Getting Accepted into a MAPS.org Phase III Clinical Trial

So I got put on a waitlist for a phase III clinical trial with MAPS.org for MDMA-assisted therapy in regards to PTSD and am currently scheduled for experimental treatment some time in late 2016/17 in the U.S. (they have discontinued those trials in Switzerland with no plans on doing another tier of those. Switzerland would be “around the corner” from where I live, but has become obsolete for any foreseeable future in regards to that particular plan). I don’t have a single clue as to how to simply make it for another two years with this horrible condition not to mention the pressures coming from the system in addition to trying to take it one day at a time, where the system is designed in such a way that anyone needy for whatever reason falls through the cracks and/or commits suicide “voluntarily”.

PTSD kills 22 veterans of war – every single day, maybe even more than that. I’ve been living with it for 50 years. And for the record: No, it doesn’t take war action to experience trauma and develop (C-)PTSD. Getting hefty needles stuck in your back as a newborn without anesthesia and in isolation and getting tube-fed (warning!!! Graphic and disturbing content!) will do, too.

If that wasn’t enough: Surgical trauma at age 4 will also “help” next to emotional, verbal and mild physical abuse in the years to follow. And if that still sounded like a whiner’s tale: Finding a terribly mutilated body in your home folks’ home at age 12, which got accidentally “skinned” for suffering lethal burns from near-boiling bathing water will “help” also and got the criminal investigators sit at the kitchen table looking like linnen cloth when interrogating me (which is standard procedure in such cases to find evidence for or preclude a premeditated crime). No, I’m not making any of this up. These are some of the “blessings” I received at a young age, when you should be thinking about nothing else but how to maximize youthful bliss.

As an adolescent and adult, I did have had some help along the way, but mostly unspecific and at times, when the terms “trauma” and PTSD weren’t even firmly established let alone the science behind them or treatment in regards to it. PTSD took my childhood, my youth, my health, my livelihood (former career) and my – otherwise – happy marriage. It took any savings I had set aside from a career, where at this point I can’t even wrap my mind around any more as to how the hell I made it happen to begin with (probably a good deal of willpower, even being stubborn and meaning to blend and be like everybody else – I still desire nothing more than just being like anybody else). It also took something away, which most people will most likely take for granted: A sense of feeling safe in your body. A constantly hyper-aroused nervous system feels a – potentially lethal – threat constantly, even at times, when none is present in real life. The sensations flooding your nervous system when triggering situations occur can’t be controlled or toned down at will – contrary to what conventional therapy approaches keep saying. They happen in the most primordial parts of your brain and they are supposed to work like that! (they are actually reflexes in nature. Ever succeeded in suppressing a physical reflex…?)

PTSD and its outcomes, both internal and external, is going to take my life at some point if I can’t get the help I’ve been needing for 50 years. Noone should have to “live” like that. (and at the time I’m typing this, I’m not only thinking of myself, but also of the hundreds of thousands of more people living in or escaping from war torn countries, doing humanitarian or military service in said countries or being exposed to traumatic scenes on their jobs: As paramedics, fire fighters, police men, first call responders in any case of emergency. They are all likely to suffer PTSD at some point in their lives).

To give you an idea: Imagine the worst nightmare you ever woke up from along with the physical sensations of sweating, hyperventilating, maybe needing to use the bathroom. That’s what happens to your body as a PTSD survivor at random, when even mundane day-to-day events trigger the initial traumatic experience for reasons of looking, feeling, smelling or sounding like the original situation. PTSD takes your body hostage and tortures it at any time without prior warning. It’s worse than a nightmare – because it’s your “life”, happening in survival mode.

Today, I feel I’m more or less – dependable – human debris hanging on to survival instinct. But I have this annoying conviction that I can be o.k. and healed – as others before me had the fortune to experience after undergoing MDMA-assisted psychotherapy at a success rate of 83% over 22% with conventional therapy (the latter of which I don’t have access to any longer on account of loopholes in my health insurance policy and for needing to exhaust whatever savings I had set aside from my previous career).

There’s also the route of finding a retreat center in the Amazon jungle for Ayahuasca ceremonies. But I’m old school/conventional like that and would prefer a clinical setting over a bug-, snake- and giant spider-ridden rain forest experience with no conventional medicinal help anywhere near in the case of an emergency… (I don’t mind camping out, so long as I don’t have to share my makeshift abode with the latter two of the aforementioned creatures… And there were emergencies that given the overall lack of infrastructure there took at least one life, I’ve heard of at least one more case like this ) If I started a crowdfunding campaign – would you support me? (I have become disabled on account of the condition in 2008 and haven’t been in any shape to work eversince; I do nourish hopes of getting to return to music or writing at some point, though). This may sound “Hollywoody”, whiney, cheesy, but – it is about saving my life at this point. Short, sweet and simple.

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