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“Self-care is one of the basic principles in psychology. The non-aviation equivalent of putting your own oxygen mask on before trying to help anyone else. I’ve worked with a few therapists before you, but I’ve always resisted letting them in beyond a certain point. This time… it’s turned out different.”
“Different good or different bad?”
“Good,” Liisa says. “I must admit I was very skeptical of the whole idea of using psychedelics in therapy. I wasn’t a believer.”
“But you came here anyway,” Holly says.
“I was desperate. I’d tried everything else. From hypnosis to anesthetic detox. But I was still a slave to Xanax. I couldn’t sleep without one. Or, for that matter, get through a day without a pill or two.” Liisa shakes her head. “Who am I kidding? I couldn’t make it to lunchtime.”
“And now?”
“I haven’t swallowed a single pill since you put us under dual therapy.”
Holly flushes with satisfaction. Validation, too. All the risk she assumed in pushing the envelope with dual therapy seems worthwhile knowing that the last holdout in the group has reached sobriety. But all Holly says is “Does that make you more of a believer in psychedelics, Liisa?”
“I’m getting there, yes.”
Holly can tell from her frown that there has to be a caveat. “But?”
“When something seems to be too good to be true…”
“I’ve thought the same, too. Psychedelics do have side effects. Plenty of them. You’ve seen the dysphoric reactions in our group.” Holly can’t help but think of Elaine, and it dampens her mood. “And some of those experiences… the trips… they can’t be unseen.”
“I guess nothing is perfect. In truth, all drugs are poisons.”
For the first time since meeting her, Holly feels a real connection with her colleague. And she senses the opportunity to dig deeper. “Can we talk a bit more about your mother?”
Liisa sighs. “All roads lead back to childhood, huh?”
“Not always, no. But as we both know, childhood trauma is the single biggest risk factor for adulthood addiction.”
“True.”
“Do you remember much about her?”
Liisa looks down. “Hardly anything. She died a few weeks after I turned four. A massive blood clot during childbirth. Technically, the day after. I never saw her again after she went to the hospital.” Her voice drops. “I lost a mother and gained a baby sister.”
“That must have turned your world upside down.”
Liisa shakes her head. “I don’t really remember any of it.”
“Your sister’s arrival?”
“My mother,” Liisa says. “I’ve seen photos, of course. But it wasn’t until I took the dual psychedelics that I recalled any real memories of her.”
“How did you respond to those memories?”
“They were…” Liisa clears her throat. “Kind of liberating.”
“You felt her love?”
Liisa only shrugs.
“OK. What about your dad?”
“It was tough for him. Freshly widowed with a baby and a toddler at home. And still working long hours in the physics lab at UC Santa Cruz. With an hour commute each way from our home in Monterey. Being Finnish to the core, my father just ignored the grief. To this day, he still doesn’t speak of my mother’s death.”
“How would you describe childhood without a mom?”
