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Ketamine for Trauma: A Personal Story of Surrender and Release
For years, I understood my trauma, but didn’t feel much different. I’d been recovering from complex trauma for the past decade. Each modality of healing that I tried brought its own layer of healing. A few years ago, I hit a plateau. I had more awareness, more self-compassion, and more wisdom — but much of my internal experience had not changed.
Psilocybin found its way into my life, and I worked with it for several years. Later, I started working with MDMA, which was a turning point in my healing.After having finished four sessions of MDMA-assisted therapy over the course of a year, I was in a healthier place — but I was also exhausted. I wanted a break to focus on living. MDMA had opened up layers of material. It was supportive, but demanding on my nervous system.
In this process, however, I learned a valuable lesson: sometimes healing is not about continuously going deeper. Sometimes it means stepping back and giving your nervous system a rest.
Prior to starting MDMA-assisted therapy, I was sure that “I would only support plant medicine, ” and I had reservations against synthesized drugs, such as MDMA, let alone ketamine. One afternoon, I was working on a project that involved a company that offered oral ketamine packages for mental health. I got curious and started investigating ketamine for healing (although access to clear and reliable information about the process of ketamine therapy still remains limited).
I had a sudden intuitive sense that this medicine might be my next step. A week later, I started working with a therapist on the integration of my MDMA sessions. During that session, the therapist listened to much of the exhaustion I felt from a beautiful but difficult year of deep inner work. She asked me if I had ever considered ketamine-assisted therapy. It clicked. I knew this was my next step.
I was faced with difficult truths about my life and how I really feel about it all underneath the surface. I spent the next one and a half days anxious and in shock.
I was concerned it would be just as difficult to find ketamine support as it had been to find a safe container for MDMA. But she informed me that ketamine therapy is legal in many countries and far more accessible than I expected. Until then, I had not known ketamine clinics even existed (Note: Ketamine-based treatments are legally available in many jurisdictions and clinical settings, though regulation, indications, and monitoring requirements vary widely).
The same day, I Googled clinics near me and, much to my surprise, found one that was affordable and close by. I reached out and had an intake session concerning my motivation, state of mental wellness, and general health. I was informed about what to expect and was recommended a treatment plan.
Some clinics use a short series of induction infusions over several weeks, though protocols vary and the evidence base is stronger for treatment-resistant depression than for trauma-related disorders. Some people require boosters to enhance and maintain the process; this varies from person to person. A regular session takes about 40 minutes, followed by time to come back.
By day three, I felt a sudden lift. I could enjoy the sunset like I never had before, and I began to wonder if this is what people without complex trauma might be feeling like.
Ketamine is a widely used anesthetic with a long clinical history, including use in operating rooms worldwide at higher doses. In recent years, it has gained traction at lower doses for mental health treatments.
As little as 48 hours later, I had my first infusion. I underestimated the experience. I expected to simply feel lighter. My impression was that it would give me a break and some distance from the deep work that I had been doing for the past few years.
In my clinic, the first infusion was a lower dose, which was increased from the 2nd session onward. The experience is difficult to describe; it is unlike any other psychedelic. Moving from MDMA, where you are still “here” and somewhat able to navigate the session, to ketamine — where full surrender is required — was a major step. Especially for someone with complex trauma who is used to control as their default.
Session 1: Confrontation
I chose a playlist, was given headphones and an eye mask and found myself in a comfortable reclining chair, with a warm blanket on top of me, while the IV was being administered.
During my first infusion, a lot of difficult feelings came up; it felt as though someone stripped away everything to the naked truth and said, “here’s what’s going on”. After the session, I felt relaxed and exhausted and went home to sleep. The next day, I felt as though something in me had been disrupted, which concerned me. I was faced with difficult truths about my life and how I really feel about it all underneath the surface. I spent the next one and a half days anxious and in shock. But by day three, I felt a sudden lift. I could enjoy the sunset like I never had before, and I began to wonder if this is what people without complex trauma might be feeling like.
Session 2: Loss of control and the struggle to surrender
I went into session two expecting it would be similar to the first. During this 2nd session, a full dose was administered, and this time I experienced “full dissociation”. I felt I lost all sense of reality. It felt as though something had gone seriously wrong. I was not sure I was safe. I felt like I was dying. I also did not like the playlist, which triggered a lot of anxiety. I came out of the session and experienced severe nausea for a couple of hours.
But as the days passed, I was able to find online resources that helped me understand that during ketamine therapy, no one session is the same. While one can be beautiful, the next one can be extremely challenging and vice versa. Some therapists and patients describe ketamine as an ‘emotional unpacker’, though experiences vary. To move out of it, you have to feel.
Ketamine disrupts the brain’s default network, shifting you out of your usual thought patterns and feelings. The dissociative effect appears to separate mind and body, and it is best described as taking a bird´s-eye perspective on your life.
If MDMA is like riding the waves of the trauma stored in the body; ketamine is watching the entire ocean from above. This distance enabled me to see my pain without being immersed in it.
Session 3: Surrender and beauty
Session 3 was a beautiful journey. I entered with an openness to whatever may come. By now, I had learned to bring my own playlist. This step alone gave me a sense of safety and comfort.
For me, ketamine seemed to require letting go of the reins and trusting the process.
During the session, you may find yourself seeing deceased loved ones, feeling like they might die and seeing visuals such as colours, objects, and patterns. You might also experience buried memories and feelings in a dream-like way. Similarly to our sleep state, each brain processes in its own way. In my case, it felt like a rollercoaster ride: I kept on moving.
Over the next few days, I felt my executive functions returned more fully. It felt easier to organise and be productive, and there was a new sense of hope, joy and lightness. I felt less stuck in familiar processing loops.
Session 4 & 5: Suppressed emotions and release
Sessions 4 & 5 were within 48 hours of each other. By that time, I was depleted. After these sessions, I felt grief, sadness, and shock wash over me, wave after wave, without much relief. I felt spontaneous somatic releases and had the urge to move my body. Seeing the interconnectedness of my full life story felt confrontational.
Integration felt especially important to me, and some researchers discuss ketamine in relation to neuroplasticity. Integration can take the form of movement, drawing, journaling, or working with an integration specialist to help you process, make sense of, and normalise your experience. It can feel isolating to experience the dissonance between the internal journey and the contrasting outside world. Ketamine is not a magic bullet. It requires courage, readiness, and integration.
Session 6: Perspective and awareness
After session six, I came out with more awareness. I felt like I had a clear outside perspective on my emotions and life, and more capacity in my nervous system. I could suddenly look at things in a different way and see how I might still self-sabotage and stop myself in real time. I sensed a more positive outlook on life.
For someone, who has done a lot of prior inner work, I was in disbelief at the amount of stuck emotions that were revealed during these infusions. But trauma healing is not linear, and each medicine and modality brings its own facets. I am grateful I went through this process; it supported my nervous system and brain in meaningful ways.
Ketamine has taught me important lessons about surrender, truth, expectations, trust, and the illusion of control.
Comments & Perspectives
While my experience with the clinic was overall both physically safe and supportive, it can feel confusing to have such a profound spiritual and life-altering journey in the context of a hospital-like facility.
Ketamine can open deep emotional material. So clients — in my opinion — are best supported when facilitators have had personal experience with the medicine as well as trauma-informed training. Friction within the sessions, such as music, room design, temperature, and noise, can greatly influence the journey. It is important to find a clinic that listens to your needs, does not make you feel rushed, answers all your questions and potentially offers connecting you to referrals for aftercare.
When trauma happens to us, it alters our consciousness. Therefore, in many cases, entering an altered state of consciousness can support healing. In trauma therapy, this is sometimes described as the “unexperienced experience” — a process that was never fully felt, experienced, and discharged and therefore remains stored in the nervous system and body.
Psychedelics in a safe, regulated and responsible context can be a powerful tool for healing. It breaks the illusion we spend much of our lives building. Almost everyone is affected by trauma. The question, therefore, becomes less about whether or not we are traumatised but more about where on the spectrum each person sits.
My mission is to raise awareness around trauma and its implications, contribute to normalising psychedelic healing, and support others in navigating it with more clarity, empowerment and understanding.
Life after ketamine therapy feels lighter, more aware, and more hopeful. New possibilities open up with enhanced capacity. Now there is a pause in the moments in which my normal thought patterns would arise. In that pause, there is a choice.
I feel more compassion, more gratitude and a deeper acceptance of what is. These journeys have been deeply humbling to me. A reminder of surrender, of interconnectedness, and that control is an illusion. How little we actually know. There is much more to this than what we perceive in our ordinary state of consciousness.
Ketamine itself is not the answer, but it can be a powerful door. What we do with what it reveals is where the real magic begins.
Reviewer' note: This essay is a personal account of ketamine treatment and is not medical advice. Ketamine is not an established first-line treatment for complex trauma/PTSD, and access, legality, indications, and monitoring vary by country and clinic. Researchers are still working to understand exactly how ketamine exerts its psychological effects. Proposed mechanisms include changes in glutamate signalling, dissociation, and downstream effects linked to neuroplasticity. Some studies also discuss associations with BDNF-related pathways, but these mechanisms remain areas of active research rather than simple established explanations for healing.
Expert Board Member
This is a thoughtful, emotionally honest first-person account of trauma recovery that offers readers a vivid sense of what ketamine therapy can feel like from the inside. Its strength lies in its reflective tone, humane detail, and balanced acknowledgement of both hope and difficulty, making it an engaging and responsible perspective piece on a complex and sensitive subject.
