I Had Psychedelic Therapy for Dating—the Results Were Liberating

It's been two months since my ketamine-assisted therapy protocol, and the last 21 days have been challenging.

From publicity blunders at work to simple New York walks obstructed by tourists, I fell into a mindset of frustration and victimization when I left for a family trip to help my sister Jenny move homes.

Today, my sister's boyfriend is the fifth member of our family, and of course, I want to provide a safe space for him. But as I helped them move on to the next stage of their life together, I could feel frustration constantly creeping up, and I didn't understand where it came from.

While my sister has a knack for serial monogamy, I have one for serial dating. She seems to crave consistency and love in a relationship, preferring not to be alone.

Perhaps it was being an only child before she was born, but I take pride in my independence. There were a handful of men I could have seen myself with over the years, but for the most part, there were good reasons why we were incompatible and should not pursue next steps.

When I was not in a relationship, I was still convinced that "the one" for me was out there and "my person" was just a swipe or two away.

Now 40, with a lack of wrinkles passed down from my father, I can pass for 30s, and have an extended time frame to "find the one" and "settle down." At least, that's what I've told myself to maintain optimism.

After all, as my spiritual teacher, Helen, said: "You can never be rejected. You're just not a fit."

Here was my little sister, in a relationship and about to purchase real estate like a real adult. When did I become the younger sibling—the stunted adult? Still alone in a small city apartment, and still stuck in a revolving door of dates.

Aside from being more attuned to finding a "life partner" and having entered a higher income bracket, my life hasn't changed much since I was 22.

Of course, I could have ventured out of the city, where property and commitment-oriented men were more abundant. But living outside New York would mean I would no longer be in New York, and that was not desirable to me.

While city life is exhilarating, with its nightly cultural events and topical panels providing endless stimulation and connection, in recent years, I have often found myself returning home at night to my empty apartment and feeling that emptiness within myself.

"Dating in New York is impossible," said many friends over time.

I started to feel like I was riding what I can only call the Manhattan Merry-go-round. When I first hopped up on the horse and held the pole firmly, an appeal and a spark brought a sense of adventure and possibility.

However, after several years of rotations, I realized the animals merely rose and fell, going round and round to the cycling music senselessly.

I had a desire to not be dating but be in a relationship leading to marriage. What was it about me that kept perpetuating this cycle of singledom? Was the problem internal or simply geographical? Could a new form of therapy cure this conflict and lead to a shift within me?

In January 2022, I decided to explore new options to dissociate my ego, alleviate my dating depression, and discover roadblocks that might be in my way.

As someone whose mother was a psychiatric social worker, I believed in mental wellness and already had years of therapy. So, what was I still hiding from myself?

I learned about psychedelic therapy as my client, Nushama, offered a ketamine protocol I studied for nearly a year. However, reading about ketamine is very different from trying ketamine, and I was nervous, not knowing what to expect.

The treatment consisted of six IV ketamine infusions over three weeks. Each journey would start with intention setting and breath work with an integration therapist, move to an IV treatment, return to an integrationist to glean a key insight, and head home to journal.

I would then email my writing to Helen after dark and have a session with her the following morning to further integrate what I learned.

Nearly everyone has experienced trauma, but I realized I was avoiding some of mine. I was bullied in middle school, which I was ashamed of, and never wanted to talk about ever again—not even with Helen.

However, the peacefulness of this new therapeutic experience empowered me to feel comfortable being open about what happened and process it, alleviating my shame.

Was vulnerability what held me back? Was I afraid to be myself for fear that I or someone else would not accept me?

They say everything you want is on the other side of fear, and thankfully, mine started to lift—I suddenly felt more free to be myself. Plus, having a ketamine client intrigued my dates. When men would ask about my work, we started with a deeper connection through subjects like psychedelics and personal growth.

Not only was I dating, but I was making new friends if we weren't romantically compatible. Meeting men was no longer about the result of finding someone to fit into my life plan; it was just about being present for however our relationship took shape.

With a new lens on life, it would still take some time to find my person. I could feel my entire perspective shifting. Most days, I felt more present than ever before.

Friends and colleagues I had known for years suddenly appeared and felt different to me. On dates, with a heightened presence, moments had more space and felt longer.

For this new, extended existence, my vision for a partner was transforming and evolving. I felt a resonance with fewer people, so seeing Jenny and her new boyfriend was inspiring to me.

Perhaps now, feeling more whole, the aspiration of finding my significant other would be more attainable.

If only Jenny and her boyfriend could come back to the city with me, then perhaps I could transport their loving energy and attract more of it into my life.

However, their lives were here, in Connecticut, and tomorrow, I was back to work, so hopping on a train southbound would be senseless. Instead, I said goodbye to them as I piled back into my father's car toward New York City.

They stood in the driveway, waving goodbye, appearing smaller and disappearing little by little. I felt that bright light for them, but soon, it felt far away, dissipating, and that troubled me.

I want and need to get back to that feeling. Instead, I let go and remind myself: You're just starting over. There is life before psychedelic therapy and life after.

Marissa Feinberg is founder and chief storyteller of Triple Bottom Why. She lives in New York City.

All views expressed in this article are the author's own.

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