The Ibogaine Experience

[ Note From The "Editor": This was written by a friend of mine circa 2006 about her experience with battling heroin addiction through the use of Ibogaine therapy. I'll be leaving all the typos, punctuation errors, and run-on sentence intact for the sake of preserving how she felt she wanted the story to be told. I feel that this is important since the amount of these types of experiences is very limited. ]

I firmly believe that what saved my Life was Ibogaine. And I firmly believe that the people that have taken it, are called to it. As I sat in the filth encrusted room of the motel room 354, getting ready to inject the golden brown liquid I thought was to be my future and my death, the phone starting to ring. Unusual as the two people that actually lived in this hell hole had cell phones, so I continued to tie off and finish fixing. But the damn phone would not stop ringing and he didn’t like it. “Dude. What the fuck? Pick up the fucking phone would you?” he snapped. “Fine. Fine. Sorry.” Taking the blame because it was always my fault. I reached over, needle still in my arm, my life juice reasy to be booted, and answered. “What’s up, Junky?” said a snappy, smart, and clear headed woman on the other end. At this point, I had no clue who she was and little did I know that this woman was about to save my life. I wasn’t concerned with that very much. “Fuck you. Who are you? What the fuck do you want?” I snapped back, almost ready to put the phone down. “Oh. We’re grumpy, I see. Well why don’t you finish that shot and we’ll talk.” How the hell did she know? Freaked out, I did finish that shot and began to motion for him to look out the window. I had no clue who she was and could she see me? She introduced herself. She told me she had heard all about me and that she wanted me. No one had ever wanted me for anything before. Fine. My interest was piqued. She had me. She began talking, in that fast way that she does: “I want you to get down to Miami Beach. I want you in St. Kitts in time for the next round. My plane leaves for there in an hour and a half and I only have a few more minutes. This will help you. This is not like the others. I promise. This will make things different. pack your bags and get down here. Now. Oh and P--- will be caling you.

And just like that, she hung up. I was confused, curious, and quite possibly a little more than freaked out. But I had bigger things to think about. The dope was gone, as was the money. And the rest of the day was going to be spent getting more. It sucked, but there was no other way. We contemplated jacking the TV in the room, but it was worth all of maybe $20. Fine. Grab it. Off to the Pawn Shop and Bank of America to make a deposit, consequently with nothing in it. But if you do it through the ATM and then withdraw some, it lets you. A few hours later, we were on our way to the worst part of Chicago. And I had to make the run. I always had o make the run. Half the money first. The second half later. No hot shots. No getting beat. As we pulled up, that familiar metallic taste hit my mouth. I was truly at the lowest point in my life. I had nothing. Spiritually, emotionally, physically, and morally bankrupt. We hadn’t hit all the local Targets and Walmarts that day because we had enough, but usually we did. I went in to buy stuff with my checks and get money back. just to piss him off, I would spend more time than I needed to. I would try on shoes, check out CDs. Sometimes I would even buy more, but this day I didn’t. This day, I got the dope and got out of there. I hated passing by the basketball courts, I kept my head down. I didn’t want any trouble and I didn’t want to see the reality of where I was.

On the way back to the motel, feeling much, much better, my cell phone started buzzing. Fuck. Who was this? “Dude. Ahhh, what;s up?” a scrathy voice other the other end of the line crackled. “Um, not much. What do you want? “ “Ibogaine. Man, Ibogaine. She told me to call you. She wants you here and you do realize she gets what she wants? And don’t be afraid.” “I have been to 12 treatment centers. They just don’t work for me. I’m sorry, but I doubt this will either.” “Well, fuck. I’m not convincing you. It’s a beautiful thing, though. Too bad your junky ego won’t let you even come down and try it. Because you have no idea. No clue what this invitation will do for you.”

I don’t know how they did it. i don’t know how they knew, but they knew. They knew exactly how to get at just what i wanted. But I still wasn’t ready. I knew I had to be in Miami by the 11th, or I would not make it. It was still the end of July. Plus, I really thought it would not work for me. But only a few days later, I was making that phone call to my mom. My mom had set this whole thing up. A long time ago, she decided to just wait for the phone call and prepare for my death. So she let me go. She began to study botany and is now extremely knowledgable in that area. She had gone on a conference about two weeks before my initial ohone call with her. It was about plants used to heal cancer, hepatitis, and other diseases. My sweet, tiny mother raised her hand. that one burning question on her mind. “Has anyone heard of anything that helps with addiction?” One maan answered her on the break. He told her he knew of someone in Miami. He promised he would call her with the number when they got home. My mother never thought he would, but he did. That is how my journay to Ibogaine began.

I arrived home on Sunday. I had an appointment with the doctor on Monday. I was sick, but they were not letting me out of the house. I was going crazy. I counted down the hours. We arrived at his office early and this man I didn’t know began his questions, his exam, and prompty took me to this crazy detox place that was more of a Bed & Breakfas than anything I’d ever been to. I had 11 days until I would be leaving. The cleaner I was, the better the Ibogaine would work. Resetting the brain chemicals and scrubbing those receptors clean. The trip there was largely uneventful. I kept playing the Dead on my CD player. I ignored the other patients. I wasn’t there to make friends. I was there to give it everything I had and see. Just see what happened.

Arriving on St. Kitts, the energy was amazing. I still felt slight withdrawals; I didn’t like it when people touched me. But I never liked that. I befriended an amazing therapist who used holotropic breath work and other forms of psychedelics to reach greater levels of consciousness. I had no idea that she and the doctor would become my future boss and best friend. No clue.

Because Ibogaine is primarily taken by the Buiti tribes in equatorial West Africa, she had the place set up very much like as close to a real setting as possible. However, some parts were very clinical, if only because she was performing a study. The night before taking the sacrament, those who were going under, were not allowed to eat (Oh, food sounded so good.), we were annointed with special oils, we were told special secrets to carry with us into the next world, we pulled special cards to find out which animal might represent us. I was the Turtle. The turtle who loved the Earth and found great healing energy through touch. If only I knew how true that was at the time. The peaceful Turtle stayed with me throughout my journey.

the next morning went by slowly as one by one we went to the special cottage. We were two in a room with a nurse for each of us. I was the last to go. I had to have an IV. The doctor worried about my health and hydration and potassium level as it was. I hate IVs. I almost walked out. But i didn’t. The energy coming from that cottage was too powerful to leave. Some of the women were far into their journey’s. I wanted that. In went the IV, after several tries and lots of tears. I kept thinking it would bother me somehow. And it did, but I’ll tell you about it later. I was wearing my favorite pajamas. And my glasses. the nurse, Yolanda, was a native and I could barely understand her when not under, but she loved to call me The Nerd. Ha! How true. I slipped my body into the cool sheets. The pillow was sooooo good. My mind and body was floating and I hadn’t even been given my capsules yet. A normal dose for Her to give for someone my height and weight is two pills. She has it titrated down to 98% pure Ibogaine, so none of the other nasty stuff. Plus, she does it herself is a ceremony with a doctor from Africa. I waited for her to come and dose me. i had been given a shot. Something to take the edge off and something to take the full on pukeness away. But, sometimes, it is good to puke. Sometimes you have to get that stuff up and out.

I was quiet. The lady next to me was there and fully into her dose. I was anxious and she walked in the room. FOUR FUCKING PILLS. No way. I don’t want that many. Honey, it’s an Ego Shattering dose. You need it. Holy God, no way. I was too scared. down the hatch. No turning back. It kicks in anywhere from 20--45 minutes. Two hours later, I was still getting up to pee from all that damn water in my IV. Nothing. Nothing. The nurse brought Her in because NOTHING was happening. She told me to Let it go. Let go. Then she said: Lie down. Breathe. Breathe in- - -BOOOM!

Full on body slam. Nothing gradual. That was the last thing I heard. her voice. And then, JUST like Alice, I began tumbling backwards off the bed. i tried to grab for it, but I couldn’t. I was no longer in the bed. Fear gripped me, but there was this strange sense of something. In setting out to write this, I knew that there are some things that just cannot be explained. Some things you just have to get. I soon realized I was not in my body anymore. The doctor and nurse ran to the heart machine. I saw strips of paper being run off. They were taking my pulse. It was somewhere in the 20s, but I wasn’t dead. I just wasn’t in my body anymore. I watched the scene for a moment and She looked up, almost as if right into my eyes, and waved. Goodbye, I thought. I am leaving, but I will be back.

I watched the two beds, the cottage, I was going higher and higher, I saw the island, the ocean, North America, I looked to my right. Africa. I smiled. I went up and up and up. Holy shit. I gasped for breath. A voice, distinctly feminine, said “It’s alright.. Don’t leave. We haven;t started yet. TRUST.” I did. Fine. Show me, if you must. The fear was still there. The Ego was not gone yet. The plant is feminine. The journey was very much so. Whether that is because at the time I did not believe in any masculine form of a God, or because of my Women’s Studies minor, I don’t know. I just know that God, the Goddess, Energy, whatever you choose to call it, knew. It knew that however it had to appear to me was feminine or I would disbelieve it on principle. But that part came much later. After much breaking down of the Ego.

I was allowed to “have fun” for a little while. I had someone with me, a fairy, ans she allowed me to go places in the Universe. I sat on the rings of Saturn, they were studier than you might think. I could see Earth as a tiny dot in the distance and i began to ask questions. Why me? How will I ever get better? What happened? Where am I going? Questions that were important, ot so I thought. She showed me the answers. Suddenly the stars began to disappear and I saw a vision of myself. Complete down to the clothes I had on, except for one, major piece was missing. Right where my heart should be was a hole. I could put my hand through it, see the other side, it was bizarre. And then the whole began filling up: Needles, junk, drugs, boyfriends, old friends, horses, school, everything I thought I ever cared about went inside. Everything, but my family. Everything but the Spiritual side. And then she took a deep breath and blew on me. I began to disappear. I began to fade away like dust. I was screaming and crying and sobbing, NO, over and over. I still continues to die. I was dying right there as I stared into my very own, souless eyes. “This is what you are. This is what you have become. do you think any of these things actually do something for you? Do you think they fill you up, make you whole?” she was talking. I could hear her crisp, light, clear, high-pitched voice. She was dead serious. And later, I would witness my own death. She was just trying to show me. She left me there. By myself to think.

A few moments later I was on a swing I used to play on at the park. I was swinging away , the breeze in my hair, but I still felt dirty. Unwhole. And then She appeared. She took my hand and lead me through the forest and showed me what life was really about. Again, we went to look at the Earth from above. I could see the Energy. i could see it bubbling up, like a fountain, and spilling back in. I could see the affect in had on people. I went from seeing the big picture, to seeing things in the smaller picture. I took a little walk with God around the Earth. We plunged through people. Each one I could feel their energy. Whether they had Faith or not. I could feel God cry when we passed through a heart with no Faith. With no Belief. I could feel, if only for that moment that seemed like an eternity what it felt like to be God. And how She cries when She loses us. It was a sadness so profound, so literal, my heart could not bear its weight. And I totally use the word She interchangably. She was probably an It. I don;t know. It just felt feminine to me, but I think the more I have meditated on it and what I saw, it was not necessarily anything other than an Energy or a Lifeforce.

We went back to some kind of palace where she sat cross legged and the real questions began. She was the one asking. She was the one breaking me down, piece by piece. She questioned my Life, my Beliefs, what I had been doing. Everything. I had to have answers and i did. They were not easy. When she was done, she told me to go and sit.

I was in a movie theatre. One just for me. Except the screens were like flying pieces of white board, flying past my face, and I felt like they were going so fast. I tried to grab on to one and then the screen would come in front of my face and a memory would come into view. i would live back through that memory and somehow I would change what had happened. Instead of the memory being something where I held my head down in shame, i would end up holding my head up high and feeling proud. The memories were as far back as when I was three months old. Surely I felt like I was missing so many, as they were whizzing by my head, but I was told I got the important ones. I would work on the rest later. This memory fix lasted a long time. I went through and sifted through memories I hadn’t remembered until then.

I then spoke to my ancestors. The people in my family who came before me. And also the ones who were still around. I said a prayer for each of them. I apologized. One very specific memory was speaking with my dog, Bailey. She was my baby. She lived with me through everything. She had been there through everything. She could talk! She spoke of the time I OD’ed in front of her and the fear it caused her. Oh, it was painful to hear. But I listened. I listened to what every one had to say. And in the end, they all told me they loved me.

Throughout this whole time, there is something I failed to mention. Something that ties in very closely with the Energy. The duration of Ibogaine I listened to music and had my eyes closed, as it was imperative for a good journey. However, the music faded when the Ibogaine hit. The sound I heard throughout was a constant buzzing. i’d liken it to a weed whacker, but I know what it is as it was explained to me. My senses were so heightened that I could literally hear the molecules of energy. the particles, atoms, neutrons, and protons, all bouncing off each other. This is what that sound was. I didn’t know it until She explained that to me, but i knew it. And when I began to play around with it, I heard various other conversations I wasn’t supposed to hear. But I did not do that until the end of my journey.

After the theatre showing of my life, I was told I must see the roots of Tabernanthe Iboga. And zooooom! Just like that I was as tiny as a woodsprite and fairy in the jungles of Cameroon. I lived with them and watched how they sustained themselves through the Earth, giving and taking. A mutual form of respect between these creatures and Mother Earth. She provided, never failing. They had gratitude, never afraid of showing it. I saw an old, black man. A shaman. He was colecting Iboga for a ceremony. A real Buiti and I could distinctly hear Mama Iboga’s voice directing him as to where the plant lay hidden. I felt like it was something I wasn’t supposed to hear, but I was- soooo. I don’t know.

Suddenly it was night. There was a fire and I was in the church in the village. I was invisible to most, but not all. I had plenty of knowing winks, as I watched their ceremony in awe. The dancing. The firelight. The absolute sacredness of the plant. Four people were being iniated that evening. Surprised to see them , I walked over as the dancing and drumming began. OH MY GOD! There I lay, one of the participants. Suddenly I was full force in my body lying on the ground. How did this happen? I could feel the forces and the Energy all within me. Part of me wanting to take, take, take, but I knew better. I gave it right back. it isn’t and never will be mine to own. It is always a give and a take. But there will always be a vampire energy sucker. Protect yourself from those people.

I suddenly found myself in the middle of the village, daylight. But I was still in the church, under the ceremony. I was in a sand pit.I was being sucked down and the more fear I had the further down I went. Down, down, down. And then. Faith. Faith that either this was taking me somewhere or the plant was showing me something. As soon as I realized this, a set of stairs with a rope came from the sky. I grabbed it and I went up, up, up. Goodbye, Ego. I left that crying baby back in the church to be watched by someone else. Truly, it was wrapped up in a receiving blanket and handed off to an elder and I was to trust the words, “Leave it be. You can always take it back if you really want it.” The initiation ritual ended with prayers. More dancing and more drumming. I was standing upright. I could feel the grasp of fingers on my feet. WHAT? All of a sudden I was back in my body. Back in the bed on St. Kitts. The nurse was worried. 18 hours and I hadn’t moved a muscle. I hadn’t been there. She, the doctor, came over and whispered in my ear. I could not understand her. What I said back later was some version of an Africaans. I said I waned a Snickers and I was really hungry. I don’t remember that part. The nurse and the doctor both said I needed to drink. Don’t remember it. i do remember sitting up, drinking, and looking over at my roommate. She was still out, but had come out of it enough to eat dinner. She was just in the processing stage. Which happens after and is long and crazy, but you just somehow go through all that you’ve seen. My nurse was in charge of my music. She said the funny thing was that both of us in the room only wanted to hear Dark Side of The moon and had requested in at the same times, over and over. I don’t remember it. And I wasn’t done yet. I still had more “work” to do. I told them to leave me alone.

And that’s when I grabbed my roommate. I grabbed her energy and took her with me. We went flying like eagles. And I would catch her on a tree. i could feel our Energy swirling around and around. like two little kids playing tag. We were having fun. We decided to roam the campus. We sat in on the staff meeting where they were discussing another person’s case. later on, i repeated verbatim everything that was said in the room. She, the doctor, freaked out. It was funny. It was good. It was NOT a bad thing.

It ended with tearful goodbyes to my fairy, Mama Iboga, and the God Like Energy. i didn’t want them to leave, but they told me they had given me everything i would need. They told me I was now initiated, to be careful. To make MY WAY in this world. I would. I would somehow. I have. I still am. It’s a beautiful, if not sometimes painful experience. I can see past the person, into their soul. Sometimes their pain is too great. On the day we were scheduled to leave St. Kitts, 9-11 happened and the pain was so great I had to see the therapist. I did some holotropic breathwork, which eased it and taught me how to control things a bit more. It also brought out a few more painful memories and I went through them, just like I did on Ibogaine. It was weird. It was crazy. It was beautiful and knowing and special. I left a totally different person. I left someone who cared about me. Because I am not someone worth throwing away.

After the full on effects of Ibogaine wore off, some 21 hours later, I emerged that room a different person entirely. I had courage, strength, and a Faith I had never known. Tests were done to see different things. After all, it was still a research project back then. I was SKF 051. 51st female to take Ibogaine in that setting. The ataxia was so bad, I was forced to sit. I didn’t want to. It was fun being wobbly and I could not stop laughing. For the life of me, I could not stop laughing. Everything was funny. Don’t take yourself too seriously. It’s not all bad. I remember the porch and how dark it was. Four women, all had taken Ibogaine that day, sitting out there and smoking. She, the doctor, came up to me. “You saw it,” she said. “I did, “ I replied with a giggle and a wink. She looked me dead in the eyes, never one to fool around, “you have a lot of responsibility now, you know that, right?” “I am ready. I do.” Another wink. Another nod. She whispered in my ear and told me not to tell them what I saw. It doesn’t happen that way for everyone. I don’t know if that is true, but I worked for her for a long time and the stories always varied. No one was ever out for 21 hours, however. Not one muscle moved. Then she said, “He thought you were dead. I knew you just left.” And she got up and went inside. Yeah. I just left. And I learned a whole lot too.

I have since been back to take the plant once more from St. Kitts and once from Mexico. All interesting, none quite like the first. All amazing. All unique. All wonderful. I learned something from everyone.

I am a vessel. I can choose to carry around what I choose, but that Energy always wants me to choose Love. Always.

I saw myself die that first time. I saw it all. How. What. Where. When. I saw the funeral. I saw my mom spreading my ashes. It was ugly, not pretty. It hurt, but it was real. Very real. And I don't want to live that way. I don't want to be that person. So I am not. It is my daily choice. Today, I am not that person.

Oh and that IV, the first time. The first hour, everytime the nurse changed the bag or stopped it or started it, I had to peeeee. I got up, like, 15 times. And everytime, once I got back into bed, my visions started with the IV going into my arm and bursting forth into a new plane of existence. I don’t know why. It was weird. They say some visions you will never understand, some you will remember and know why later, some you may never. That one has me stumped.

If you felt this story opened your eyes even just a bit to the extent of Ibogaine's usefulness in treatment for addiction, please consider supporting MAPS and their efforts, especially in the realm of Ibogaine.