Demian Gitnacht, MD, MPH, FAAFP

He sat across from me quietly for a moment before finally saying something I hear more often than people realize. “Doc, I do not want to take medication unless I absolutely have to.” He was not rejecting help. He had already done years of therapy. He exercised regularly. He meditated. He had read books, listened to podcasts, and tried to understand his mind. Still, something remained stuck. Anxiety kept looping through his nervous system. Sleep was shallow. The same intrusive thoughts arrived

She did not go to the ceremony looking for a memory. She went because something inside her life felt heavy in a way she could not name. Relationships felt unsafe even when they were not. Intimacy carried dread without explanation. Her mind did not hold any narrative of childhood trauma. Her history, as far as she knew, was ordinary. On the second night of the ayahuasca ceremony , an image emerged with unmistakable force. She was small. The room was dim. A figure entered. The body sensations...

There is a particular kind of morning that many people know intimately. The alarm sounds, but the body does not move. Limbs feel heavy, as if gravity has thickened overnight. The room is quiet, yet the mind already feels tired. The day ahead does not appear as possibility. It appears as something to get through. Even small tasks, brushing teeth, answering a message, standing up, can feel strangely distant, like objects across a fogged window. For people living with depression, trauma, or long...