Musings on the Changing Landscape of Psychedelics

By Antanika Hoberg
APS President

The views and opinions expressed in this article are solely my own and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the Australian Psychedelic Society.

As I watch the landscape of psychedelics change and the dust storms it creates settles and flares, I have begun to consider why I wanted to volunteer my time to organisations dedicated to psychedelics in the first place. This year marks six years of volunteering with the Australian Psychedelic Society (APS), and with Psychedelic Assisted Therapy (PAT) now legal in Australia, things are changing. Psychedelics are now “mainstream,” and this makes me consider, what was I seeking when I first found psychedelics, the APS, and how my perspective has changed.

When I found the APS, I was new to the underground world of psychedelics, drug reform, and terms such as decriminalisation. I barely understood what decriminalisation meant, which was the whole aim of the APS. I knew I’d learn, and I didn’t care what it was or wasn’t—I just wanted to help. My goal when starting my work in this space was simple: to help people with deep, dark trauma, like me. I wanted them to see it from a different perspective, to feel better, to feel connected. I wanted to help people access the tools and support that we all need to ensure safe and comfortable experiences because I was alone when i experienced this and don’t want others to feel alone. 

When I first found psychedelics, I was terrified. In my first experiences, my fear of taking these potent substances echoed through each experience to varying degrees. The anxiety was crippling. “Would my heart stop? Could I go insane? What happens if I need help? Is this LSD okay? Are these mushrooms actually death caps?” '

I had to integrate alone, isolated from friends or family who didn’t understand.

I didn’t have the support I needed. I did not know how or where to get it.

My experiences are vastly different from some of Australia’s first clients to receive legal clinical psychedelic-assisted therapy (PAT), these individuals went through the controversially expensive above-ground treatments (legal drugs with approved therapists, that the government knows about—no sneaking around for these guys). I have had the pleasure of working with some of them on their ongoing integration program, which eventually will end, and these clients will be left to navigate their changing perspectives and inner worlds on their own.

It’s been an honour to sit and hear the PAT client’s stories and insights unravel, to hear how grateful these people are to have been able to access a treatment that has changed them so profoundly and safely that the cost didn’t matter to them. They felt supported, held, and comforted in a time of complete vulnerability. They each had two therapists, heart rate monitoring, blood pressure monitoring, and a nurse in the next room. This setting for the anxious mind is a dream come true. Had this been something I could access way back when, I would have. I can’t help but wonder how much deeper my own experiences might have been had I had access to Psychedelic Assisted Therapy (PAT) treatments in these clinical settings. The conditions might have made me feel safer to “let go” or delve into some topics I still refuse to touch, despite DMT wanting to show me. I did however find some kind of healing and I have the underground psychedelic realm to thank for providing me with the space to grow in the ways that I have, for the people I have met, opportunities created and for the insights and tensions shared.

For many of us, the world of psychedelics and our passion for them is a reminder of a profound experience we once had. I find myself reliving my own experiences through the themes within someone else's story, for others their passion comes from a powerful moment listening to a song, a moment of clarity on a big problem, fun on a dance floor, a connection with a friend, the feeling of true love and often true connection with self and nature. 

We shouldn’t be punished or stigmatised for these experiences. We shouldn’t have to fight for our right to explore who we are, but what we should have is many options to do so, safely.

So I continue to volunteer my time to this ever-changing movement and leave this piece of writing with this last note: the decriminalisation of psychedelics and other drugs is a necessary part of reducing harms in a movement that will only push forward. Creating awareness, volunteering, working, and advocating for communities and other organisations providing harm reduction, education, and research around psychedelics and other drugs—such as the Australian Psychedelic Society (APS), EGA, PRISM, and the PATCH—is integral not only for the safety of those who already seek to work, heal, or have fun in the underground psychedelic realms but also for those who find themselves here after the clinical spaces can no longer support them.

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