Testimonial

I developed a serious drinking habit in my teenage years, a struggle that ebbed and flowed as I navigated through my mid-40s. About three to four years ago, I stumbled across the concept of ibogaine treatment, and despite my better judgment urging me to pursue it, I procrastinated. A year back, I found myself inside a comfortable 30-day in-patient rehab facility, which, despite its pleasant atmosphere, failed to resonate deeply with me. I managed to stay sober for a few months afterwards, yet I constantly missed the allure of drinking, gradually slipping back into my old routine—all at once, as if by an invisible force.

In July 2024, I made the pivotal choice to attend Eclipse Sciences (“EI”). During the intake medical checkup, though, I was hit with an unexpected blow: I failed my EKG. The administrator and owner of the facility quickly arranged for me to see a Stanford-trained cardiologist in Tijuana. The second EKG echoed my initial results—there seemed to be something off. Given that I was in decent physical shape—having jogged three miles just that morning—my spirits were high, and I felt reluctant to believe that a significant health issue lurked beneath the surface. I was flooded with disappointment; my mindset had been positive, brimming with hope about what the ibogaine experience could unveil for me. I even considered negotiating for the ibogaine treatment off the premises, perhaps in the comfort of a hotel, but that wasn’t an option. However, the owner’s support was invaluable; he offered to connect me with alternative treatment groups that wouldn’t pose the same potential risks to my heart.

Determined, I took it upon myself to revisit the cardiologist the very next day and returned to EI to gather my belongings. I felt a strong urge to make a partial payment for the services I had received—enjoying nutritious meals, comfortable lodging for a night, thorough medical treatment (including IVs and blood tests), and a consultation with a top-notch cardiologist. To my surprise, EI refused any payment. If this had been the end of my journey, I would have wholeheartedly given EI five stars for their remarkable kindness, transparency, and genuine concern for their patients’ well-being. It’s difficult to describe the comfort of the environment; everything about EI radiated a commitment to patient care over monetary concerns.

Fortunately, the following day, the cardiologist was able to squeeze me in for an echocardiogram. To my relief, I passed with flying colors—my heart function was solid for my age. However, due to prior obligations, I couldn’t return to EI immediately to resume my treatment. Instead, I waited another two weeks before returning.

When I finally experienced the ibogaine treatment, I found it to be remarkably transformative. I had anticipated confronting some dark aspects of my psyche, and while there were moments of discomfort during what felt like a ‘carousel’ of memories and visuals at the peak of my experience, everything was manageable and ultimately meaningful. In the lead-up to that peak, I spent an extended period laughing—amused by the absurdity of my own inner dialogue. While it wasn’t exactly a joyous party, the experience was far from unpleasant; it felt important, cathartic even. The morning after what I would describe as a gray ‘rest day,’ I woke up and stepped outside to exercise. Even before my workout began, I noticed the sun felt different, the ocean breeze invigorating. I realized I hadn’t felt so good sober—perhaps ever, or at least in a very long time.

Later that morning, I encountered DMT. After the first hit, my mind wrestled against the experience, flooding with paranoia. As the trip came to a close, I instinctively exclaimed “no más” to any further attempts. Nevertheless, the environment was incredibly safe, and my guide was not only knowledgeable but also deeply caring. Even though I was warned against resisting, my ego kicked in, but within about thirty seconds, clarity returned. I realized I was okay and chose to dive back in, this time with a larger dose. I’m so glad I did; it turned out to be the most profound experience of my life. Attempting to articulate it feels almost futile; I lack the words to convey the intensity of what I witnessed and felt, and when I have tried, my retelling seems to fall short of doing it justice.

What I can express, though, is the foundational impact it had on me. I either glimpsed something that truly exists in a spiritual realm, or I became acutely aware of the astounding capabilities of my own mind. As I drifted back to reality, I grappled with whether it mattered which of those was true; either way, I felt fundamentally changed, affecting how I perceive and interact with the world around me.

After leaving the facility, I found myself sitting for hours at an airport bar due to a flight delay. My gaze fixated on the myriad colorful liquor bottles and the rapid mixing of drinks for patrons who seemed blissfully unaffected. It has now been three weeks since that life-altering experience, and I’ve been traveling through regions steeped in rich wine and beer traditions. Surprisingly, I’ve felt no cravings or urges to drink, nor do I feel left out in what would have been a drinking paradise in my previous life. The contrast to how I felt upon leaving rehab—where I felt an overwhelming urge to drink despite paying ten times what I did at EI—is stark. Today, I simply don’t care to drink. I’ve taken to waking early, enjoying walks at sunrise, engaging in intense workouts, and experiencing newfound mental clarity, both in my personal and professional life. I’ve rekindled my love for reading—pouring over actual books rather than listening to audiobooks—and filled my workouts with music rather than podcasts. In fact, just a week before the treatment, I stopped taking my sleeping aids and antidepressants, now with no desire to return to them.