“Because it would make you miserable.”
“No! Don’t you get it? My misery isn’t the point. I deserve to be miserable. What I really want is for him to be happy, and I know he’d be infinitely happier without me.”
“So you threaten to leave because you think that’s what’s best for him?”
“Exactly. But here’s the problem. I can’t trust him.”
My husband cast his eyes to the heavens.
“He has terrible taste in women,” I continued. “He’s attracted to the neurotic and broken. He specializes in fruitlessly trying to fix the unfixable. I’ll never leave him, because there’s no point in leaving him. He’ll just go out and find someone even crazier than me.” If I died, he probably wouldn’t marry my actress friend, the one to whom I thoughtfully provided comprehensive Ambien-fueled instructions on how to take my place. He wouldn’t be into her, because she has her shit together.
“For God’s sake,” my husband muttered.
The therapist said, “Do you believe him when he says he loves you?”
“Of course! Didn’t you hear what I said? It’s his love that’s the problem! It’s proof of his terrible judgment.” Using the logic of Groucho Marx: “I don’t care to belong to any club that will have me as a member.” Unassailable!
“Say it,” she said. “Tell him you know he loves you.”
I turned to my husband. “I know you love me, even though loving me is a terrible mistake.”
The therapist shook her head. “Just tell him you know he loves you. Leave off the rest of the sentence.”
I tried again. “I know you love me because your problem is that you are only attracted to awful women.”
“Try again.”
“I know you love me, but you shouldn’t.”
“Try again.”
“I know you love me, but I don’t deserve it.”
“Again.”
It took about a dozen attempts before I finally managed, sobbing, to bite off the rest of the sentence and let the five words hang in the air.
“I know you love me.”
My husband’s eyes filled. He pulled me close. I collapsed in his arms, crying so hard I soaked his shirt.
The hour was up.
He cried, he told me after, because it made him so sad to see how hard it was for me to say those five words.
Since then, all day long, I’ve been saying them lightly, almost as a joke.
“I know you love me,” I said in the car coming home from therapy.
“I know you love me,” I said when we walked up the stairs to our porch.
“I know you love me,” I said as we cooked dinner together.
“I know you love me,” I said as we made love.
Every time I said the words, I finished the sentence silently in my head. But maybe that’s just today. Things might look different tomorrow. Tomorrow, after I dose, maybe I won’t need to finish the sentence at all. Or, better yet, maybe “I know you love me” will finally feel like a complete sentence.
Day 16
Microdose Day
Physical Sensations: Stomach upset.
Mood: Tired but good spirits.
Conflict: None.
Sleep: Average.
Work: Productive.
Pain: Some minor pain.
I spent the afternoon with Jim Fadiman in Santa Cruz, at his modest work retreat, a small, unrenovated apartment with a million-dollar view of the Pacific. The surfers were out, bobbing and paddling through the swells, as seagulls pinwheeled through the sky. The view of crashing surf is so compelling that Fadiman has had to turn his desk to face the wall in order to accomplish anything. Maybe I should stop kvetching about feeling claustrophobic facing a wall in my husband’s studio and pretend that I have to sit that way because there is something behind me so breathtakingly beautiful that I could not do a lick of work if I faced the other direction.
Fadiman uses the apartment as a private space to work, away from the distractions of home and, presumably, of his wife of many decades, Dorothy, a documentary filmmaker. Together they have two daughters, both of whom are grown. He speaks of them fondly and with charming paternal pride.
His bookshelves are stuffed with many of the same volumes that I’ve been accumulating in my own psychedelic library: Hofmann’s LSD, My Problem Child, Tom Shroder’s Acid Test, Ram Dass’s Be Here Now, and Henri Michaux’s Miserable Miracle. I wonder if, when his daughters were young, their reactions to the books were the same as my children’s, a puzzled frown, a rolled eye, a sniff that somehow manages to encompass both disgust and curiosity.
In addition to having a similar library, Fadiman drives the same car as I do, a silver Prius—which, to be fair, is the least coincidental of coincidences. We live in the Bay Area. I once parked my car in a row of half a dozen identical ones in the parking lot of my local Whole Foods.*1 Still, same books, same car, same psychedelic interests.
Over Chinese food at his favorite local restaurant, Fadiman told me the story of his life, from the time the government shut down his research and derailed the career for which he had been trained at Harvard and Stanford, until his recent work collecting narratives of microdosing. He is the most companionable of conversationalists. Even when talking about his own life, he makes room for questions and opinions. For a man who does so many interviews and speaks in public so often, he seems uninvested in listening to the sound of his own voice. He asks questions in a nonjudgmental way that encourages confidences. He seems trustworthy and, above all, interested. Though, honestly, how do I really know that? I’ve only interviewed the man a few times. Maybe his daughters complain that he monopolizes the conversation and never evinces any interest in what they have to say. For all I know he might have given them a box of tapes of himself droning on to his therapist about forced collectivization in the Ukraine.
Fadiman told me that when the International Foundation for Advanced Study shut its doors, he began a career as a successful management consultant, working for companies like Lockheed, Dow Chemical, and Foster’s Freeze on human resources issues. He cofounded the Institute of Transpersonal Psychology, now known as Sofia University, focused on integrating concepts of spirituality and transcendence with emotional and personal development. He published textbooks and even a novel. He was invited frequently to lecture on the topic of his early psychedelic research, but he was not part of the psychedelic underground, not a member of any of the groups of sixties “psychonauts” who continued to experiment with various mind-altering drugs. He wrote, he taught, he lectured, and he worked.
And then, in 2008, Fadiman was invited to Chicago to give a lecture about the history of psychedelic research. There he met a woman he refers to as “Madeline,” whose narrative of microdosing he included in The Psychedelic Explorer’s Guide. Madeline worked, took care of her children, was a partner to her spouse, all while consuming tiny doses of LSD. She had been regularly microdosing with LSD for years, taking the drug on average six days out of every month, sometimes more if she was working on “a project requiring extraordinary focus.” Madeline came to microdosing on her own, without guidance, but eventually she learned what Fadiman had already, that Albert Hofmann himself had regularly microdosed for the last decades of his long life.
Fadiman found out about Hofmann’s novel use of the drug from one of his neighbors in Santa Cruz, a man named Robert Forte. According to Forte, Hofmann believed that, had Sandoz Pharmaceuticals been willing, they could have brought to market a version of LSD in a small dose that could have competed with stimulants like Ritalin and Adderall. Imagine a world where frazzled school counselors call parents to say, “Listen, we really think you need to put your kid on LSD.” Terence McKenna, an ethnobotanist and psychedelic lecturer, also reported that Hofmann had informed him that he made a regular practice of microdosing—particularly, Hofmann apparently said, when walking among “tall trees.”*2
After meeting Madeline, Fadiman learned about another individual who was interested
in experimenting with microdosing. It was then that he decided to put together a protocol that would both maximize the safety of the practice and encourage some kind of tracking of experiences. Noticing that people reported that the day after microdosing was often even better than the first day, Fadiman developed the three-day model. The third day, what I call “Normal Day,” is not, Fadiman says, strictly necessary. It does, however, provide a recurring set point to better evaluate the effectiveness of the experience. It also reduces the chances of developing a tolerance to the drug.
There are others who believe there are good reasons for taking a break from regular microdosing. Tim Ferriss, for example, sounds a word of caution about the practice. “There is very rarely a biological free lunch,” he told me. His concern stems from the fact that LSD and other psychedelics are serotonin receptor agonists, meaning they activate serotonin, much as SSRIs such as Prozac do, though the mechanism is different. Ferriss believes that it’s certainly possible that, like SSRIs, low-dose psychedelics can make people feel better, but he worries that they might also have an impact on the brain’s own serotonin production in some as-yet-unanticipated manner. Ferriss’s concern with microdosing is that extended use might cause tolerance to develop and endogenous production of serotonin to be thrown out of whack. However, when I raised this concern with a psychopharmacologist friend, though he agreed that it was possible, he downplayed the risk. This is not, he said, a problem unique to LSD microdosing. David Presti agreed: “Whatever risk there is, is likely to be less than those associated with antidepressant medication use for extended periods of time.” Presti pointed out that there is evidence that over the long term SSRIs themselves actually deplete serotonin, and yet those for whom antidepressants are effective are rarely discouraged from taking them for extended periods. Still, the specter of tolerance and of long-term effects on serotonin production makes Normal Day seem like a good idea, even if it’s my least favorite day of the protocol. And my kids’, although they don’t know why.
Since the 2011 publication of Fadiman’s book, he told me, he has received approximately three hundred requests for his protocol. Of those, he has received back fifty reports of varying length and specificity. The reports have been sent in from all over the world. The majority of people microdose with either LSD or psilocybin, but he’s received reports from people using other psychedelic drugs, including ayahuasca, iboga, and even a plant called Syrian Rue. Fadiman showed me a heaping cardboard box of documents, and said he had another just like it at home in Palo Alto. Some people write long narratives; others create charts and track specific behaviors and characteristics. Some keep elaborate journals. Some, like me, do a combination. Fadiman is not quite sure what to do with all these personal and idiosyncratic reports. It’s difficult to compare the very different documents and the experiences they recount in order to draw any real conclusions. But he’s trying at least to summarize the data.
I asked Fadiman if he had received any reports of negative reactions, either emotional or physical, to microdosing. He told me that, of those who have sent in reports, two people stopped the protocol mid-month, one because of extreme fatigue on Days 2 and 3 (Transition Day and Normal Day), and one because of what Fadiman describes as “an abrupt change in life situation.” He advised two others to stop when they reported negative reactions, and discouraged the experimentation of a person with bipolar disorder and sleep issues. We can’t know what number of the three hundred or so people who solicited the protocol but failed to follow up with a report attempted microdosing. It seems likely to me that at least some might have failed to follow up because they had a bad experience and chose not to continue with the full thirty days.*3
Other than those few negative experiences, the reports Fadiman has received back are overwhelmingly positive. People described a series of benefits, which Fadiman separates into four categories: emotion, intellect, relationships, and physical. Emotional benefits included reductions in anxiety, elevations in mood, increases in equanimity, and feelings of being open, accepting, and happier. Intellectual benefits included improved focus, the ability to sustain creativity for longer stretches, and more effective problem-solving. People reported that their relationships improved. They didn’t have as many conflicts with the people in their lives, and some claimed to be more likable, more popular with colleagues and friends. I found the physical benefits Fadiman collected oddest of all. One woman insisted that her painful, irregular periods became less painful and grew more regular. Some people reported gradually finding themselves more willing to exercise and eat well. When I heard this, I joked to Fadiman that if he were to figure out some way to market the protocol as a weight loss tool he’d never have to worry about money again. Too bad I’ve not experienced that effect myself. I’m not exercising any more than before—though, come to think of it, I’m not indulging as often as usual in things like Dolly’s Naughty Cream doughnuts. Perhaps that’s because of the slight stimulating effects of the microdose, though that wouldn’t explain why this effect sustains through Transition Day and Normal Day. However it’s working, I’m eating fewer doughnuts though I’m managing to maintain my muffin top.
There were other unusual results reported to Fadiman. One individual claimed to have quit smoking after a five-year pack-a-day habit. Six cycles of the protocol was all it took, and the positive behavior sustained for eight months and counting. Another stopped smoking marijuana. Three stopped using Adderall. An individual with Parkinson’s disease reported that, though symptoms of the disease continued unabated, the person felt much less depressed than before attempting the protocol. Someone else passed a driver’s test after failing twice before. A stutterer experienced gradual but noticeable alleviation of symptoms. Most of all, a lot of people had a lot of really good days.
Fadiman considers his project to be a form of crowd-sourced field research, similar to a Phase Two clinical study, attempting to determine if the drug at this dose level provides any benefits. But what’s missing, of course, is a Phase One clinical study, to assess safety. Fadiman feels that the established safety of LSD and psilocybin at much more significant doses makes this less of a concern. I’m conservative and anxious by nature, and though I’m not worried enough not to do the experiment (or perhaps it’s better to say that I’m desperate enough to do it), I’m still not entirely comfortable. Furthermore, especially given the lack of controls, it’s possible that all these reports prove for certain is the power of the placebo effect. I wish I could participate in a formal double-blind control-group study, not this ad-hoc crowd-sourced experience.*4
Fadiman is eager for formal medical and psychiatric research into microdosing, both with psilocybin and with LSD. He has recently been contacted by two individuals, one in Australia and one in Europe, who seek to carry out just this research. The Australian, a graduate student, wants simply to systematize the same kind of self-reporting that Fadiman is doing, with people following a common reporting system, though still sourcing their own drugs and operating independently of clinical supervision. The student cannot, he says, get governmental permission for anything else. The European researcher, however, plans a formalized clinical study of the possible benefits of microdosing, using a double-blind model with a control group. This researcher believes that the current European resurgence of interest in psychedelic research makes approval likely.
Some American scientists with whom I spoke doubt the likelihood of having such a study approved in the United States. The FDA would be troubled, they say, by any such study’s “ambulatory” nature. They don’t believe that an institution would be willing to seek approval for a study that dosed participants with a Schedule I substance and then sent them out into the world effectively under the influence. Other American scientists, however, disagree. They point out that researchers send people out into the world dosed with medications that we know compromise their abilities to function in all sorts of ways. We give people high doses of opioids, for example, sometimes sending them home with
supplies of the drugs to self-administer. Furthermore, were that the only issue, an inpatient study could easily be crafted. These scientists believe that, given the success of the psilocybin studies at UCLA, NYU, and Johns Hopkins, it is possible, even likely, that we will see a microdosing study in the future. I hope so, and I hope my family history and my own ad-hoc experiment don’t preclude my participation.
The psychedelic researchers I interviewed expressed more interest in how microdosing can increase functioning and well-being in healthy people than in its potential antidepressant benefits. Their curiosity has been piqued by reports of Silicon Valley executives and engineers who have started microdosing as a way to improve productivity and encourage creative thinking at work. Microdosing has become something of a performance-enhancing mini-trend in the tech world, enough of one to justify an inundation of articles in magazines and online extolling its virtues.*5 According to Rolling Stone magazine, the typical microdoser is not, in fact, a middle-aged mom of four hoping to be less of a raging bitch, but an “übersmart twentysomething curious to see whether microdosing will help him or her work through technical problems and become more innovative.”*6
Users have begun to embrace microdosing as an alternative to the cognitive-enhancing drugs that are ubiquitous on college campuses and in Silicon Valley.*7 Stimulants such as Ritalin, Adderall, and modafinil are popular because they do in fact increase productivity and focus. However, they’ve been linked to decreases in neuroplasticity, likely as a result of the way they flood neural networks with dopamine, glutamate, and norepinephrine. Psychedelics enhance neuroplasticity, which makes them a compelling alternative. According to one of Rolling Stone’s übersmart twentysomething microdosers, “Microdosing has helped me come up with some new designs to explore and new ways of thinking.”
Hey, I was a techbro all along, and just didn’t know it! Next time you see me, I’ll be wearing a hoodie, sipping a steaming mug of “bulletproof butter coffee,” and railing about the gross homeless dude pissing in the doorway of my four-and-a-half-million-dollar condo in the Mission.
A Really Good Day Page 12
