How I found my own way out of my postpartum depression by microdosing psychedelic mushrooms
By Julie Ugleholdt
I did not kill myself, but I felt close to death. All my daily problems felt so small and meaningless. I was not in a hurry! I did not have to conform and follow the path of society. My life belonged to me and no one else! I felt so FREE. The depression had opened up my eyes for what really matters.
Career. Money. Control.
Before I gave birth to my daughter I worked as a consultant in the biggest IT company in Denmark. I was eagerly climbing the corporate ladder. No one could stop me. I wanted to become a Senior Vice President before I turned 35.
Motherhood was just another small bump on the way in my life plan. I had the perfect job, the perfect life, the perfect husband, and I just needed the perfect child in order to complete the illusion about myself.
The child came. It was the 2nd of February 2017. My first-born daughter Charlie had arrived in my life. But everything was far from perfect. The well-planned birth did not go as expected. After being in labor for 30 hours, there was still no sight of Charlie. Why didn’t she come? What was wrong with my body? Why could I not give birth to my daughter?
The doctors took some test of my daughter to see if she was all right. She wasn’t. Her pulse went from 50 to 180 during every contraction. The doctors went silent. Nobody looked me in the eyes. A doctor said: “You need to get a c-section before the situation gets any worse!” Any worse? I began to be afraid. Would I lose my daughter before she was even here? They drove me to surgery and out came a lifeless little girl. I remember lying on the table, not being able to move or talk. When the doctor took out my quiet daughter, the surgery team’s focus shifted from me to another place in the room. I had no idea if she was dead or alive. The expression in my husband’s eyes was the only thing visible to me. The sight of fear. The doctors were providing Charlie oxygen and massaging her small limbs to make life run through her body. She made it, but the shock dwelled in my body.
Hello, I am your postpartum depression!
When we got home from the hospital, I was not happy. Not sad. Just empty. I felt so flawed. My expectation of motherhood had already burst. I was disappointed in myself. Not being able to perform as a woman, by giving birth to my child. I was happy to get home and digest the overwhelming experience of Charlie's birth. Or so I thought. Just a week in, Charlie started crying all day and night. She was diagnosed with colic. The unstoppable crying continued for months. I was desperate to make it stop.
All day, every day, I walked around with my crying daughter trying to comfort her. I never slept for more than a few hours each night. I never ate or changed my clothes. I was so afraid that Charlie would start her attack, so I stopped leaving the house.
“In isolation, the depression slowly crept up on me. But I suppressed my feelings, I had no time to deal with them, I just had to survive the colic.”
Three months after Charlie was born, the crying stopped. Suddenly she started smiling and laughing like a normal little girl. But the smile had been wiped away from my face. The sleepless nights continued even though she did not feel pain anymore. It was like her system was still affected by everything that had happened. All the emotions, that I had suppressed suddenly found their way to the surface. I broke completely. I did not want to be a mother any more. My body was desperate for sleep and rest. But my ability to sleep had completely disappeared along with my appetite and my social life. It all felt meaningless. There was no point in moving forward.
Suicide: My only way out
When I walked around Copenhagen with the stroller I started to imagine how I would walk out in front of a truck. If I was lucky I would break an arm, or perhaps both legs. Then somebody else would have to take care of my daughter for me. I just wanted to get away from it all. Far far away. The comfort of the hospital bed felt appealing. The thoughts of self-harm slowly developed into suicidal scenarios.
“Everywhere I looked I became inspired by new ways of taking my own life. When I was in my bedroom I imagined how I could strangle myself with the curtains. I started assessing the kitchen knives for the best candidate to slit my wrists. At my darkest moment, I cried out for a gun to shoot myself in the head.”
I wanted out of my life. It was ruined.
The functions of my body started to shut down. The day where I went to the psychiatric hospital I was suddenly unable to read. My husband had to show me where to sign and explained what I was signing when going through the papers with the psychologist that was assessing me. She offered me to talk to a psychiatrist, so I could get antidepressants. But I didn’t want it. I was too afraid of what would happen to me if I started taking the pills. As a side effect, I could experience an increase in suicidal thoughts for six weeks after I started taking them. Getting worse was not an option for me. I was too afraid that I would finally kill myself.
Microdosing Magic Mushrooms
My husband helped me search for alternatives. He found loads of articles of researchers that started treating depression by microdosing psychedelic mushrooms. Their results were outstanding. He also found blogs from people who anonymously was self-medicating with the mushrooms. I had never tried to take psychedelics, and I honestly thought that those types of drugs were not for me. But I didn’t really care. I was desperate to get better, and the psychedelic mushrooms seemed like a better option than the pills. On the day of the first microdose, I was nervous, that I wouldn’t be able to take care of my child whilst being on mushrooms? Would I start to hallucinate? Would I be able to control my body?
My husband was with me and helped me set it up. From what we read I had to take 0,1 grams (1/20 of a full trip) in the morning coffee every third day. We first chopped the shroom, so I would get a little bit of everything.
“I drank the mushrooms, and nothing really happened. I just felt I bit warmer inside and I could feel my body twirl. I felt nice. I felt calm and relaxed. That day I smiled for the first time for as long as I could remember.”
I started singing children’s songs to Charlie, and I actually enjoyed being with her. After a short period, my negative thoughts disappeared. It was like someone had put a lid on them. I suddenly had the energy to get outside the house and do things that would make me happy. Like yoga, winter bathing and mediation. I also changed my diet to a healthier and vegan style.
After two months I felt so good that I began to forget to take the mushrooms and after three months I quit the microdosing. From here I could make do with therapy and yoga. I wasn’t cured of my depression, but I was on the right track of getting back to myself. My life had meaning again, and hope came.
A fresh start.
My experience with depression and microdosing put things in perspective. It was like a gift for me to see my life in a new way. Why was I so eager to climb the corporate latter? Why was I in such a rush? Why was I so keen on fitting into the life/work-model, that society had dictated for all of us? I was free to do whatever I wanted to do. I could be anyone I wanted to be. I decided to take a chance and publish my first book: Project Baby. It had always been a dream of mine and nothing could stop me from following my dreams.
Microdosing also changed me. First of all, it felt amazing to have found my own way out of the depression. I followed my intuition and said no to pills and yes to an illegal drug, but It was definitely the right decision for me to choose. I dared to do what felt right to me and to be true to myself. But physically, the shrooms also changed my mood and attitude. I was a more positive and calm Julie. I got more and more drawn to nature and I felt connected to the world in a way that I had never felt.
Today I am actually thankful for my postpartum depression. I needed to break before I could grow.
