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Tag: Psychedelic drugs

  • The Future of Mental-Health Drugs Is Trip-Free Psychedelics

    The Future of Mental-Health Drugs Is Trip-Free Psychedelics

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    One of my chronically depressed patients recently found a psychoactive drug that works for him after decades of searching. He took some psilocybin from a friend and experienced what he deemed a miraculous improvement in his mood. “It was like taking off a dark pair of sunglasses,” he told me in a therapy session. “Everything suddenly seemed brighter.” The trip, he said, gave him new insight into his troubled relationships with his grown children and even made him feel connected to strangers.

    I don’t doubt my patient’s improvement—his anxiety, world-weariness, and self-doubt seemed to have evaporated within hours of taking psilocybin, an effect that has continued for at least three months. But I’m not convinced that his brief, oceanic experience was the source of the magic. In fact, some neuroscientists now believe that the transcendent, reality-warping trip is just a side effect of psychedelics—one that isn’t sufficient or even necessary to produce the mental-health benefits the drugs seem to provide.

    For several years, researchers have understood that the hallucinatory effects of psychedelics can, in theory, be separated from the other ways the drugs affect our mental state and brain structure. But until recently, they have not been able to design a psychedelic that reliably produces only the neurocognitive effects and not the hallucinatory ones. That may soon change. A new generation of nonhallucinogenic psychedelics, at least one of which is currently being tested in humans, aims to provide all of the mental-health benefits of LSD, psilocybin, or Ecstasy without the trip. Trip-free psychedelics would be a great therapeutic boon, dramatically expanding the number of people who can experience the benefits of these drugs. They might also shed new light on how much psychedelics can alleviate psychic distress—and why they do so at all.

    Over the past five years, studies have demonstrated that psilocybin has powerful antidepressant effects, and that MDMA (a.k.a. Ecstasy), in conjunction with psychotherapy, can relieve the symptoms of PTSD. Remarkably, just a few doses of either psilocybin or MDMA can produce a rapid, lasting improvement in depression and anxiety symptoms, meaning symptom relief within minutes or hours that lasts up to 12 weeks. (MDMA is what psychiatrists call an “atypical psychedelic”; it has a mix of psychedelic-like and amphetamine-like effects, producing a feeling of bliss rather than a transcendent or mystical state.) The FDA is widely expected to approve MDMA for supervised use sometime in 2024—an extraordinary turnabout for drugs that have long been stigmatized for their potential (if rare) serious harms.

    From a clinical perspective, this psychedelic revolution is potentially miraculous. An estimated 23 percent of Americans have a mental illness, and a considerable number of them, like my patient, don’t get sufficient relief from therapy or existing medications. Drugs like psilocybin, ayahuasca, and LSD could help many of these patients—but others won’t be able to tolerate the trip. (By “trip,” I mean the variety of altered mental states that psychedelic drugs can cause, such as the transcendence and mystical experience of LSD and psilocybin, and the bliss and social openness of MDMA.) Drug-induced hallucinations are known to give certain people—like those with psychotic disorders or severe personality disorders—extreme anxiety or even lead to a psychotic break. That’s why clinical trials of psychedelics typically exclude those patients.

    I don’t mean to discount the delight and power of a transcendent hallucination. Many people who’ve tripped on psychedelics describe the experience as among the most meaningful of their life. And in several studies of psilocybin for depression, the intensity of the trip correlates with the magnitude of the therapeutic effect. A trip is an extraordinary, consciousness-expanding experience that can offer the tripper new insight into her life and emotions. It also feels pretty damn good. But it’s far from the only effect the drugs have on the human brain.

    During a trip, psychedelics are silently doing something even more remarkable than warping reality: They are rapidly inducing a state of neuroplasticity, in which the brain can more easily reorganize its structure and function. (Microdosing enthusiasts, who take subtherapeutic doses of drugs like psilocybin, claim to experience enhanced creativity. They may be getting neuroplastic effects without a trip, but as yet, little scientific evidence backs up that idea.) Neuroplasticity enhances learning, memory, and our ability to respond and adapt to our environment—and could be central to the therapeutic effects of psychedelics. In depression, for example, the prefrontal cortex (the brain’s reasoner in chief) loses some of its executive control over the limbic system (the brain’s emotional center). Drugs that enhance neuroplasticity allow new connections to be formed between the regions, which can help reset the relationship and put the prefrontal cortex back in control of emotion.

    Like MDMA, ketamine—the animal tranquilizer, surgical anesthetic, and dissociative party drug that was also approved as a rapidly acting antidepressant in 2019—typically doesn’t produce hallucinations. But it does create a dissociative mental state, and it’s known to make neurons sprout new spines within hours of administration, a structural change that’s been linked with a reduction in depression-related behavior in animals. In humans, ketamine has been shown to boost mood—even if it’s administered when patients are unconscious. Several studies show that patients who receive ketamine during surgery wake up happier than they were before the operation. This suggests that you don’t need to consciously experience the dissociative effects in order to get the antidepressant benefits.

    Scientists are on their way to finding out for sure. For the first time, researchers have purposively developed psychedelic drugs that appear to bring about the neuroplastic effects without producing a trip. These drugs stimulate the same serotonin receptor as traditional psychedelics: 5-HT2A, which, when triggered, causes the brain to produce more of a compound called BDNF, a kind of brain fertilizer that promotes neuronal growth and connectivity. But the nonhallucinogenic versions activate 5-HT2A without leading to a trip. (Binding and activating receptors isn’t an all-or-nothing phenomenon; different drugs can bind the same receptor in different ways, producing very different effects.)

    Some of these trip-free psychedelics are new inventions. Last year, for example, scientists synthesized a new nonhallucinogenic psychedelic by imitating lisuride, an analog of LSD. (An analog is a chemical that is structurally very similar to the original compound, but has been modified to have a different function.) It doesn’t have a name yet—just a serial number, IHCH-7113—but it’s being studied in animals.

    Other trip-free psychedelics have been around for decades, if not recognized as such: 2-Br-LSD, another nonhallucinogenic analog of LSD, was first synthesized in 1957 by the same chemist who created LSD. (It was meant to treat migraine.) Recent experiments show that 2-Br-LSD, like LSD, relieves depressive behavior in mice. But unlike LSD, it doesn’t make the mice twitch their heads—a sign that a substance will give humans hallucinations and other psychotic symptoms. More than 60 years after 2-Br-LSD’s invention, the Canadian company BetterLife Pharma is planning to study it as a treatment for major depression and anxiety.

    LSD isn’t the only psychedelic inspiring imitators. Delix Therapeutics, a biotech company based in Boston, is using animal models to study tabernanthalog, which is an analog of the active psychedelic in ibogaine. Tabernanthalog has acute antidepressant and neuroplastic effects in animal models, and, like 2-Br-LSD, it doesn’t cause head twitching. Delix is also testing a drug that it’s calling DLX-1, which David Olson, one of Delix’s co-founders, told me is the first nonhallucinogenic psychedelic to be tested in humans; Phase 1 studies, he said, are nearly completed. Olson, who is also the director of the Institute for Psychedelics and Neurotherapeutics at UC Davis, calls the drugs he works on “psychoplastogens,” for their rapid neuroplasticity-inducing effects. He said that other nonhallucinogenic psychoplastogens that the company is working on are “close to entering clinical trials,” though how soon any of them might reach the market is unclear.

    As of yet, the federal government has provided little funding for nonhallucinogenic-psychedelics research. Delix and other makers of these new psychedelics will have to submit an application to the FDA to get their drug approved, which generally requires that the new drug beats a placebo control in two randomized clinical trials. This can be a slow process, but the FDA can expedite it by designating the drug a “breakthrough therapy,” which is exactly what it did in 2018 with psilocybin.

    In clinical trials, nontrip psychedelics will have at least one major advantage over their trip-inducing analogs: They can more easily be placebo-tested. Classic psychedelic research has been bedeviled by the simple fact that it is virtually impossible not to know that you are taking a classic psychedelic. Indeed, in clinical trials of MDMA and psilocybin, more than 90 percent of subjects who received the treatment correctly guessed that the drug they were given was real. This sort of defeats the purpose of placebo-testing psychedelics at all, because participants who receive the real drugs will expect to feel better. But the new nontrip psychedelics don’t produce the transcendent mental states that tend to “unblind” research subjects. They might produce more typical drug side effects, such as dry mouth or sedation, but that’s a far cry from a mystical experience.

    Nontrip psychedelics may also have it easier with respect to regulation. If they don’t make you high or produce a transcendent state, they’ll likely have little appeal as recreational drugs. The Drug Enforcement Administration classifies LSD and psilocybin as Schedule I drugs, which makes them difficult for researchers to study and doctors to prescribe. Even ketamine is Schedule III and must be administered in a medical setting, which may be inconvenient for patients. Perhaps the DEA will take more kindly to nontrip psychedelics; if so, they’d be easier to access for patients and researchers alike. Plus, nonhallucinogenic psychedelics would not require the time and expense of a guide to monitor the experience. All said, the nontrip psychedelics might end up being a more popular, better-researched choice than traditional ones.

    If the FDA really does approve MDMA next year, psychiatrists will have plenty of reason to celebrate. But I suspect that the future of psychedelic medicine will lean toward the wonder of pure neuroplastic potential and away from transcendence. Psychedelic trips will probably never disappear from society—for one thing, they are viewed as essential to some religious and cultural rituals. But perhaps they’ll come to be seen as less like therapy, and more like good old-fashioned fun.

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    Richard A. Friedman

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  • Psychedelics Open Your Brain. You Might Not Like What Falls In.

    Psychedelics Open Your Brain. You Might Not Like What Falls In.

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    If you’ve ever been to London, you know that navigating its wobbly grid, riddled with curves and dead-end streets, requires impressive spatial memory. Driving around London is so demanding, in fact, that in 2006 researchers found that it was linked with changes in the brains of the city’s cab drivers: Compared with Londoners who drove fixed routes, cabbies had a larger volume of gray matter in the hippocampus, a brain region crucial to forming spatial memory. The longer the cab driver’s tenure, the greater the effect.

    The study is a particularly evocative demonstration of neuroplasticity: the human brain’s innate ability to change in response to environmental input (in this case, the spatially demanding task of driving a cab all over London). That hard-won neuroplasticity required years of mental and physical practice. Wouldn’t it be nice to get the same effects without so much work?

    To hear some people tell it, you can: Psychedelic drugs such as psilocybin, LSD, ayahuasca, and Ecstasy, along with anesthetics such as ketamine, can enhance a user’s neuroplasticity within hours of administration. In fact, some users take psychedelics for the express purpose of making their brain a little more malleable. Just drop some acid, the thinking goes, and your brain will rewire itself—you’ll be smarter, fitter, more creative, and self-aware. You might even get a transcendent experience. Popular media abound with anecdotes suggesting that microdosing LSD or psilocybin can expand divergent thinking, a more free and associative type of thinking that some psychologists link with creativity.

    Research suggests that psychedelic-induced neuroplasticity can indeed enhance specific types of learning, particularly in terms of overcoming fear and anxiety associated with past trauma. But claims about the transformative, brain-enhancing effects of psychedelics are, for the most part, overstated. We don’t really know yet how much microdosing, or a full-blown trip, will change the average person’s mental circuitry. And there’s reason to suspect that, for some people, such changes may be actively harmful.

    There is nothing new about the notion that the human and animal brain are pliant in response to everyday experience and injury. The philosopher and psychologist William James is said to have first used the term plasticity back in 1890 to describe changes in neural pathways that are linked to the formation of habits. Now we understand that these changes take place not only between neurons but also within them: Individual cells are capable of sprouting new connections and reorganizing in response to all kinds of experiences. Essentially, this is a neural response to learning, which psychedelics can rev up.

    We also understand how potent psychedelic drugs can be in inducing changes to the brain. Injecting psilocybin into a mouse can stimulate neurons in the frontal cortex to grow by about 10 percent and sprout new spines, projections that foster connections to other neurons. It also alleviated their stress-related behaviors—effects that persisted for more than a month, indicating enduring structural change linked with learning. Presumably, a similar effect takes place in humans. (Comparable studies on humans would be impossible to conduct, because investigating changes in a single neuron would require, well, sacrificing the subject.)

    The thing is, all those changes aren’t necessarily all good. Neuroplasticity just means that your brain—and your mind—is put into a state where it is more easily influenced. The effect is a bit like putting a glass vase back into the kiln, which makes it pliable and easy to reshape. Of course you can make the vase more functional and beautiful, but you might also turn it into a mess. Above all else, psychedelics make us exquisitely impressionable, thanks to their speed of action and magnitude of effect, though their ultimate effect is still heavily dependent on context and influence.

    We have all experienced heightened neuroplasticity during the so-called sensitive periods of brain development, which typically unfold between the ages of 1 and 4 when the brain is uniquely responsive to environmental input. This helps explain why kids effortlessly learn all kinds of things, like how to ski or speak a new language. But even in childhood, you don’t acquire your knowledge and skills by magic; you have to do something in a stimulating enough environment to leverage this neuroplastic state. If you have the misfortune of being neglected or abused during your brain’s sensitive periods, the effects are likely to be adverse and enduring—probably more so than if the same events happened later in life.

    Being in a neuroplastic state enhances our ability to learn, but it might also burn in negative or traumatic experiences—or memories—if you happen to have them while taking a psychedelic. Last year, a patient of mine, a woman in her early 50s, decided to try psilocybin with a friend. The experience was quite pleasurable until she started to recall memories of her emotionally abusive father, who had an alcohol addiction. In the weeks following her psilocybin exposure, she had vivid and painful recollections of her childhood, which precipitated an acute depression.

    Her experience might have been very different—perhaps even positive—if she’d had a guide or therapist with her while she was tripping to help her reappraise these memories and make them less toxic. But without a mediating positive influence, she was left to the mercy of her imagination. This must have been just the sort of situation legislators in Oregon had in mind last month when they legalized recreational psilocybin use, but only in conjunction with a licensed guide. It’s the right idea.

    In truth, researchers and clinicians haven’t a clue whether people who microdose frequently with psychedelics—and are thus walking around in a state of enhanced neuroplasticity—are more vulnerable to the encoding of traumatic events. In order to find out, you would have to compare a group of people who microdose against a group of people who don’t over a period of time and see, for example, if they differ in rates of PTSD. Crucially, you’d have to randomly assign people to either microdose or abstain—not simply let them pick whether they want to try tripping. In the absence of such a study, we are all currently involved in a large, uncontrolled social experiment. The results will inevitably be messy and inconclusive.

    Even if opening your brain to change were all to the good, the promise of neuroplasticity without limit—that you can rejuvenate and remodel the brain at any age—far exceeds scientific evidence. Despite claims to the contrary, each of us has an upper limit to how malleable we can make our brain. The sensitive periods, when we hit our maximum plasticity, is a finite window of opportunity that slams shut as the brain matures. We progressively lose neuroplasticity as we age. Of course we can continue to learn—it just takes more effort than when we were young. Part of this change is structural: At 75, your hippocampus contains neurons that are a lot less connected to one another than they were at 25. That’s one of the major reasons older people find that their memory is not as sharp as it used to be. You may enhance those connections slightly with a dose of psilocybin, but you simply can’t make your brain behave as if it’s five decades younger.

    This reality has never stopped a highly profitable industry from catering to people’s anxieties and hopes—especially seniors’. You don’t have to search long online before you find all kinds of supplements claiming to keep your brain young and sharp. Brain-training programs go even further, purporting to rewire your brain and boost your cognition (sound familiar?), when in reality the benefits are very modest, and limited to whatever cognitive task you’ve practiced. Memorizing a string of numbers will make you better at memorizing numbers; it won’t transfer to another skill and make you better at, say, chess.

    We lose neuroplasticity as we age for good reason. To retain our experience, we don’t want our brain to rewire itself too much. Yes, we lose cognitive fluidity along the way, but we gain knowledge too. That’s not a bad trade-off. After all, it’s probably more valuable to an adult to be able to use all of their accumulated knowledge than to be able to solve a novel mathematical problem or learn a new skill. More important, our very identity is encoded in our neural architecture—something we wouldn’t want to tinker with lightly.

    At their best, psychedelics and other neuroplasticity-enhancing drugs can do some wonderful things, such as speed up the treatment of depression, quell anxiety in terminally ill patients, and alleviate the worst symptoms of PTSD. That’s enough reason to research their uses and let patients know psychedelics are an option for psychiatric treatment when the evidence supports it. But limitless drug-induced self-enhancement is simply an illusion.

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    Richard A. Friedman

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