Citation: J. "Dark Night of the Soul: Rolling as a Couple: An Experience with LSD & MDMA (exp116890)". Erowid.org. Dec 27, 2022. erowid.org/exp/116890
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Somewhat spontaneously, my girlfriend (26) and I (23 M) decided to candy flip. Going into this experience, I had subconscious expectations that we would hit a difficult patch. Several weeks earlier, we went through a challenging time as a couple related to things like trust and boundaries.
We dosed with 1 tab of LSD ~7:30pm. We spent the next hour looking at some art books. After ~1 hour, she says the LSD isn't as strong as she likes so we take another tab. We continue looking at art books until ~9:30pm when we dose 80 mg MDMA (I weighed and capsuled prior to this experience).
We are on the floor and she sits in my lap. We are embracing. We begin talking about heavy things like pain and trauma.
She asks me, "Do you ever feel like something's been taken from you?"
After thinking for a moment, I say, "Yes. What's been taken from you?"
There is weighted silence.
I ask her what time she’s talking about. She begins crying and says she doesn’t want to talk about it. I ask her to tell me, offering that it might help her feel better. She is visibly very upset and refuses. I apologize for pressing her, saying that I was ready for a bigger therapeutic moment and that I shouldn’t have pushed it. She still seems in pain but tells me it’s okay. We are crying together and embracing tightly. At this point she has covered her face with her blanket.
At different points she says things like:
“There are some things that hurt and I think they always will.”
“I don’t know why I still let them hurt me. They happened so long ago. They can’t hurt me anymore.”
“I wish I had more concrete answers.” – to my questions about her pain.
I ask her if she wants to meditate with me. She asks, “How?”
I sit upright with my legs crossed:
“First, I start by focusing my attention to my breath. Not trying to direct it, but just noticing it.”
I am shuddering as I speak because I have been crying with her.
“Like right now, my breath is heavy and that’s okay. And if thoughts come up, I can just let them go. Even if it seems really big and important, I don’t have to engage with it. I can come back to it later.
I’m noticing sensations in my body. I’m seated. My hands are together. My breathing has slowed. I’m relaxing. Now I’m just focused on how good it feels to breathe.”
I turn to find her still lying down, but she has removed the covers from her face. I’m surprised to see that she is still lying down because as we were meditating, I felt that she was sitting up next to me. I interpreted this as feeling her strength.
I ask her to sit up with me, that it might help to oxygenate her body. She is very dizzy at first but sits up. I ask her how she is feeling and she says better, that it wasn’t as scary as last time (she had a difficult trip).
“Even though these difficult experiences are painful, I know I am better off afterwards.”
She seems concerned and asks, “Was it difficult?”
“Parts of it.” We are both fine with acknowledging that.
She asks me if the trip is really different every time. When we trip together (and with our roommates), we usually set intentions. Mine is almost always to ‘see what the drug brings’ or to be open to whatever experience comes up.
I say, “Yes. Sometimes I know what is going to come up. Sometimes it’s stuff I’m thinking about, sometimes it’s stuff I’m avoiding thinking about. But the drug has a way of making its own character of the experience.”
I look at her, smirking and say, “I knew I could do that with you.”
“See the dark night of the soul.”
At this point we are both feeling much better. We have a long conversation about connectedness, communication, and honesty.
Moving to the floor now, we talk about so many things.
Old friends past (we met as teenagers).
Pain. I tell her I think of Michael Jackson when I think of trauma and pain. “Strange existence. Tormented. A star. Shined so bright among so many people. He may have done bad things, though. I think he’s probably happier now.”
I tell her that I can’t believe the meditation worked! I have read so much about it as a neuro major and known it was a technique used in psychedelic therapy (I work in the field). She agrees that it was very strategic.
When we start to feel the anti-climax, I check the time and I'm shocked to see that this all happened in only 4 hours.
On the comedown, we watch an ocean documentary on mute. We make funny commentary and enjoy the colorful, beautiful, and sometimes scary images. I did not sleep that night. She told me she felt surprisingly great and actually went to work the next morning.
- I’m feeling ready to move forward with openness, honesty, and strength as a team and as individuals.
- Respecting her boundaries when talking about painful memories.
- Meditation is vital. I’m looking forward to practicing it with her.
- I need to reach out to people and tell them I love them.
- Ego is getting in the way of important things. Forgiveness. Healing. Enjoying life.
- Moving forward knowing I will not feel the ‘ecstasy’ I felt during the experience, but use the knowledge that I gained and healing energy that I felt.
- I am not done growing, but I am on a much better path.
- Things can’t un-happen. Healing doesn’t mean hitting the reset button—it means working with pain.
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Experience Reports are the writings and opinions of the individual authors who submit them.
Some of the activities described are dangerous and/or illegal and none are recommended by Erowid Center.