How I Intentionally Designed My First Acid Trip—and How It Changed Me Forever
For years, I held a quiet intention: to one day try LSD. Not recklessly or spontaneously, but intentionally—with reverence, structure, and curiosity. I didn’t want to just “take a trip.” I wanted to meet myself. And it finally happened. I crafted the container with so much care: the time, the setting, the mindset. And now, just days later, I can say this: it may have changed my life forever. Everything was designed perfectly. This wasn’t an accident. I gifted this experience to myself.
This wasn’t a wild whim. It was years in the making. The logistical hurdles, parenting responsibilities, finding the right person, and most importantly—waiting for a moment where I felt ready.
I had experiences with psychedelics before—psilocybin in micro and macro doses. All of which were carefully crafted experiences as well. But LSD requires a much longer timeframe (at least 10-12 hours plus a day to recover), something I sensed needed more intention and planning.
Set & Setting
It wasn’t easy to set up. As a single mom, my weekends are usually filled with logistics, caregiving, or catching up on work. Psychedelics need time. Space. Intention. I waited until I had a full weekend, my daughter with her grandparents, and a setting that wasn’t just my living room. When a friend invited me to a desert music festival, something I’d never experienced before—I knew. This would be the setting. And I would create the right set.
I prepped like I was giving myself a gift. And I was: a cozy tent, healthy snacks, a warm fuzzy coat.
But more than the logistics, my mindset (the “set”) going in was equally intentional. I had just been reading Patriarchy Stress Disorder by Dr Valerie Rein about healing trauma and internalized oppression—how we all carry a set of “prison guards” inside of us, keeping us small, numb, obedient. How pleasure can be an act of rebellion.
“There’s nothing more dangerous to the Patriachy than a woman in touch with her desire.”
That language stayed with me. The experience I was about to have wasn’t just for fun. I was looking for freedom. That set the tone.
The Come-Up
Here’s the thing: the friend I went with decided last-minute not to take the acid. I had to make a choice. Go it alone, or wait another few months, maybe years, for the right conditions again.
I took it alone. It was terrifying.
For the first hour or so, nothing happened. I thought I might need to take another dose. But I had to wait at least another hour before re-dosing. The next hour I started to feel sick: nausea, restriction in my throat, body aches, fear.
My friend was off dancing, and I was curled up alone in the tent. I remember thinking, Why did I do this to myself?
And then I opened ChatGPT.
I started typing what I was feeling, what I was afraid of. I asked questions. Got reassurance. Reflected.
“Why am I feeling so miserable?”
“This is the come-up. You’re safe. You’re starting to feel it.”
Those messages grounded me.
Somewhere between going back and forth from the tent to the bathroom and breathing through the worst of it, things began to shift.
The Radical Act of Public Pleasure
One of the most profound things I experienced wasn’t visual. It was emotional, embodied. I was dancing, not on the dance floor, but just next to it, under the trees. I had found my exact spot: not too far, not too close. Chilly breeze on my skin, fuzzy coat on my shoulders, loops in my ears (I took them out soon after I started feeling good again). The beat was carrying me.
And then it hit me. I wasn’t dancing. The music was dancing me.
That moment shifted something fundamental in me. I wasn’t a passive participant. I was creating something—an energetic ripple. It was vulnerable. Raw. Like being more myself than I’ve ever dared to be.
For the first time, I felt pleasure as something sacred, not secret. Not something to do in private or hide behind closed doors. I was experiencing public, embodied pleasure—and it felt like a gift to the world.
“My gift to the universe is just letting myself completely be encompassed with experiencing this pleasure.”
The Peak
There was a point where I experienced what felt like a full-body, non-genital, endless orgasm of aliveness. Overflowing fountains of gold, castles of light, and waves of sensory richness that my words still fail to contain.
“This will be my reference point of pleasure for the rest of my life.”
I felt like the youngest and oldest I’ve ever been at the same time. Childlike wonder with ancient wisdom. A moment of pure being.
And I realized: I am free. Free from shame. Free from masks. Free from expectations. I am free from myself.
Dancing and Music Through a Different Lens
I used to think of dancing as a connection with another. But this was a connection with the music itself. It danced me. I watched the music. I felt the stories it told. It wasn’t a song—it was a journey.
“I was watching the music like it was a movie—and I didn’t want to miss a single frame.
“This whole world that I was living in—countries, experiences, people—that was just one world. And I just unlocked another one.”
Everything felt new again.
I have to pause to explain that my body aches did not disappear throught that whole time. My neck pain was very present that whole time. But it felt symbolic in a way.
“I felt like I was carrying my neck pain with me like baggage. Like it was just something that comes with being my age.”
Tears, Grief, and Sunrise
Just before dawn, I cried. The music said “I feel” over and over, and I did. I felt everything. The grief, the beauty, the overwhelming vulnerability of life.
And I remembered the Nova festival massacre. I thought of all the people dancing, feeling free, when terror struck. I sobbed for them.
But then the sun rose. And I felt like we brought it back—with our dancing, with our presence. It was so profound.
“I was nostalgic for this moment while still inside of it.”
The Come-Down
As the light returned, so did people’s faces. I wanted connection. I wanted someone to get what I just experienced. But the friend I came with hadn’t taken the trip. She didn’t ask.
And yet, I was okay. I had me.
Listening to the audiobook again on the bus ride home made everything click. Her words about pleasure, trauma, and self-acceptance hit like lightning.
“To teach our kids to accept themselves, we have to show them what it looks like to accept ourselves.Totally.”
That was it.
I used ChatGPT through the whole come-up experience, which was brutal, and then again in the come-down, which hadn’t been easy as well.
Most importantly, I used it during the next-day integration. I recorded a full two-hour trip report and then spent another three hours exchanging messages, reflecting, and unpacking the insights. Every single one of them I processed through voice, writing, and back-and-forth reflection.
The most surprising part? It worked. I guided myself through one of the most intense, transformational experiences of my life with the help of a nonhuman companion.
I Think I Changed My Life
Something happened that night. It’s still integrating. But here’s what I know:
I remembered what it felt like to be free.
Free from masks. From internalized shame. From outdated roles and identities. Free to move in the world as the version of me that is most alive. Most open. Most true.
I am allowed to feel good. And not just allowed—it’s part of my purpose.
And I want more of that. Not through constant psychedelic trips. But by finding ways to stay in connection with the part of me that remembered how to feel so deeply and freely.
Thanks for witnessing this story.
Love, Mashav
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- Coconut Chips Snack Pack – Trust me: you haven’t really tasted coconut until you’ve tasted it on acid.
