I was coping with stress and sleep deprivation in ways that didn’t look like me. Each week, I was drinking a 40oz bottle of Disaronno—an amount that would have been unthinkable before. I had my first drink at 24 and, in the eleven years after, could count on one hand how many times I’d even been buzzed.
From the outside, I was still functioning. I showed up to work and always delivered ontime with excellent servicve. I was on three different times to foster change control development and other software features.
But internally, things were starting to come apart.
The exhaustion, the pressure, the constant tension—it wasn’t letting up. My emotional stability began to slip, slowly at first, then all at once. My PTSD no longer felt like something I managed. It felt like something that was managing me.
When you have a history like mine, failure isn’t an option. You may stumble and get kicked down, but there’s no going back. Falling down for too long would only encourage my past to become my present. I worked hard to make sure that’d never happen.
October 2024, I tried psychedelic mushrooms for the first time.
The experience was unexpectedly comforting. I felt warm—like I was being cradled, gently rocked into a place of rest I hadn’t felt in a long time. For the first time, I was able to move deeper into my trauma than I ever had before, even after working with countless therapists.
I filled dozens of pages in my journal.
From the outside, nothing had really changed. I was still working long hours. Still showing up. Still carrying everything the same way.
But internally, something had shifted—just slightly.
In the middle of everything—the chaos at work, the exhaustion, the instability—I felt something unfamiliar: a small sense of clarity.
I went on two more trips before the end of the month. Each one gave me a temporary pause. Not an escape from reality, but a break from the constant noise—flashbacks, pressure, stress. It created space to reflect, to write, and to reconnect with parts of myself that had been buried for a long time.
But the relief never lasted.
I voluntarily admitted myself to inpatient care on 10/23/24.