My Ayahuasca Experience

My Psychedelic Journey of Self-Healing

Scary. Doing something like Ayahuasca, like many, is very far outside my comfort zone. I didn’t know what to expect, nor did I care. The only thing I was going off was a few podcasts and the idea that this psychedelic may be able to help me cure my depression and anxiety.

My first hurdle was heading to the location where you do Ayahuasca. It was all the way in Costa Rica. I am from New York, so this is no quick trip to Jersey. Anxiety is one of my biggest issues and unfortunately, that includes travel anxiety. Just getting there was a huge accomplishment for me.

Last summer, when I ventured out to do this, I was on a slew of mental health medications, and I needed to taper off them to go through with this.

Tapering off My Medications

Getting off my medications, which were addictive took a few months and were incredibly trying. I went through withdrawals virtually the whole summer before heading to Costa Rica In late August.

When I tell you it was horrible, it is no exaggeration. I was bedridden for months and genuinely didn’t think I would be able to make it down to take on this adventure. However, although hard, I knew I would need to be strong to try this avenue to get better.

After I successfully tapered, I was ready to embark on my trip.

Costa Rica

Upon getting on my five-and-a-half-hour flight, I was flooded with emotion. I was mixed with excitement, nerves, and most of all fear.

When I finally got to the Rythmia, the resort for taking this “medicine” as they call it, I was very impressed. It was a gorgeous place hidden in what seemed like a jungle. There were iguanas and all sorts of wildlife surrounding the property which was incredibly foreign to me.

When I got to my room I was flooded with terror. The realization of what I was about to do had set in. I cried for hours. I had never done anything more than marijuana and here I am in a different country about to do one of the most powerful psychedelics known to man.

After a day of settling in and watching myself cry in the mirror for four hours, I was getting ready for my first ceremony. In total, there are four ceremonies that take place four nights in a row from sundown to sunup. I had no clue what to expect.

The first night for me was a huge disappointment. In a room with 70 other people on their own psychedelic journey, it felt as though I was the only person in the room that did not feel the medicine. People around me were crying, puking, laughing, rocking back and forth, and there I was laying in my bed feeling nothing.

After the ceremony, I was really upset. Did I come all this way for nothing? Am I too far gone to be helped? These were the questions that flooded my brain. This is the doubt that always comes to me whether it be at work, home, or with friends. A sense of unworthiness that shakes me to my core.

Feeling the Medicine

At the second ceremony, I was not enthused. I was ready to go home and thought there would be no help for me here. Rather than keep this in, I told the Shaman. I voiced all my concerns, and he nodded and handed me a bigger cup of medicine. When I tell you it is the most grotesque flavored sludge you could ever put in your body, it’s just that.

After 30 minutes, I began to feel something happen. With my eyes closed I began to see the constellations in the sky of my mind begin to move and make the most beautiful shapes and colors.

This next part is going to seem crazy, but hey, that’s the name of the game, right?

After the shapes disappeared, I began to walk through a land that seemed like images from a Dr. Seuss book. The mountains were curved, the grass was blue, and the sky was bright orange. After a while of taking in this bizarre scenery, I decided I needed a break, so I opened my eyes.

Upon opening my eyes and assuming all would be back to normal, I was in for a scary surprise. When I looked around the room everything was different. The once straight beams in the room were curved and the people in the room were taller with red eyes. They were peering at me from behind support beams in the room and looked menacing.

I shut my eyes. I was right back in Dr. Seuss’s land. Then I opened them again and the figures were getting closer. When I looked down at my chest there was a wooden sign that read, “coward.” This is the word I internally use to describe myself with my negative self-talk. When I looked back up the alien-like figures came toward me and started whipping me on the sign. It was by far the scariest thing that had ever happened to me.

However, each time I was whipped it did not hurt. It felt good. At this moment I had no sense of time. It could have been minutes, seconds, or hours I had no idea. By the time they were done hitting me, they stared at my chest and gave me the notion to look at the sign. When I looked, it said, “Courageous.” I wept for a few minutes then felt this overwhelming urge to dance. I was filled with joy and felt weightless. I danced for hours and just enjoyed the bliss that this night had given me.

Nights Three and Four

After my second night, it felt like I was on a cloud. The apprehension toward doing it again had diminished and I was ready to go in and do it again. One thing to note, there is no rhyme or reason to what you are shown in these “trips” and no experience is the same. With that being said, I had no idea what to expect.

When the Ayahuasca took effect the next night it was very different. I felt nothing for a few hours. Then I was standing in front of myself. Not the man I am, but the child I was. I must have been five years old. I had the scar on my chin, my pre-pallet expander underbite, and my Lion King onesie pajamas on. It was incredible how real it felt.

All this child said to me was, “I love you, don’t leave me.” It was powerful. I was hysterically crying. To me, this was a sign that I suppressed the hurt little boy that lives within me. I hugged myself for hours saying, “I won’t leave.” Although the night before was a wilder experience, this was the moment I had come for. It was an experience that I cannot forget and don’t think I ever will.

The last night, I was taken down to a dungeon with lanterns on the wall. For some reason, I knew I was heading into my own stomach. I know, crazy. Then a voice said, “I can get rid of this hate and sadness if you let me.” I said, “Okay.” Then I purged. Purging is their cute way of saying puke your brains out, which I did. After the puking, I felt free. I was weightless and thought my heart was finally healed.

Homecoming

Upon returning to my New York home, I was thrilled to share my story with my loved ones. Although this didn’t totally heal me, this was the greatest self-healing experience of my life. I was later diagnosed with Lyme Disease which was impacting me neurologically. However, this was the catalyst that led me down the path of taking care of myself spiritually.

I am forever grateful for this time in Costa Rica and believe wholeheartedly it is one of the reasons I can overcome my mental troubles. Thank you for reading and always have hope.