seem more patient than he ever could be. This can be a very uncomfortable place to be, and having all this thrust upon him in an unpleasant setting will only make matters worse. Examples of unpleasant environments include a loud party full of strangers, a jail cell, an expanse of wilderness in which he finds himself lost, or any place with his parents or some other authority figure yelling at him. Some environments are equally unpleasant and potentially dangerous to a woman in labor, most notably hospitals. Both his and her environments have a dramatic impact on their experiences because he and she are both so vulnerable at the time they take place. It's not any more unreasonable or unlikely that he may end up in some way scarred from his experience than she may from hers, if they take place in a bad environment.
Taking psychedelics at a party is often about like having intensive psychotherapy on a crowded subway. Both psychedelics and psychotherapy tend to bring about personal, emotional moments that deserve some tender respect and privacy. No one would choose to finally deal with a childhood trauma or their guilt over something they've done in a loud room full of strangers. Of course – it doesn't make any sense, and if attempted it's entirely likely that the experience will make things worse and bury those feelings the patient was struggling to uncover even deeper. I think we all can agree how ludicrous this situation would be. But when we substitute "psychedelic" for "psychotherapist" and the same thing happens, everything changes somehow. It must be that there's something wrong with the drug itself, we conclude. But in reality there are many, many people who benefit from psychedelics and whose stories don't make the gossip circle or the TV news, just as there are countless women who are forever changed for the better the day they give birth.
So why would anyone want to take a psychedelic and be confronted by painful memories anyway? Well, for the same reason anyone would want to have psychotherapy, and even for some of the same reasons they'd want to have a baby, I think. The initial hours of agony in any case are really not the point; the end result in the time that follows is. I tend to think that the agony itself is often a kind of sacrifice, one necessary to make the ecstasy that follows it truly meaningful. But in any event, no one talks endlessly about the day he finally came to terms with some painful issue any more than a mother endlessly talks about the hours she spent in labor. No, the patient talks about his new interests and opportunities now that he's feeling better, and the mother talks about her baby's current goings-on – not about the day the kid got there.
And so it is with a person who takes psychedelics responsibly – anyone who has benefited from them will tell you how much brighter their lives are for the days, months, and even years AFTER a trip, not necessarily during. Not that there's no such thing as a beautiful, happy, peaceful trip – in fact, I should clarify and add that I think beautiful experiences are the norm among people who have some awareness of what they're doing. I can say with confidence that the vast majority of my experiences have been very pleasant both during and after, and even the more turbulent times have ended well and benefited me in one way or another. I definitely don't believe the hellish or “bad” trips are the majority; they're just the subject of the most publicity, and so garner the most attention.
If we ignore the sensationalism surrounding psychedelics and focus instead on these similarities between childbirth and the psychedelic experience, we can see that these drugs give us a way to be reborn, in a pretty literal sense. I believe this is their core purpose, and it comprises the final and most significant similarity between childbirth and the psychedelic experience. After childbirth, if everything goes right, the mother is left with an overwhelming instinct to protect and care for her baby. This is obviously very important if the child his going to survive and flourish. And similarly, after a psychedelic trip, if everything goes right the space cadet is left with renewed self-confidence and interest in nurturing himself. He is left with renewed faith in his abilities, his self-worth, and his goals.
He is now free to look upon himself as a parent looks at a child – with awe, wonder, and unconditional love. Through the psychedelic experience he gives birth to a new incarnation of himself, and by doing so strengthens his resolve to nurture himself, much as a mother cements her instinct to nurture during the process of giving birth. Indeed, this is where the true power of psychedelics lies – they can help us to recognize three very important things: One, that we are each beautiful, special, and have limitless potential for joy; two, that it is our own individual responsibility and no one else's to nurture and protect those qualities in ourselves; and three, that we are completely capable of handling this responsibility. This is how psychedelics allow us to be reborn as our own capable, loving parents – and frequently, as adults.
