Age and LSD — The Fear Has Set In
I don’t want to rock the boat
When I first took LSD I was 19. Like most people around that age, it felt more enlightening than it was. That’s not to say I didn’t learn something from it, it helped teach me about my mental state and my place in the world. Not only was it educational, but it was beautiful and mesmerizing. So much so that I ended up taking it around 20 times over six years.
I never developed an addiction to it (which is rare but can happen), but the first three times captivated me. It was majestic and careful and curious. It helped with my depression and I believe it contributed to curing it.
However, over time I noticed downsides. It affected my OCD. Not everybody gets this side effect. In fact, acid is being tested as a treatment for OCD. I, however, perceived it as the drug’s impact on pattern recognition extending into my sober life.
But still, I’d rather have a manageable level of OCD than deep depression. So I’d say I got out with a net win.
While I microdose from time to time, it’s been a few years since I’ve taken a full dose of LSD. The idea terrifies me. I’ve been trying to understand why.
Tripping and Aging
There’s a phenomenon where kids find it easier to go on rollercoasters than adults. There’s more novelty attached to it; they’re aware of how fast their bodies recover, and there’s less fear of harm as they don’t know as much about the dangers of the world. The same often rings true for late teens taking psychedelics.
You shouldn’t take psychedelics while your brain is still developing. Don’t add this ingredient to the soup while it’s still cooking. But… it’s undeniable that tripping when you’re in your late teens and early 20s is easier.
As I got older, I noticed the negatives more. Fearing my OCD would get worse was a big factor, but it wasn’t just that. The closer I got to 25, the more I worried about developing or triggering schizophrenia and other intense mental health conditions. Despite these not running in my family, I was concerned.
Don’t Rock the Boat
When I first took psychedelics, I wasn’t doing too well.
My depression was eating me alive, and my anxiety had started to bite. I’d had a troubling time at university, and it had left scars. Taking LSD didn’t really feel like that big of a deal because sober life was tough, anyway.
I was lucky that LSD helped with my depression- it gave me the tools to work on my mental health. But even if it didn’t, it wouldn’t have felt so daunting regardless.
Fast forward to now, and everything is much, much better. My depression has been gone for years, and my anxiety is tough but manageable. And so I think to myself: why rock the boat? Would I even be able to enjoy a good time tripping when I’m thinking about how it might affect me in the future?
The Good Might Not Have Outweighed the Bad
Each trip has its own structure and feel. They’re all unique and they leave you altered in some specific and novel way each time they end. While my first few trips were some of the best experiences I’ve ever had, my later ones were littered with things that were far too off-putting for me to think back on them with full fondness.
Feelings of skin crawling, people near me freaking out, anxiety about going outside, overwhelming visuals… The list goes on. It’s not that there weren’t glorious images, spiritually rich sensations, and dozens of epiphanies that have helped me navigate life at its best. But the bad feels too intense compared to the good for me.
LSD, after a certain amount of time, can have this “creepy elder” vibe to it. It’s kind and it wants the best for you, but it wants to show you some weird-ass stuff that might not really help you out, and is comfortable with you feeling uncomfortable.
That mindset wears you down. Because it ends up being there even during the good bits.
Final Words
I love LSD. It’s the first drug to ever change my life, and it did so for the better. But truth be told, I don’t have the bravery for full-blown trips. I take microdoses here and there, but even with them, I’m cautious.
I wish I had that courage from my late teens. Psychedelics felt so daring yet so approachable. Nowadays, I feel I respect them so much I can’t take them.
I think this is a perspective many people past 25 can relate to. I run into adults all the time who love psychedelics but avoid them. There’s two options: embrace the fear and take the leap, or accept that the fear is a part of who I currently am, and try to integrate it. Neither are necessarily bad. The latter is definitely easier, and it might be that some of the fear comes from my mind simply clarifying that I’ve gotten enough out of full LSD trips, and despite what I think there’s nothing significant left there for me. I try to listen to signs like this. Perhaps something will switch in the future and the right time will emerge. But for now, I see the most viable path as one of waiting and contemplation.
For further critical discussions on substances, culture, and medicine, check out my physical magazine, Existential Horror. This is a 250+ page publication designed to be a critique and celebration of psychedelia and substance-use culture. Vol 2 is out now!
