The Tell: A Memoir

Psychiatrists began to examine the therapeutic use of psychedelic drugs in the early 20th century. The discovery of LSD in the mid-1940s encouraged this research, and throughout the 1950s and 1960s, a number of doctors found LSD to be an effective treatment for a variety of mental health conditions, particularly alcoholism. Tens of thousands of patients were prescribed LSD during the 1950s and 1960s, sometimes as a stand-alone treatment and sometimes in conjunction with psychoanalysis. However, these treatments were brought to a halt in 1962 when the US Congress passed new guidelines on drug safety and the Food and Drug Administration classified LSD as an experimental drug, limiting scientists’ abilities to conduct research and perform studies. Soon afterward, LSD gained popularity as a street drug, becoming associated with counter-culture and student protest movements of the 1960s, which damaged its public perception as a legitimate medical treatment.

However, the end of the 20th century saw a renewed interest in the therapeutic properties of psychedelic drugs, and a growing number of studies and clinical trials were performed over the course of the 2000s. The US Food and Drug Administration recently granted breakthrough therapy designations that are designed to expedite the research and development of promising drugs and certain psychedelics, including psilocybin and MDMA. This policy shift allows doctors to further explore the therapeutic effects of such substances on conditions like depression, anxiety disorders, and PTSD.

However, psychedelics’ reputation as street drugs or recreational drugs has continued to hinder their acceptance in mainstream medicine and the realm of public opinion. Amy Griffin’s story reveals the extent to which psychedelic-assisted therapy is becoming more accepted in the broader medical community, but her experience still retains some of the stigma associated with recreational drug usage. Amy grew up in a conservative small town “where drugs were patently off-limits, the domain of deadbeats and criminals” (76). She was taught that her “brain would be a cracked egg frying in a cast-iron skillet if [she] partook” (76), so she rarely drank and never did more than pretend to smoke if her friends passed her a joint. However, as her personal memoirs relate, her husband’s interest in psychedelic-assisted therapy legitimizes the treatment for Amy. She trusts John and is also impressed by the kindness and professionalism of Olivia, the practitioner who aids her. She expects Olivia to look like “a scene out of Burning Man, with crystals and sage,” but instead she is “disarming, polished, and wise” (78), deftly answering Amy’s many questions and allowing her to overcome her initial misgivings about ingesting an illegal, mind-altering substance.

Despite the growing acceptance of psychedelic-assisted therapy and Amy’s own willingness to let go of her preconceived notions, the lingering stigma surrounding psychedelics like MDMA adds a layer of complexity to Amy’s healing. She imagines people doubting the veracity of memories that she recovered while under the influence of drugs, and she even briefly questions herself for the same reasons. Although her treatment successfully illustrates that psychedelics can have manifold therapeutic effects, her story also acknowledges the stigma that these practices have yet to overcome.