Last spring, I found myself in the surreal position of taking enormous doses of so-called magic mushrooms with a group of women I’d known for less than 48 hours.
We were in the Netherlands where, unlike the UK, magic mushrooms are legal if they’re taken in truffle form. But we weren’t prepping for a hedonistic night out. Instead of downing negronis, shimmying into sequins and hitting the dancefloor, we were utterly sober, dressed in leisurewear and lying prone on gym mats.
For our consumption of frankly mind-blowing amounts of psychedelics was done for one purpose only – therapy, and specifically to find for ourselves a new path in life. And for a directionless 51-year-old divorcee like me, it was a revelation. Simultaneously brutal and joyful, it was one of the most meaningful experiences I’ve ever had.
The claims are big for ‘psychedelic-assisted therapy’, as it’s called.
The idea is that it supercharges conventional psychotherapy by opening up the deepest recesses of the mind, so facilitating psychological exploration and growth. Various hallucinogens are used by practitioners: for me, it was psilocybin, the active ingredient in magic mushrooms, but there are other psychedelics like the South American brew ayahuasca, and the cactus San Pedro.
Despite being illegal in the UK, therapy using psychoactives is booming in countries such as the Netherlands. And, in my experience, it’s forging a whole new following among middle-class women of a certain age, who are using it to get over the humps of midlife.
‘Therapy using psychoactives is forging a whole new following among middle-class women of a certain age, who are using it to get over the humps of midlife,’ writes Helen Jones
When I started getting divorced in 2020, aged 47, I realised my identity had been eroded by marriage, motherhood and menopause. Life had become demanding but ‘samey’, like being bounced around in an endless game of pinball. Dissatisfied and lost, I couldn’t stop my 13-year marriage from crumbling into an unsalvageable mess, while my child hacked away at the apron strings as an increasingly independent teen. It was a powerful combination that saw me both question my purpose in life and be jolted free of the fog of midlife.
A low semi-permanent hum of menopausal anger and ennui began to take hold and I felt an almost self-destructive urge to shake things up. Post-divorce, that started with me. Having thrown myself into dating, I realised I was finding fault with every man I met (most justified, some not) and avoiding any kind of deeper connection. My head spun with questions: why had my 13-year marriage failed? Was I a good enough mother? Why did I find relationships so hard?
A date – ironically – told me about psychedelic retreats and how effective they were at helping to explore deep-rooted issues. It didn’t work out with him, but his idea left an impact. I dug around a bit, and for every scare story I found, there were hundreds more tales of life-affirming experiences. So, in May, I took the plunge. With a bellyful of anxiety and thrill, I headed to the Venwoude retreat, ten miles north of Utrecht, for a five-day stay. Would I fry my brain or find buried within it the answers to my questions? Would I lose myself and come back a different person – and would that be good or, well, very bad indeed?
The eight other women on the retreat were there for a variety of reasons: calming the symptoms of ADHD, stemming anxiety, healing old wounds. For me, it was all about dealing with my menopausal rage and finding new ways to deal with relationships: the old, fractured ones; the draining, one-way friendships; those tainted by a lack of trust. And, of course, the new ones I very much wanted in the future.
At psilocybin retreats, magic mushrooms are called ‘medicine’, but the ‘caregivers’ administering them – chopped up and mixed with warm water, lemon juice and honey, to be eaten with a spoon – are wearing flowy white dresses, not white coats. And the quantities are large, a world away from the light giggly drop of ‘shroom juice’ currently the hottest thing at London dinner parties.
I was given four grammes, not much less than the maximum dose allowable of five. This is not an amount you can easily ‘come down from’ when friends pop you in an Uber home, and it’s why you need experienced people around you. I had five ‘facilitators’: a medically-trained doctor, a ‘somatic therapist’ (someone who explores how emotions affect the body), a musician, yoga instructor and a shaman. Thankfully, nothing fazed them and their kindness was limitless.
In our ceremonies (the name given to what we might otherwise call a ‘trip’), which lasted between six to eight hours, we were encouraged to stay on or near our mats and not to interact with other participants. Even admiring nature was seen as ‘avoidance’, a distraction from the deep therapy work that could otherwise take place.
It was not for the faint-hearted, however. One participant thought she was dying during her ceremony. Another thought she was giving birth. We all cried buckets of tears.
My ceremony began with the sensation of sinking, as though I was falling down a holographic lift shaft. It wasn’t frightening – until I hit the bottom . . . and I suddenly found all my old ‘demons’ – all the upset from my past, waiting for me. It was awful.
And then something quite extraordinary happened.
A few months before the retreat, I’d reconnected with an ex who’d ditched me 30 years before for a trip to Australia. We started seeing each other again, but I remained wary, finding proclamations like ‘I thought about you all the time’ hard to swallow. Yet now, as I lay there in Utrecht with my mind metaphorically – and possibly literally – blown, he seemed to visit me. He came, he said, to rescue me. As I stared down the ‘monsters’ in my head, he told me that I needn’t worry about my past because we had a bright future together.
It felt like an epiphany – the clearest sign that I could trust him.
Facing those demons was a terrifying but important moment that helped me reconcile my past. Once my new partner had rescued me, I seemed to soar to what I can only describe as a celestial plane, where I ‘burst’ with joy. Everything became so pure and simple and trouble-free that I laughed hysterically at the ridiculousness of everyday concerns.
That night, when I got back to my room, still high and surrounded by walls of pulsating diamonds, I sent my partner a message. A fluffy, squishy, out-of-character message that I thought I’d regret the next day. Yet I woke up full of optimism, aware that by ditching my cynicism, I was giving the relationship a chance.
Even though, during the ceremony, I got a momentary taste of nirvana, I wouldn’t call my journey ‘fun’. It was really hard, intense work. The days that followed included one-on-one and group sessions designed to help us begin processing our experiences through talking about them. But I came out of it unburdened, lighter, renewed . . . happier.
The psychedelic market is largely fuelled by word-of-mouth. Again, despite its illegality in many countries, it’s expected to be worth £7 billion by 2033, up from £2.3 billion last year. The largest marketplace for retreats – Retreat Guru – has seen a six-fold increase in the number of psychedelic retreats offered through its business in five years. Data regarding how much demand is driven by midlife women does not exist, but Cameron Wenaus, Retreat Guru’s CEO and co-founder says, ‘Middle-age women are the main market for spiritual and learning retreats, so it would stand to reason it would be the same for psychedelics.’
Which by turn explains why women-only trips, pun intended, are a booming product. According to Psilocybin Access Rights (PAR), which campaigns for psilocybin to be made available in the UK, more operators are launching female psilocybin retreats in countries such as The Netherlands and Jamaica, where it is completely legal.
‘It was not for the faint-hearted. One participant thought she was dying during her ceremony (the name given to what we might otherwise call a “trip”). Another thought she was giving birth. We all cried buckets of tears’
Psychedelic facilitator and mental health nurse Joann Mallett agrees that women are increasingly drawn to female-only groups led by women. ‘While mixed-sex groups can also offer powerful insights, many women seek the unique comfort of a women-only setting, particularly for their first experience. This desire for safety and support is especially significant during transitional phases in life [such as menopause], where the need for understanding, vulnerability and openness is paramount.’
On a more basic level, you can understand why a group of people high on magic truffles might not want the complication of potential sexual attraction, or unwanted attention, thrown into the already edgy mix.
When I returned home, I was delicate. My brain felt scrambled as though it was almost literally rewiring itself. Indeed, it probably was. Scientific studies have shown that psilocybin causes changes in ‘functional connectivity’ in the brain, with the largest involved in what’s called the ‘default mode network’, which is thought to govern people’s sense of space, time,and self.
Sometimes, a simple task like spreading peanut butter on toast could feel challenging. But I was also serene. Nothing could bother me, not even the usual Heathrow kerfuffle when I landed.
After a week or two, I recovered from the initial rawness and felt completely re-energised. My relationship was thriving but I also wanted to chat to and smile at everyone; to share my newfound openness with the world. I found the spring sunshine and nature a source of energy. I began cycling faster – and more joyfully.
I also got a delicious taste of what I’d describe as mental freedom, finally knowing what it was to silence the critical inner voice I’d lived with for decades. In fact, the self-criticism had become so pervasive it was only when it disappeared that I truly recognised it for what it was.
My insecurities seemed pointless, even laughable. I became kinder to myself, easing up on self-imposed diktats. I experienced a surge in creativity. Working on the first draft of a novel, the plot started slotting together like a jigsaw, almost as if the new connections in my brain were connecting the different parts of my story. And I learned not to get my knickers in such a twist about annoyances like menopausal malaise, and South Western Railways’ habit of cancelling trains without warning.
Another unexpected benefit of my retreat was the supportive friendships that grew from it. Baring your soul while taking vast doses of psychedelics creates a different type of bond. Although my group of fearless women is scattered across the world, if one of us has a wobble, we’re there for each other in a WhatsApp group full of love, hearts and rainbows.
While for me the benefits undoubtedly outweighed the risks, there are risks, however – and no one should go into a retreat with their eyes closed. There are reports of people dying at poorly-run retreats, so it’s crucial to use a reputable company.
With prices starting at £4,835 for a five-day stay, Beckley Retreats’ Netherlands, where I went, is pricey. But you get what you pay for. Science-backed and highly-regarded, it’s big on ensuring that therapeutic support is available before, during and after.
With prices starting at £4,835 for a five-day stay, Beckley Retreats in The Netherlands is an expensive option
But you get what you pay for. Science-backed and highly-regarded, it’s big on ensuring that therapeutic support is available before, during and after the ‘trip’
It has stringent screening procedures, too: pre-retreat, I had to complete a robust preparatory course and be checked for any mental health or trauma history. Similarly, a detailed pharmaceutical history was required – participants have to clear of medications like SSRI antidepressants.
Tara Austin, co-founder of PAR, is frustrated that some people are choosing to take risks due to the high cost of well-run retreats and the domestic legal restrictions around psilocybin. She believes that its lack of medical availability in the UK can drive people into a DIY approach.
She says: ‘It isn’t right that those who have the funds can travel abroad and get treatment, yet so many people here – people with depression, PTSD and addictions – are forced into the “psychedelic underground” [illegal ceremonies or are acquiring the drugs through illegal means] which is entirely unregulated and where it’s possible for vulnerable people to be taken advantage of.’
Her hope is that the UK will one day legalise the substance as a therapy aid, as Australia did two years ago.
Nine months on from my retreat, my world still looks rosy. In the same way that music sounds richer and more magical on psychedelics, life feels richer and more magical, too. My experience peeled away layers of armour – some accrued by personal circumstances and simply by being a middle-aged woman.
As these effects inevitably wane, I contemplate doing it all over again. In the meantime, I stay as close as I legally can to those magical little ’shrooms by taking nootropic Supplements designed to ‘enhance cognitive function’ from the Ten Percent Club wellness company: lion’s mane to keep my mind positive and clear, and cordyceps to keep my energy levels high.
Oh, and I’ve had ‘joy’ tattooed onto my arm lest I forget how to squeeze the best out of life.
Did the magic mushrooms answer all my painful questions? Yes, I genuinely believe they did – and more besides.
They helped me better understand my past and they helped reconnect me to some positive parts of my pre-midlife self, like my feistiness and propensity to find humour in most situations.
Crucially, they also showed me how to become stronger and wiser in the present day. I think I got five years’ worth of conventional therapy – or a lifetime of downward dogs at a yoga retreat – in five days.
It won’t be for everyone, but this menopausal middle-aged woman rediscovered her purpose and reinforced her relationship – yes, we’re still together – exactly as I’d hoped I would.
‘Don’t dabble with these drugs’
Dr Max Pemberton’s verdict:
Dr Max Pemberton
Psychedelics, in particular psilocybin – the active ingredient in magic mushrooms – have received much interest in recent years. It’s also had a lot of drug company money pumped into researching the benefits, including a so-called miracle cure to treat depression.
But I am concerned it is being hailed by some as a panacea when few medications are really as good as we first believe. Eventually, I suspect, psychedelics will prove to be of some value in a small number of people with very specific issues, but psilocybin studies to date have produced variable results.
While it’s not available in the UK, I worry that people will try to obtain psychedelics illicitly. I have seen many who have dabbled in these drugs and have developed mental health problems specifically from them. remember, any drug can have devasting health consequences if not used under clinical supervision.
