Healing in Layers — Part 1: The MDMA Ceremony That Reset My Life

This year has been a profound journey, and to be honest, I don’t even know how I can articulate it all in words. They say someone else’s darkness can lead you into your greatest gifts… well, I have come to believe that.

I’m sharing this now because I’m finally strong enough to tell the truth — not the curated version, but the real one that almost broke me. I’ve held this story in my body for years, and it’s time to stop hiding and start healing out loud.

I’ve been on my healing journey for over a decade, dabbling in many different healing modalities. But over the last two years, I felt like I was drowning in my own body. Things got really dark after I had my stroke. The thoughts of suicide came frequently. I hated myself and was starting to resent my family. For most of my life, I always gave to others; but this was my first time needing to receive — and to be honest, it felt quite foreign.

For the last decade, traumatic events and the rollercoaster of life were very present and active in our lives. I felt like I was trying to swim to the top to get a breath, and I would be slammed down again. I was suffocating, but I still managed to keep going. To everyone, I had strength. I was strong and resilient. But that was a lie. I was merely surviving — barely surviving.

I started packing on the weight. I was depressed. I was losing myself day by day.

This is something I don’t talk much about because honestly, I was embarrassed. But I was also living with a spouse who struggled with his own mental health and addictions for over a decade. This was the hardest part of it all — feeling like I was alone, tackling the world. Though my life has brought me much joy and it wasn’t all bad, these traumatic events eventually build up in your nervous system and you start to shut down.

There was love. There were happy days. There were moments when we were really good together. I want to be clear about that. He has his own heavy story, just like I have mine, and we both did the best we could with what we had. But even with love and good memories, addiction takes a toll on everyone involved. Two truths can exist at once — we cared for each other, and it was still incredibly hard.

It wasn’t until this April — his last relapse — that I received my greatest gift. I found my power to go to Cuba on my own with the kids. Was it hard? Yes. Did I miss him? Yes. Did we cry? Yes. Did we have fun? Yes. But this is where I had a glimpse of who I truly was as a person. Not fully — just a glimpse.

And this trip was also where something clicked deep inside me:
I chose healing because I refuse to pass this pain on to my kids.
The cycle ends with me.

I can’t speak for anyone who struggles with mental health or addictions; I speak solely from my own lens. And having lived around drugs all my life, it’s a very hard road to sit and watch from the sidelines. To watch someone you love be torn apart by using is one of the hardest things to witness.

I thought I had to fix everyone around me who was struggling, but truth be told… I had to help myself.

I came to the realization that I was no longer happy living the way I was living. My children deserved a happy mother, my community deserved someone who could give at 100%, and I deserved to be fully me.

Choosing myself wasn’t easy — it was terrifying. But staying the same was killing me.

I knew I needed help.
Talk therapy never worked for me.
I tried shamanic healing, somatic work, yoga, QHHT — you name it, I tried it.
It all helped to a certain degree, but it was surface-level.

For years, I had been researching MDMA therapy and psilocybin therapy for people who struggled with PTSD and depression. I’ve watched hours of documentaries. But my fear of using “drugs” stopped me from being open. I’ve seen dozens of friends, family, and people I love struggle and lose everything. I have lost three cousins in the past few years to drugs and mental health — and that kind of pain is something you just can’t shake off.

It scared the honest fuck out of me.

I came across a facilitator here in Edmonton who offered these services, and I reached out. I knew deep down if I didn’t try something, I was going to give up and end my life. I couldn’t keep doing what I was doing anymore.

We talked for over an hour, and she answered every concern I had. I took the leap of faith and booked a private MDMA ceremony with her.

She got me booked within two weeks. I had absolutely nothing to lose — only to gain.

Those two weeks before the session, I was stressed. So much was going on, and I just needed to be open and surrender.

She arrived at my house, and we set up a beautiful altar, opened sacred space, pulled a few oracle messages, and then I took the MDMA. Within 30 minutes or so, I was on my journey.

She had a beautiful curated playlist, headphones, and an eye mask. She sat beside me for the entire session. I could feel the medicine all over my body — this light sensation of warmth — and it felt extremely peaceful. My body, my nervous system, and my mind hadn’t felt this way in a very long time… maybe ever.

For over 5.5 hours, I talked about my life, the things I wanted, my children, the pain I’d been carrying. I let it all go. She wrote out 12 pages of notes from our session. There were moments I felt happy and safe, and then moments where I transitioned into releasing trapped energy and crying. She was there to sage me when I needed it and cover me in blankets. I was in full receive mode.

As I slowly came out of the session, I felt light and calm. She tucked my “baby” teddy under my arms for protection. We shared a light snack, and then she left.

I had 48 hours of integration post-MDMA. I waited for a crash to come, but it didn’t.

My whole evening felt beautiful. I journaled. I reflected. I danced half-naked in the kitchen while cooking. I watched feel-good movies. I slept deeply.

My body felt like a completely new person — fully transformed.
My nervous system felt like someone hit a reset button and gave me a chance to start over.

For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m living from my body instead of fighting against it. I’m softer now. More grounded. More aware of what I deserve.

And I didn’t rise alone — the right people showed up at the exact right moments. For that, I will forever be grateful.

I can honestly say: this saved my life.

This was the beginning of my true healing journey. I will share more about my psilocybin and ayahuasca journeys soon.

It can be hard being truly vulnerable and allowing yourself to be open. However, I am forever grateful for the people who shared their stories with me — because their openness helped me find myself and save my own life.

So if someone is reading this and any of it resonates… please reach out. I am an open book. Healing isn’t easy. Sharing isn’t easy. But if I can help save even one person… this is why I do what I do.

Thank you to everyone who has been supporting me on this journey. So much has changed in a very short time. I am fully in integration mode.

I’m still healing, but I’m no longer drowning.
I’m here. I made it. And I’m not going back.

Real. Raw. Rising.

Thank you for reading my truth. Sharing this wasn’t easy, but staying silent was heavier. If any part of my story resonates with you, please know you’re not alone. I can’t offer medical advice, but I can share my lived experience and hold space for conversation if your heart needs it.

Healing in Layers — Part 2: The Psilocybin Journey That Took Me Deeper
Coming soon.

Disclaimer: I am not a medical professional. This is my personal experience. I do not and will not advise anyone to use any medicines or substances. I’m simply sharing my own journey.