K: A Journey

I’ve tried everything. Psychedelics, antidepressants, diet, exercise, meditation, breathing therapies—probably a few other things I’ve forgotten along the way. Treatment-resistant depression is a tricky beast, one that doesn’t give up its grip easily. For years, I’ve heard people rave about ketamine therapy, but I’ve only ever flirted with it, never fully committing. Until now.

Thanks to Masha Ty, head of Corporate Growth and Education at ACS Laboratory, our chemical guru, who connected me with Sandra Statz and Warren Gumpel from Eighth Circuit Advisors, I decided to take the plunge. Eighth Circuit is an organization that works to expand access to ketamine therapy for transformative mental health.

Together, we mapped out a plan: I would explore whether ketamine could really help me by doing every possible form of it over the course of just three weeks. Yes, six treatments in three weeks. I was curious not only about the effects of the drug but also about the different philosophies and approaches to non-traditional medicine—Western versus Eastern. I’ve got a bit of an allergy to “woo-woo” stuff, so I was eager to see how these different schools of thought would shape my experience.

Week One: The Nushama Experience

The first stop on my ketamine journey was Nushama Wellness Center, a clinic that feels more like a wellness spa than a medical facility. It’s got that soft, cozy vibe—think pink fairy wallpaper and plush chairs in a Midtown location in New York City. From the get-go, it was clear this wasn’t going to be traditional medicine. The clues were all there, but I was too excited to notice. I sat back in the comfortable chair, headphones on, IV line in place, and waited for the magic to happen. 

But… nothing. Well, not nothing, but I’d been expecting something more dramatic. I’d heard ketamine described as psychedelic or psychedelic-adjacent, and I quickly realized I’m firmly in the “adjacent” camp. The experience wasn’t overwhelming—it was pleasant, certainly—but I wasn’t transported to any alternate dimension. I was aware I was in Midtown, sitting in a comfy chair, waiting for something profound to unfold. But I didn’t disassociate. No intense revelations. Was I disappointed? A little, but I decided to try again. I wasn’t giving up after just one dose.

Two days later, I was back at Nushama for round two, this time with a higher dose. Surely, this would do the trick, right? We doubled the dose, but again, my experience didn’t match my expectations. The effects were again mild—no mind-bending trips, no out-of-body experiences. The setting was cozy, the music was calming, and I was lying there with headphones on, trying to get out of my own head. But it felt more like a relaxing nap than a transformative therapeutic experience. I still wasn’t disassociating. Still aware of everything around me. At this point, I was starting to think maybe ketamine wasn’t for me—or maybe I just wasn’t doing it right.

Week Two: Lozenge Therapy at Home

By my third treatment, I decided to try something new: ketamine lozenges. The convenience of doing it at home appealed to me. No IVs, no strangers hovering over me—just me, my cats, and the lozenges, with the ability to kick back and take my time. I was in my own environment, and there was something comforting about that. But once again, the experience was subtle. I didn’t have any massive breakthroughs, but I did start to notice a slight lightening of my mood. A reduction in anxiety. My day-to-day felt just a bit less overwhelming, though not dramatically so. It wasn’t the transformation I’d been hoping for, but I was starting to see small changes.

Week Three: The Podiatrist Office Surprise

For my next treatments, I went a bit more traditional—back to the realm of Western medicine. I found a clinic that offered intramuscular ketamine shots. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it was certainly the most “clinical” experience so far. Picture this: lying on a doctor’s office table, in a podiatrist’s office of all places, with Halloween decorations everywhere. The door was wide open, and the nurse gave me the shot while I supplied my own headphones. No soothing music, no spa ambiance—just me, a needle, and a ketamine shot. Honestly, it was kind of surreal, but even with all the strange surroundings, the effects were again underwhelming. I didn’t feel like I was having a profound breakthrough. The experience was neutral, almost clinical. I felt a bit lighter afterward, but nothing earth-shattering.

The Sound Bath Experience

By my fifth treatment, I decided to go for a more holistic approach. I found Cardea, a center in Soho that combined ketamine therapy with a live sound bath. The vibe was completely unique from the previous clinics. The staff was small but incredibly passionate, and the space itself was cozy and inviting—furniture made from mushrooms, silver couches, and a genuine sense of care and enthusiasm for helping people. The moment I walked in, I could feel the difference.

The live sound bath was as strange and wonderful as it sounds. It’s an immersive, meditative experience with soothing sounds designed to open up your mind. And this was the moment I had been waiting for. As the ketamine took effect, I felt myself truly dissociate. For the first time in my treatment journey, I let go completely. The combination of the ketamine and the sound bath created the perfect environment for me to fully relax, disconnect, and reset. I finally felt what I had been hoping for—a profound sense of relief and release. It was the closest I came to the transformative experience I had been craving.

Key Takeaway: Active Participation

One key insight came from Cardea’s Clinical Director Zach Rieck, who told me that “setting and mindset are more important than the drug itself.” He wasn’t wrong. What I realized throughout my six treatments is that ketamine therapy isn’t a passive experience. It requires active participation. It’s not just about the drug; it’s also about where you are mentally and physically, and the environment in which you’re engaging with it. At Cardea, I was in control. I wasn’t just receiving treatment, but actively involved in the process. That made all the difference.

Does Ketamine Work?

So, after six treatments in three weeks, does ketamine work? For me, yes. It wasn’t the instant cure-all that some people report, and it didn’t deliver some life-altering breakthrough, but it did help. Most notably, I no longer wake up in the grip of those intense morning terrors that used to ruin my day before it even started. That’s a huge win in my book. It wasn’t a magic bullet, but it provided enough relief for me to make some meaningful changes in my life.

Is Ketamine Right for You?

If you’ve got the time and resources to commit—think $2,000-$4,000 and six days off work—then yes, ketamine could be worth exploring. But don’t expect a miracle. It requires a level of engagement and intentionality that goes beyond just showing up for a dose. The setting and mindset matter. If you’re looking for a quick fix, this may not be it, but if you’re ready to actively participate in your own healing, ketamine could offer real benefits. For me, it was a worthwhile journey.

This article appeared in Honeysuckle's Issue 19 print edition with Mike Tyson! K: A Journey is currently in production.