During the surreal days of the COVID era in college, my roommates and I ventured into the mysterious world of psychedelic exploration. Over the course of a year, we embarked on numerous trips, gradually increasing the doses and solidifying my confidence in handling these mind-altering substances. It was during this time that I experienced my most profound and challenging trip yet: a 7-gram mushroom journey that led me to confront my own mind and the power of my thoughts.

Picture this: my roommate and I, eagerly preparing for our most ambitious trip yet, blending 7 grams of mushrooms into a tantalizing fruit smoothie before gulping it down in anticipation. As the trip began, I braced myself for the inevitable nausea that always accompanied my mushroom come-ups, and this time was no different.

The journey started off quite smoothly, much as I had expected. However, as the trip intensified, I noticed my roommate acting strangely. He seemed to be struggling with the experience, jumping in and out of the shower, grasping for towels, and mumbling about his inability to speak due to the excess mucus clogging his throat. The sight of him in distress alarmed me, and I couldn't shake off the sense of responsibility I felt for having introduced him to psychedelics in the first place. 

As my worry grew, I found myself trapped in a negative thought loop, spiraling further into darkness with each repetition of "Is he okay? Am I overreacting? Am I the one losing it?". Desperate for a way out, I decided to reset my thoughts by taking a shower. But as I passed the mirror on my way to the bathroom, I made a grave mistake – I looked at my own reflection.

My visuals were awash with sickly green and yellow hues, distorting my skin and face into a nightmarish vision of illness and decay. The more I stared, the more my nausea escalated. In the shower, I huddled in despair, consumed by thoughts of my failures as I vomited uncontrollably, feeling as if I'd hit rock bottom.

Convinced that I could no longer endure the oppressive atmosphere of the apartment, I resolved to escape – to take a walk and sleep off the trip in my car. As I prepared to leave, I overheard a conversation between my roommate and our less-than-effective trip sitter. Intrigued, I joined in, and as I listened, a profound realization dawned on me.

I had been the architect of my own suffering. My relentless need to control the situation and ensure everyone's well-being – despite it not being my responsibility – had plunged me into the dark abyss of my own mind. I was suddenly aware of the immense power of my thoughts and how one negative idea could derail an entire experience.

From that moment on, my trip transformed into an awe-inspiring adventure. I enjoyed deep conversations, mesmerizing visuals, and an overall sense of joy and wonder. Though some might label my experience as a "bad trip," I refuse to accept that label. Yes, it was terrifying and uncomfortable, but it was also a journey of self-discovery and an invaluable lesson in the power of the mind. It was a trip that I will never forget, and one that has forever changed the way I view myself and the world around me.