ACID AND ALCOHOL DON'T MIX

Using LSD To Cure Alcoholism Is A Bad Idea. I've Got The Scars To Prove It.

It should be obvious: giving LSD to an alcoholic in the hope of
curing them is a very, very bad idea. But various newspapers this
week appear not to agree. For instance, we've got the Independent
claiming "LSD helps alcoholics put down the bottle" and Metro
stating, "LSD can help alcoholics quit drink".

They're alluding to the just-released findings of Erika Dyck, a
professor of the history of medicine at the University of Alberta,
who recently revisited the subject (and subjects) of a four decades
old research study by British psychiatrist Humphrey Osmond, who
experimented with giving alcoholics a single dose of LSD in a bid to
cure their illness.

Although Osmond's study was dismissed with skepticism, Dyck has now
presented her findings in an academic journal, Social History of
Medicine, claiming that "the LSD experience appeared to allow the
patients to go through a spiritual journey that ultimately empowered
them to heal themselves".

On the eve of being twelve years sober, reading this dangerous drivel
makes me shake my head in disbelief. While in the throes of
alcoholism, I experimented with LSD twice. The first time, I spent a
night plagued by terrifying hallucinations. The second, I was found
unconscious by friends, with a razor blade by my side and some badly
bleeding cuts on my left arm. To this day, I have no recollection of
what happened that night. Botched suicide attempt? Messy act of self
harm? Either way, the consequences could have been fatal.

I still have scars on my arm from that night as a stark reminder of a
lucky escape. So no, Erika Dyck, in taking LSD while sick with
alcoholism, I did not go through a spiritual journey that ultimately
empowered me to heal myself. And considering how many alcoholics use
drugs and vice versa, the idea of treating alcoholism with a street
drug is preposterous.

The problem with alcoholism is that it is an illness; accordingly,
the medical field perpetually seeks to find a "cure" that will tidily
put an end to it.

One typical longstanding treatment is to prescribe alcoholics with
Antabuse in a bid to break the cycle of physical dependence. The
active ingredient of Antabuse is disulfiram, which interferes with
the way the body breaks down alcohol; if you drink alcohol while
taking the drug, you become violently sick.

When I was nineteen, my psychiatrist put me on a course of the drug.
It was presented to me as a quick-fix solution, and addicts of all
kinds worship the concept of the quick-fix; but I found it useless.
Instead of finding the chemical deterrent a helpful barrier to
drinking, I perversely found myself craving alcohol even more
intensely than before. Ten days into taking it, I couldn't stand the
craving, and without consulting my psychiatrist took myself off the
drug. I went straight back to drinking. Antabuse didn't work for
George Best, and it didn't work for me.

Then there's Alcoholics Anonymous (AA). Some believe that AA is the
only cure for alcoholism, but for many recovering alcoholics that's
simply not true. Although I went to a handful of meetings during the
first two years of my sobriety, the 12 step program and herd
mentality never really clicked for me.

AA people used to hit me with scaremongering quips like "AA's the
only way" and "if you don't come here, you'll go back to drinking".
I'd think: I'm not looking for another crutch, thank you. In the end,
my problem with AA is that I don't believe in any form of
prescriptive lifestyle - and that's exactly what AA offers.

And AA doesn't click for a lot of other people either. The cure for
alcoholism isn't group meetings or drugs: it's for the alcoholic to
genuinely want to stop drinking. That's why George Best is dead and
I'm still here. Nobody and nothing can stop an alcoholic from
drinking except the resolute decision of the individual.

I didn't stop when family, friends, girlfriends, work colleagues,
psychiatrists and counselors pleaded with me to get help. I didn't
stop when I started spitting up blood, having to leave work early
because of the previous night's drinking, when my hands trembled at
breakfast, when I started having blackouts or when I started
regularly vomiting blood.

No, I stopped when I vomited a scary amount of blood, started
hallucinating flocks of blue birds flying around my bedroom after a
day and a half without a drink, was shaking head to toe and couldn't
stand up because I was so sick. I stopped when I was admitted into
A&E at the age of 24 with internal bleeding. I stopped when I found
myself lying in a hospital bed, terrified that I was going to die.

Erika Dyck should forget about LSD or any other quick-fix "cures". If
an alcoholic doesn't want to stop drinking, then it's a lost cause.