Psilocybin ended my cigarette addiction
by Ron Cassie
Dan Kreitman, a 55-year-old upholsterer and smoker for nearly 40 years, is one of the Hopkins’ psychedelic studies living proofs. Grabbing a chair in his workshop in his Baltimore County garage, the gregarious Kreitman recounts his psilocybin sessions that were a part of the smoking cessation trials. “3 years later, I’m totally amazed by it,” he says, taking a break on a warm Saturday afternoon. “Bringing it up, I remember how good it was—and all the positive feelings come right back," adds Kreitman. “When I talk about it, I can get emotional.”
Kreitman not only wanted to quit smoking for years without success, he’d become ashamed of his habit—sneaking cigarettes when his son, daughter, and wife weren’t around. Given his age, that he didn’t eat great and was overweight, his family was also pressing him to quit. “It was my son, who was 18 then, who heard about the studies and told me.” As part of his preparation, Kreitman was asked to keep a smoking diary—writing down the times of day when he picked up a cigarette. He also went through about six to eight counseling sessions, which included guided meditation exercises in the run-up before receiving his “magic” blue capsules of psilocybin.
Kreitman actually took three capsules of psilocybin in three separate sessions, in progressively stronger doses, he believes. The first session was very positive. “My father had recently committed suicide, but no demons or dragons,” he says. “Happy thoughts.”
The second experience was more of everything. “More vivid colors, more crazy shapes.” More happy thoughts.
“The third session, I left Earth and saw infinity,” Kreitman says. “It was so intense, so holy, I don’t know how to talk about it. A lot of stars, planets, the cosmos. It was so colorful
and beautiful—I’m still blown away.
“And I saw my dad,” he continues. “He was in a boat floating down a river and he smiled and waved. I also saw an image of someone who looked like the God of the Old Testament with the white beard—the image of God I grew up with—steering the boat.”
"The overwhelming feeling," Kreitman says, "was of going out into the universe," and he wasn’t sure if he’d be coming back or not. “It didn’t matter,” he says, wiping the corner of his eye. “Everything was okay.”
"Smokers are considered good test cases of addiction because their lives are often less chaotic and they have suffered fewer acute consequences than say, a heroin addict," says Matt Johnson, a Johns Hopkins associate professor of psychiatry and lead author of the study. "Nonetheless," adds Johnson, "cigarette addiction and dependence on other substances usually involves more than physical cravings. There’s a social dynamic when two or more smokers gather. There’s also a repetitive ritualistic component that can serve as an emotional crutch throughout the day."
Both addiction and depression create a sort of self-perpetuating tunneling of the brain’s default mode—a downward spiraling in thinking patterns and behavior—that only burrows over time. "Psilocybin, on the other hand," Johnson says, "generates 'a whole lot more cross-talk across the brain,' which can have the effect of breaking apart these tunnels and dramatically shifting a subject’s perspective."
“All of a sudden people go from talking about the strange colors they’re seeing to talking about communion with a higher power. It’s this insight they experience that provides a new, ‘big picture.’ It becomes a spiritual guidepost and stays with them. They realize, ‘It’s a miracle. I can quit smoking,’” says Johnson.
Kreitman describes himself today as more in rhythm with people and the world around him. “If I’m getting off the train and someone drops something,” he says. “It’s like I’m immediately aware this person needs help and I’m bending over to help them.”
He’s also eating better and has lost 15-20 pounds. He’s down to about 180 pounds now on his 5-foot-7 frame. “But I still grab some fried chicken on the weekend when I get a chance,” he chuckled.
He says that he used to picture himself at 70, sitting on the porch with emphysema—a can of beer in hand. “Now, a whole new chapter of my life has opened up that I never expected,” Kreitman says. “Is that a religious experience? If not, I don’t know what is.”
As far as the smoking goes, he put out his last Camel on the way to the Bayview clinic before his final psilocybin session. “I don’t feel like an ex-smoker, I feel like a non-smoker—like I was never a smoker. My wife and I will be outside Giant or someplace and we’ll walk past employees out front smoking and I’ll catch myself saying to her, ‘They shouldn’t let people stand near the doors and smoke like that.’"
“She just laughs at me.”
