The Shame Was in the Way: Robert’s Story

Robert came to me because he felt like he couldn’t connect to his wife and son. He gave me this pseudonym to use for him as well as permission to tell this part of his story without identifying details because he thought it might help others.

One of the worst parts of his experience was feeling isolated—like he was the only man with his struggles. So here’s a piece of Robert’s story. He wanted it out there to help the next man.

In our preparation work Robert began to recall the death of his mom.

One of the beautiful things about working with psilocybin is that I don’t need to know where the work is going—and neither does the client. The subconscious has a way of unfolding a map that leads to healing. Some call this the inner wisdom or the inner healer. It’s the part of us who already knows what we need.

Robert lost his mom in a car accident, in which he was also hospitalized. He didn’t realize until our preparation session that while he was in the hospital he took on the belief that his mom’s death was his fault. That he had been carrying that belief as a burden for decades.

Prior to our preparation sessions, Robert didn’t relate this memory to his intention to connect with his wife and son. Nor was he conscious of the part of himself still carrying the belief that he caused his mom’s death.

Which is fairly typical: people can live decades without being aware of something this profound driving their behavior.

While on the medicine, Robert opened his eyes and told me that his son, who he felt he couldn’t connect to, was now the same age as Robert was when his mom died. Robert was sobbing when he told me he had to feel the unbearable pain of losing his mom, if he wanted to connect to his son.

This was his inner healer revealing to him the wound that kept him from connecting to his family as deeply as he wanted to. Which is also typical: it’s often a wound that keeps us from being who we want to be.

I believe everyone can contact their inner healer and find a map home to themselves.

An hour later, Robert told me he had gone into hell to find the little boy who thought he killed his mom. That he took him out of the place of punishment and brought him to safety. The little boy was covered in black, sticky shame. Robert told me that he washed the boy. And told him he loved him.

It was after the boy was clean—after Robert had moved through the shame—that he began to wail and shake with grief. He told me he was just sitting beside the little boy who lost his mom, being present with him and his confusion and pain.

That movement of grief lasted nearly an hour.

“The shame was in the way,” Robert told me. “The shame was keeping me from connecting to my son.”

In the months after his journey, Robert began coaching his son’s soccer team. And during our integration sessions, he related to me the ease he felt being around his son and the joy he found in becoming the father he always wanted to be.