I Tried Psychedelic Therapy, and It Changed Everything

By Anastasiya

I never really saw myself as someone who’d end up at a psychedelic retreat. My version of self-care was more along the lines of walking in nature or curling up with a cup of tea. But over time, I kept meeting women who had done plant medicine, ayahuasca, mushrooms, and something in them had clearly shifted. They came back different. Stronger. Softer. It was like something heavy had finally been lifted.

Meanwhile, I was carrying something very heavy of my own. I had been living with an intense emotional burden connected to the war, to what I had seen, heard, and experienced as both a Ukrainian and an interpreter working closely with refugees. That grief had built up in my body. I felt like I was always in survival mode. It wasn’t just emotional. It was physical. Certain voices, languages, even smells would trigger something deep inside me. It was exhausting.

When I heard that Dr Aileen Alegado was running a psychedelic retreat, something clicked. I had seen her own transformation, and I completely trusted her. She explained how the process worked, how safe and supportive it was, and what to expect. She helped me understand that this kind of medicine wasn’t physically harsh or overwhelming. For the first time, I felt ready. Not just curious, ready.

First Impressions

When I arrived, I’ll be honest, my first thought was, this is too fancy. I was expecting something more basic. This place had private rooms, daily room service, a pool, three meals a day. But as the days went on, I realised how much the comfort actually helped. It gave me space to just focus on what I came for, without needing to plan anything or take care of anyone.

The days were gentle but intentional. Morning movement sessions, journaling, silent time, group circles. On some days, massages or beach visits. On ceremony days, things slowed down. A light breakfast, quiet time, and then we entered the space together.

The Journey

I don’t really have the words to fully describe what happened in the ceremony. But it cracked something open in me. I felt like I died and came back in the same breath. Waves of grief, memory, and emotion moved through me. At one point I was crying so deeply it felt ancient.

And then something unexpected happened. That emotional weight I had carried for years, rooted in the trauma of war and everything connected to it, was just gone. Not slightly better. Not managed. Gone. It felt like walking past a campfire that had burned out long ago. I could still remember the heat, but it had no hold on me anymore.

Coming Home

After the retreat, I travelled to Ukraine. I was surprised at how different everything felt. Instead of absorbing everyone’s grief, I was able to feel their strength. I could finally take it in. That space inside me, once filled with pain, was now open and ready for something else.

Back at home, I noticed other shifts too. I was no longer scanning rooms, no longer bracing myself for emotional impact. My eating and drinking habits changed on their own. I slept better. My anxiety softened. I wasn’t gripping onto things so tightly anymore.

In my relationship, I became more accepting, less controlling. It took my partner a while to notice, but we now spend time together in a different way, lighter, calmer. At work, I made the difficult decision to walk away from some toxic relationships. It still hurts, but I know it was the right choice.

And within myself, something else shifted. With the outer layers stripped away, I began to see parts of myself I hadn’t wanted to look at. I still have work to do, but at least now I can see it clearly, without the fog.

Was It Worth It?

A hundred times yes. I went in with one clear intention, and it was fulfilled completely. But I also came home softer, more open, more trusting of life in general. I stopped trying to control everything and started letting things flow a little more.

Would I recommend it? Absolutely. In fact, I think it should be mandatory. Especially for the world’s assholes. Road ragers, people who clap when the plane lands, the guy who cuts in front of you at the café queue, sit them down with a mushroom and a journal and let’s see what happens.

Because here’s the thing, psychedelic therapy isn’t about escaping reality. It’s about facing yourself, really facing yourself, and finally putting down what you’ve been carrying. For me, that meant saying goodbye to years of tension. And for the first time in a long time, I actually feel free.