Reflections from Veteran Ketamine-Assisted Psychotherapy Group Sessions
“You are not alone. Healing begins in the circle.”
ReNew Wellness
June 2025 – February 2026
About This Journal
What follows is a living record of something rare: veterans healing together.
The journal entries in this collection were written during and after group Ketamine-Assisted Psychotherapy (KAP) sessions, held over the course of nine months at ReNew Wellness. They capture — as faithfully as possible — the courage, vulnerability, and transformation that unfolded in the circle.
Ketamine-Assisted Psychotherapy is an emerging and evidence-informed treatment that combines the neurobiological effects of ketamine with psychotherapeutic support. In a group setting, this work becomes something even more powerful: a shared container for healing, where veterans who have spent years in isolation, hypervigilance, and pain begin to find — sometimes for the first time — that they are not alone.
These entries are de-identified to protect the privacy of participants. Dates reflect the month and year only. Quotes are included with care, as authentic reflections of the lived experience of healing — not clinical data, but human truth.
This journal is offered to the veteran community, to families and loved ones, to clinicians and policymakers, and to anyone who believes that healing is possible — even when it is hard, even when it is slow, even when it doesn’t look the way we expect.
The circle is open. You are welcome here.
June 2025
Veteran Group KAP | Theme: Softening the Lines Written Too Sharply
“Healing doesn’t demand erasure of the past, but rather an easing of the harshness with which we have judged ourselves.”
Tonight’s group session with our veterans was truly profound. The level of vulnerability displayed by each participant was exceptional, with many bravely sharing their deep-seated pain and long-standing fears around safety. Chronic physical pain, emotional wounds, and isolation were named openly, and several veterans reflected on how their pain has begun to soften through connection and care.
A core theme that wove through the evening was “softening the lines that were written too sharply” — speaking to the rigid narratives trauma can carve into the nervous system. There was a collective recognition that healing doesn’t demand erasure of the past, but rather an easing of the harshness with which they have judged themselves and been judged by the world.
Isolation emerged as one of the most heartfelt topics. So many in the room knew all too well the deadening silence of disconnection — how it drains color from life and feeds despair. And yet, the group did not stop at naming the problem. Together, they explored tangible ways to break that cycle: the power of small daily acts of reaching out, the profound shift that comes from sitting in a room like this one, and the radical idea that they do not have to do this alone anymore.
A particularly moving moment came when a veteran who had lived in near-total seclusion for years — no close friends, no family nearby, few resources, and a heart heavy with loneliness — walked through the door. His presence alone was a victory against the pull of isolation. As he found his voice among the group, he did more than speak; he inspired. His raw honesty and willingness to stay present despite his anxiety was nothing less than heroic. By the end of the evening, he expressed profound gratitude for the space the group had co-created together.
Something remarkable unfolded as stories were shared: a collective shift that felt akin to a shared journey. Emotions rose and fell in synchrony. Veterans spoke, listened, wept, and even laughed. Some described feeling another’s pain as if it were their own — an empathic resonance that softened the edges of their own suffering.
As the circle closed, gratitude flowed freely. Veterans stood, shook hands, and embraced each other — a simple gesture that carried the weight of years of guarded silence. They thanked each other for showing up, for risking vulnerability, and for proving once again that healing does not happen in isolation, but through connection.
July 2025 – Session One
Veteran Group KAP | Theme: Masks, Starships, and Breaking the Silence
“Somebody hopped on my starship — and the funny thing is, I didn’t want anybody to hop on my starship. But tonight I was crying and being vulnerable, and I loved it.”
This was the largest group session to date, with seven veterans present, including three new participants. A new process was introduced — using shared blow-up mattresses in the integration space to keep everyone in a collective healing environment. Veterans arrived guarded and nervous, and the facilitator herself noted needing some time to settle in after a full day. The group chose to move forward with the session, and what unfolded exceeded all expectation.
Emotional waves moved through the room. Veterans were supported through breath and grounding touch — a hand held, a hand placed over the chest, a calm and steady presence reminding each person to breathe. One veteran, tearful and held, said simply: “I don’t like crying, but this is great.”
Later, he shared something that moved the entire room: during his journey, he felt a sense of shared experience with another veteran who had been struggling. He described it as someone hopping on his starship — and the revelation that despite years of self-imposed isolation, he had not only welcomed it, but found it deeply healing.
The theme of masks and exhaustion ran through the group. Veterans spoke about the persona they’ve had to wear — the tough, unfeeling soldier — and how it has cost them dearly. “It’s exhausting,” one veteran said, “having to wear this mask all the time. I’m tired of it.” Others nodded in unanimous recognition.
All of them admitted they had been resistant to coming to group. And yet, they showed up anyway. Veterans reflected that they arrive in darker places and leave lighter — physically and emotionally. Some are reconnecting with their families, attending concerts with their daughters again, slowly regaining a sense of safety and agency in the world.
The energy at the close of the session was remarkable: a room full of veterans, many of whom had spent years in isolation, sitting together on a shared wavelength — full of healing, hope, and palpable connection.
July 2025 – Session Two
Veteran Group KAP | Theme: Being Seen, Anger, and the Barrel Roll
“It’s like screaming at the top of your lungs and no one is hearing you.”
This evening brought powerful insights around the deep human need to be seen and heard. One veteran opened the circle with a story he had heard about a man who stole a plane — performing barrel rolls and dangerous maneuvers not out of recklessness, but desperation. A man who felt so invisible, so unheard, that he had to commandeer an aircraft just to make someone notice. The veteran said he understood that impulse completely.
Others agreed immediately. The metaphor of the barrel roll — of doing something extreme just to be witnessed — became one of the session’s central threads.
Reflection cards drawn before the journey brought themes of self-awareness, patience, intensity, and anger. Veterans discussed how difficult self-awareness has been to cultivate, but how much they are trying to notice their patterns without judgment. One reflected on his angry part not as an enemy, but as something to observe with curiosity.
Veterans spoke openly about the peace and comfort that surfaces during ketamine journeys — and the heartbreak of feeling that shield return afterward. One named it as the “fake facade” reassembling itself: the hardened exterior that protects the tender interior, but also locks healing out.
Death and the relationship to mortality came up in an unexpected and meaningful way. Several veterans described how confronting death — both in war and in the inner landscapes of their journeys — has paradoxically made them feel more alive.
One veteran spoke of encountering his younger parts during his journeys — of going on walks with the boy he once was. Another described a moment during a journey when fireworks became gunshots, and how profound it was to find that transformation meaningful rather than purely terrifying.
A veteran who has been dismissed by professionals and told he doesn’t have PTSD spoke about the devastation of that invalidation. “I’m just labeled the angry guy,” he said. The group held that truth with him. They understood.
The room moved in waves — some more vocal, some quieter, all present. Listening, learning, and reflecting. Another powerful and beautiful night of healing.
August 2025
Veteran Group KAP | Theme: A Shared, Felt Sense of Peace
“We are healing each other. I don’t know you, but you’re my brother.”
The theme that emerged tonight was unmistakable: a shared, felt sense of peace. One veteran said it best — “We are healing each other. I don’t know you, but you’re my brother.” That single sentence set the tone for the entire evening. There was a deep appreciation for watching each other grow and holding space for one another through this profound process.
The group reflected on how ketamine can open mental and emotional windows — sometimes just one or two, and other times so many it can feel overwhelming. Still, many expressed that they are learning to recognize exactly what they need, even amid the chaos. This awareness is itself a form of healing.
One participant shared how stepping away from social media helped him avoid what he called the “death scroll” — others nodded, reflecting on how overstimulation can drown out the very peace they are seeking. Key themes included the practice of slowing down, working through anger, and cultivating patience — not as passive acts, but as intentional efforts to reclaim agency.
A meaningful moment came when someone drew a reflection card that said: “Remain grounded. A new start is coming.” He shared that in Iraq, he was taught not to think for himself. Now, he’s in the process of unlearning — grounding himself in a new narrative where agency, self-awareness, and growth are possible.
The barrel roll metaphor from a previous session resurfaced. Veterans talked about shifting from messages of hate and war to messages of love, friendship, and safety. There was a strong collective yearning to live from the heart, not just survive from the gut.
One veteran vulnerably shared that he feels like he carries irreparable damage — an anchor so heavy and immovable that he can barely breathe. He questioned how to move forward with that weight. The group gently held that question alongside him, offering not solutions, but solidarity.
In one beautiful exchange, a veteran expressed joy and positivity, only to be met by another who said he wasn’t quite there yet — but that he deeply values the light the first man carries. “It gives me hope,” he said. That moment encapsulated everything this group stands for: honesty, respect for different emotional spaces, and belief in each other’s healing.
September 2025
Women’s Veteran Group KAP | Theme: Mindfulness, Balance, and Shared Connection
“Wait a minute — I am the storm.”
Tonight marked the second women’s Veteran KAP group, and the evening was rich with moments of mindfulness, courage, and shared experience.
Several participants described serene, peaceful stretches of their journeys, while others encountered fear or discomfort. Yet all agreed on one thing: within this circle, they were not alone. The group held a shared sense of community that made even the hardest moments feel safer.
A recurring theme was control. One veteran realized she doesn’t have to be in control of everything. Another admitted she prefers to maintain control. A third shared she longs to feel more in control of her life. Together, the group acknowledged that none of these perspectives are wrong — that healing might actually mean moving fluidly between surrender and agency at different times.
One veteran introduced a powerful metaphor: a Venn diagram of the mind. One circle represents the logical mind, the other the emotional mind. Where they overlap lies the wise mind — the space where balance, clarity, and wisdom can be found. This resonated deeply, especially as participants reflected on how often they move between emotional extremes.
For one veteran attending her first group session, the difference from solo KAP was profound. She admitted that in solo journeys she sometimes feels starkly alone — floating in a vast, frightening universe. In the group, she felt safe, connected, and held.
Another woman opened up about grieving her father, who passed away a year ago. Many of her ketamine journeys have circled around death — her father’s, and her own fear of mortality. Tonight, she described a moment during her journey where she felt as though she might be dying, but instead of fear, she felt love. Smiling, she extended her arms outward — as if sending love to her father and to all those she cherishes.
Other metaphors arose with quiet power: one veteran, caught in the middle of inner chaos, paused and realized — “Wait a minute — I am the storm.” Another described her garden as her sacred place, a space she returned to in her journey where she could sit with grief, fear, and hopelessness, and simply be. Safe, held, present.
It was a night filled with wisdom, tenderness, and collective strength. These women reminded the circle that healing does not mean avoiding fear or grief — but creating spaces where even the heaviest emotions can be held with compassion.
October 2025
Male Veteran Group KAP | Theme: Church, Anchors, and Brotherhood
“This is church. This is church for me.”
This long-standing group experienced one of its most powerful sessions yet. Seven veterans gathered, most of them long-time participants, and the depth of connection was palpable from the moment the circle opened.
The group entered directly into the journey, accompanied by a playlist brought by one of the returning veterans. After an hour of inner reflection, everyone gathered back in the circle, where the poem “A Party for the Broken” by Tom Hirons was read aloud. Each veteran asked for a copy. Every one of them said it resonated — that its words spoke directly to their lived experience.
One of the most profound moments came from a veteran who had never before felt comfortable in the main group space. He always stayed tucked away in a smaller pod. Tonight, for the first time, he chose to sit in the recliner in the main circle. He vulnerably shared that he had been overwhelmed by suicidal thoughts, and that finding spirituality again through these sessions had literally saved his life. With tears, he told the group: “This is church. This is church for me.” He spoke of his spiritual battle with hate, and of his efforts to let it go. In response, another veteran embraced him — which sparked a wave of handshakes and hugs throughout the circle.
Others expressed a new sense of confidence — a first for some. Veterans echoed that each time they attend, they leave feeling more grounded, more thankful, more themselves. Several admitted it had been their roughest month in a long time, but emphasized that being with other veterans was what healed them. One stated plainly: “There is no better place than this.” Another said his heart has been broken, but when he comes to group, he listens, he grows, and he heals.
One veteran who had felt lost and purposeless after war shared that he was rediscovering meaning through his love for his children. Another described the group as the safest place on the planet. He revisited the anchor analogy from a previous session — trauma, hate, and anger as a heavy anchor being slowly and carefully lifted, bit by bit. Another veteran added that this metaphor had stayed with him for weeks, helping him name his own experience. Though fearful, he is beginning to turn the weight of the anchor into something else.
The group encouraged each other: “Keep going. Don’t give up. It’s not too late.” One reflected: “You find it when you find it — and when you find peace, it’s never too late.” They spoke of brotherhood: “We’re all broken in different ways, but we have to show up for each other.” One veteran reflected on the journey from a life of war to finding peace in collective healing.
One veteran who typically does his deeper work in solo sessions shared how different and impactful the group experience felt. Another referenced the film Inside Out as a metaphor for the ketamine journey — the different emotional parts of the mind working together toward wholeness.
The barrel roll metaphor met the anchor metaphor, and someone offered this: “Maybe we can land the plane together. Maybe we can pull up the anchors together.”
There was laughter, tears, pain, and relief. There was love, peace, and profound unity. It was a night that defied words — indescribable — and one that will not be forgotten.
December 2025
Male Veteran Group KAP | Theme: Heavy Hearts, Younger Selves, and Quiet Strength
“Maybe we don’t have to carry the raft forever.”
Tonight’s session carried a heaviness the moment everyone arrived. It was the first meeting after the Thanksgiving holiday, and the emotional weight of the season — family expectations, difficult inner work, and the strain of ongoing healing — was evident. Many shared the challenge of feeling misunderstood by those around them. Fear was an undercurrent: fear for their children, fear of the unknown, fear of unraveling before they’ve learned how to rebuild.
The theme centered around a gentle image on the handout: Eeyore sitting with his younger self by a lake, paired with the idea of thanking the younger part who tried their best. What seemed simple at first opened a meaningful doorway. The group talked about learning to offer compassion to the younger, fearful, or angry parts of themselves — the parts that carried them through trauma but were never truly seen or heard.
Many reflected on how difficult it is to face what these journeys bring forward. Yet they also recognized that this noticing — this willingness to witness their inner landscape — is the healing work. It is not regression. It is courage.
One veteran shared the emotional weight of having entered the military as a teenager, and now seeing his own son at that same age. Others spoke about the guilt they carry for how their trauma has affected their loved ones. There was a sense of collective understanding: healing doesn’t happen in isolation, and the people around them often need education, compassion, and support as much as the veterans themselves.
A metaphor guided the discussion: crossing a dangerous river on a raft built from reeds and sticks. The raft — their survival strategies, their defenses, their hardened ways of coping — once kept them alive. But the group explored the idea that reaching the far shore means they may not need to carry that heavy raft forever. Maybe they can honor what kept them alive, and slowly begin to put some of the weight down.
And woven into the circle was the quiet strength of a veteran who returns session after session. He speaks less than others, but when he does, it is with sincerity and depth. The group feels his presence — calm, grounding, supportive. His consistency is its own kind of medicine. He reminds the group that healing isn’t always loud. Not all breakthroughs come with tears or metaphors. Sometimes, healing is simply returning, again and again, to a place where your soul feels held.
By the end of the night, there was laughter, tears, heaviness, and relief. Veterans reflected on their journeys — from childhood to war to fatherhood — and on how this circle has become a place where they can finally breathe, be witnessed, and heal together. A night of profound brotherhood, honesty, and shared humanity.
February 2026
Male Veteran Group KAP | Theme: Moral Injury, Chronic Pain, and the Search for Peace
“It’s like that part of my brain is just gone. I don’t have that need to escape anymore.”
After nearly three months since the last gathering, the veterans returned to the circle at the end of February. The reunion carried a sense of anticipation, relief, and steady commitment. Several participants shared that during the break they had written letters to the VA in support of continued access to ketamine-assisted psychotherapy — a powerful testament to how meaningful this work has become in their lives.
Two new veterans joined the group, welcomed by three to four returning members who have been part of this journey for nearly a year. The group reflected different stages of healing. Many are navigating severe chronic pain from injuries sustained during military service — pain that is not only physical, but deeply intertwined with identity, purpose, and loss.
The theme for the evening was moral injury: the experience of having one’s core belief systems disrupted or violated, often by authority figures or systems of power. For many veterans, this concept resonated immediately. Conversations centered around how moral injury can fracture one’s sense of self, trust, and meaning — and how being stripped of your own agency by those with power over you leaves wounds that go far deeper than the visible ones.
Returning members gently prepared the new participants for what to expect: the unusual yet meaningful aspects of group journeys, the sense of shared experience, music that seems to bind the room together, a palpable sense of cohesion and belonging. Veterans reflected again on a consistent truth: when they feel safe, they are able to go deeper. Safety is the gateway to the work.
One veteran who has struggled significantly over the past year shared a profound internal shift. He is beginning to recognize that peace cannot be found externally — through circumstances, relationships, or control — but must be cultivated from within. Despite ongoing family stressors, he spoke openly about craving peace and actively working toward it. The group witnessed this growth with respect and quiet encouragement.
The support among the men was unmistakable throughout the evening. Veterans responded to one another with genuine resonance — “I felt that,” “That really hit home.” One member struggling with intense physical pain was met with immediate compassion and practical support. After group, veterans stayed behind exchanging phone numbers, continuing conversations, sharing that they feel a real sense of belonging here.
Several reflected that after nearly a year of participation, they can see the arc of their own healing — greater insight, emotional awareness, and self-reflection than when they began. One veteran shared a particularly powerful milestone: he no longer feels the urge to drink excessively, something that had been a daily coping mechanism for years. He described it as though a part of his brain that once needed alcohol to escape is simply no longer there. The craving has quieted. The need to numb has softened.
After months apart, the circle reopened not with hesitation, but with depth. The veterans returned ready — ready to support one another, ready to continue the work, ready to move toward peace.
These stories are shared to honor the courage of those who showed up, spoke honestly, and chose to heal — together.
ReNew Wellness • Veteran KAP Program