The Ibogaine Experience.

The following is an account of an ibogaine flood dose for psychospiritual purposes. Ibogaine is not legal in the United States, but is legal in various other countries. It is used predominantly to eliminate opiate addiction, but is also used for psychospiritual growth (and has been used by the Bwiti tribe for everything from recovering ailments to initiation ceremonies as early as age 11)

I have worked around ibogaine a lot more than most — a business partner and friend of mine and I established Ibogaine Research Institute (a nonprofit) 2 years ago with the goal to bring awareness to ibogaine as a solution to opiate addiction.

All of my experience in the subject was around addiction — ibogaine is known to be 90% effective in ELIMINATING opiate addiction (much higher rate of success than standard addiction treatments, where 90% of patients return to opiates) — without the need for lifelong medications like buprenorphine (Suboxone).

Addicts who undergo ibogaine treatment have always said how it’s a new life — everything must be rebuilt again post-treatment. In my mind, I thought, well, duh — 24 hours ago they were injecting heroin and couldn’t function without it; they wake up with no need for it and they kind of … need to rebuild their life...makes sense.

Ibogaine for psychospiritual growth

I did not think ibogaine would be so drastic when used for work outside of addiction. In the “psychedelic communities” (outside the US), more people have been doing it for spiritual growth as of late. For some reason, ibogaine has always called to me (as opposed to, for example, ayahuasca, which basically screams STAY THE F**CK AWAY anytime I even ponder it).

Frankly, it’s been calling to me for about a year — but I knew that it’s a very vulnerable space to be in, and that you truly need about 4 days (minimum) of ZERO responsibility (in my case, zero work) — and that’s something I have NOT been able to give myself. Recently, I reached a point where it screamed so loud that I couldn’t ignore it anymore, and for the first time in about 2 years, I took time away from work .

I went in with zero research beyond what I knew for addiction treatment (post-treatment, I realize it probably wouldn’t have changed anything, as there’s really very little about it — the only things I’ve been learning are from the integration coaches and doctors that I’ve been speaking to over the course of the last few days)

It is a car wash for your brain.

And it is a complete purge of absolutely everything.

In my case, it was (and continues to be) an endless purge of energies, feelings, and all-encompassing ick that just keeps coming.

I consider myself to be an aware person — I know that a lot of my behaviors are patterns that have been built as defense mechanisms since childhood. A psilocybin journey (hero dose) is what showed that to me quite clearly a few years back. But this journey is what removed the ability to even fall back on those patterns.

The ibogaine difference

Just seeing and becoming aware of patterns didn’t implement full change. It did implement a deeper understanding and a desire to work on that — but I can honestly say that I don’t think I had the power to completely remove the binding of that patterning — no matter how much meditation, grounding, spiritual guidance, and all that jazz that I employed.

Ibogaine ripped the patterning off. It took the action that I was unable to.

I am about 50% of the person I was before.

And not because I am a different person with new eyes, but rather because I have returned to a state of “newbornness” in some aspects of my being. Many people refer to “ibogaine” as “ibeginagain” — I knew this, but again, only on a treatment-for-drug-addiction level.

The 32-Hour Experience

Hours 0–24: the journey

Be warned — this is not a short trip by any means, and you certainly do not leave it with an afterglow. You will leave with tears and confusion that will only make sense in the weeks after. In the addiction treatment community, it was always referred to as “an overnight experience,” but think of it more as a 2-night experience.

Ibogaine hits within about 1 hour of consuming the substance. You lose your ability to stand. You need to crawl the bathroom. However, most people do not vomit or crap themselves the way they do with ayahuasca (I did not) — this was, honestly, part of what drew me to ibogaine.

There are visions. And there is loss of ability to move — but not completely (you can still crawl to pee). A large danger with ibogaine is its effects on the heart, which is why it should never be done without medical supervision (and in a place where it is legal). My heartbeat did increase at the beginning of the journey, but only by about 2–3 BPM average for an hour, after which it returned to normal. I wore a heart monitor the entire time to ensure all was well.

Note: the visions end at any time. Open your eyes, and they’re gone. But the world isn’t completely clear — everything has a slightly yellow tint, and as you move, you get the sense that you’re moving through 20 dimensions at once; there’s a very trippy lag of tessellated light with every movement you make.

Everyone’s journey is different, but the general consensus among those I have spoken to (and what I experienced) is that the spirit of iboga is a they — where ayahausca is dubbed the grandmother and san pedro the grandfather, iboga is a full-on counsel of elders (nearly 1000, from what I saw).

This counsel, they say, is who is with you for the 90 days post-journey. They are what helps you integrate as the noribogaine (what ibogaine is metabolized into) floods through your body for the (approximate — again, this is still under research) 3 months post-treatment.

At the start of my experience, each counsel member’s face appeared, as if they were introducing themselves to me. The rest of the 20 or so hours was truly an epic movie of the beginning of life to the end — from the big bang to the end of civilization. This counsel guides you through and shows you how the intelligence of humanity (including everything like the coding behind NFTs and the metaverse) has always existed on a cellular level — it’s just that we’re going through the evolution of understanding it.

I did not see any visions that related directly to me, and as it began to wear off, I felt almost defeated. During my psilocybin journeys, I had been so clearly shown my past, present, and future — and how certain people, situations, and events played out from a bird’s eye view, which allowed me to make sense of patterns. But here? I just felt like I spent literally 24 hours in a movie marathon of humanity. Was it cool? Sure, I guess. But it didn’t leave me feeling any different (or so I thought).

Hours 25+: the ibogaine grey day(s)

When you look into ibogaine, you may read about the grey day. There is not enough about this out there on the internet. I assumed this grey day was just a day similar to a post-psilocybin experience day: don’t expect to answer emails or phone calls/texts, don’t expect to drive, know that your routine will be there when it’s over — today’s a day of rest.

This day… very different. And it turns out, it’s not a grey day. It’s more of a grey 3–5 days.

The day after my experience, it felt like I was a mermaid that had just gotten land-legs. Walking was…weird. I moved from bed to couch gingerly. I was in a stupor of confusion and sadness. I could eat a few berries, and was given a soothing turmeric peach smoothie, as well as lots of water.

And then came the purge. So much sadness. A quantity of emotional pain that was so intense it became physical — and felt even more painful as I tried to understand its root. Compound all the pain of losing loved ones, break ups, failures, all of it — and multiply it by nearly 1 billion. And then recognize that no matter what you try to trace this pain to, you will not be able to pinpoint it.

In my quest for understanding, I spoke to 2 wonderful ibogaine integration specialists. One very well-respected facilitator (over 20 years) refers to what was coming up as mental diarrhea. It is literally the release of every thought that no longer serves your being, every energetic attachment that’s yours and not yours that’s made its way into your being, and even ancestral trauma that’s wrapped itself around your bones.

It is a purge, and you must remind yourself not to identify with any of these thoughts or emotions. Some people vomit this up the next day, constantly. My purge was in the form of tears: waves and waves that had me wondering how it was even physically possible to cry as much as I was, because no matter how much water I kept drinking, it didn’t seem to equate.

Personally, I have struggled with anxiety and depression my entire life (diagnosed at age 13, but probably there for quite a while prior). In all seriousness, I can say that getting through those post-ibogaine days may very well allow me to get past any dark period as if it’s just a slightly overcast day (rather than a full on storm). I’ll keep you posted on that, since I’m still post-journey.

The second integration specialist I spoke to reminded me of the spirit of the Bwiti tribe and the iboga plant: their belief and practice is that of constant release. The Bwiti believe in getting anything that’s not good for you OUT. Anger? Let it out. It’s gone. There’s no harping. There’s no thinking. There’s no analysis. It’s just — out and over. I can say that this is 100% the spirit of the plant after experiencing it.

Learnings from the experience

I believe that the reason I was drawn to ibogaine is because I knew (know) that ibogaine works on addiction (specific mechanisms are still unclear — that’s one piece the psychedelic industry is exploring deeply).

Patterns ingrained since birth/early years, anxieties that feel familiar (and thus comfortable, and what the brain will relapse to), and the like are their own addictions.

Something drew me to ibogaine because of this. And in this, I discovered the barbed wire harness I had used to shape my entire being since my early years. Here’s that learning:

The Barbed Wire Harness of Perfection

I have, since childhood, always felt the need to be hyper independent. There is a lot of childhood trauma around feeling as though I wasn’t worth being in this life. My mother always questioned if the marriage and family life was right for her. I was born an empath, and picked up on that. I had this internal belief that as long as I was perfect — quiet, doing well, never needing or asking for help — I would be accepted. I would be “worth” being alive and wanted.

I formed this barbed wire of structure around myself — a suit that provided the structure of internal pressure that kept me perfect. It was a casing that kept it all together — when things weren’t perfect, I’d just tighten the barbed wire harness. It would zip me up to stand straight, get sh*t done, march on, be successful — be worthy.

The ibogaine experience showed me the pain I’ve been inflicting upon myself. I didn’t have a choice. The harness was pulled off.

It showed me I don’t want to be this alone, cold, independent, fenced off version of myself. That it’s ok to ask for help. As my guide said to me when I awoke after 24 hours of the experience: you don’t need to be so perfect.

Every single barb on the wire has been dislodged, leaving behind it a deep wound that’s raw. It’s a thorny harness I’ve held for nearly 30 years — one that pressed deeper, wounding harder, every time I would exercise longer, work harder, or put myself out there for others even more as a “perfect” response to a feeling of pain.

As it relates to friendships, I see where I’ve always felt like I am undeserving of someone being there for me just for being me. The irony is that I’ve always been the person who bends over backwards to make others feel worthy — “over indexing” in that arena, as a good friend and mentor says.

As it relates to relationships, I see where it’s honed a sense of perfection — the pressure I put on myself extends to the other, and it’s a pressure that most people have never experienced. What’s more, the empath in me picks up their internal struggles, adopting that energy as my own, and I tighten the spiky suit to keep myself together with their energetic stuff included.

The barbed wire harness has been removed. But what’s left behind is wounds. Thousands. And a being that now doesn’t have a structure — a very amoeba-like blob.

In the period after, and to anyone reading this who is experiencing this — you must remember that this is rawness, not weakness. This is the pain of thousands of wounds that are getting oxygen for the first time.

When babies are born, their skulls are not fully fused. This is so they can make it out of the birth canal. Babies must be treated with gentleness, care — they’re completely raw; they’re entering an entirely new world from a womb they’ve become accustomed to.

A friend and mentor called this “the 4th trimester” — a baby leaves the womb after the 3rd trimester into this cold, new world. The being is nearly shapeless — it needs so much tenderness, love, and support to build itself up to even keep its eyes open, hold its head up… even to sleep safely without suffocating itself.

A baby doesn’t get itself together in a week. I have to continually remind myself that I must be this gentle. Because this new body — removed from a painful internal armor — is nearly brand new.

For the first time, I sleep more than 6 hours per night (and without any sleeping pills).

For the first time, I take a midday nap if I need it.

For the first time, I am accepting every offer to help. And as another beloved friend likes to remind me: accepting help actually is a form of warmth.

Ibogaine removed the thorns that help up a veil of needless perfection.