LSD, Depression, and Anxiety: What Happens When We Choose to Feel It All

Let’s talk about something tender and brave: the possibility of using LSD—not to escape, not to numb—but to feel more. To heal more.

I know. That’s a sentence that might make some people raise an eyebrow. But hear me out.

In recent years, researchers and therapists have been taking a serious, science-backed look at how psychedelics like LSD can help people struggling with depression and anxiety. And the findings are, honestly, beautiful. Not because LSD is some miracle cure—but because it can open a door. And on the other side of that door is truth, vulnerability, and maybe even a little hope.

Here’s what we know: LSD affects the serotonin system in the brain. That’s the part of us tied to mood, emotion, and connection. In a safe, intentional setting—often paired with therapy—LSD seems to quiet the inner critic that never shuts up. You know the one. The voice that says, You’re not enough. You’ll never get better. Why even try?

That voice? LSD helps turn the volume down long enough for something softer to rise up. Something wiser. Something that says, You’re worthy of healing. You’re allowed to feel joy again.

In clinical studies, people who’ve taken LSD with therapeutic support often describe it as one of the most meaningful experiences of their lives. Some feel like they reconnected with themselves after years of disconnection. Others describe it as a moment of clarity—seeing their pain without being swallowed by it.

But let’s not romanticize it. This isn’t about getting high and feeling better. This is deep work. Messy work. Brave-as-hell work. And it only truly works when set and setting are honored—when people are emotionally prepared (set), and held in a physically and emotionally safe space (setting). Without that, the experience can feel confusing or even frightening.

That’s why integration—the process of making sense of what came up—is just as important as the journey itself. Because healing doesn’t happen in a single moment. It happens in the practice of coming home to yourself, again and again.

LSD is not for everyone. And it’s not a replacement for community, therapy, or grounded support. But for some people, it’s been a powerful companion on their healing path. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from this work, it’s that healing doesn’t always look the way we expect it to.

Sometimes it looks like opening your heart to something you were taught to fear. Sometimes it looks like crying for two hours straight because you finally feel safe enough to let go. And sometimes, it looks like a bright, unexpected moment of peace in the middle of the storm.

Not because the pain is gone. But because you finally believe you can carry it with compassion.

That’s not escaping. That’s courage. And that’s what healing is all about.