r/psychedelics

Finding your fashion stride is such a powerful transformation—just like finding your inner self on a psychedelic journey. Both reveal layers of authenticity and beauty that were always there, waiting to shine. Keep rocking that energy!

That night was terrifying, but it taught me so much. I saw the power of unconditional love, the strength of community, and the beauty of surrendering to the unknown.

Even now, I carry the lessons with me. It was a journey through darkness to find the light.

I cupped my navel, repeating to myself: You can’t have me. I choose love. My body still shook, still buzzed, as if I might take flight.

But something shifted. The darkness loosened its grip. By 5 AM, the buzzing finally stopped. I was exhausted—but I was free.

As I sat back down, I felt the wings on my back subside. It was as if Grandmother Ayahuasca herself was working through me, showing me the contrast between light and dark, fear and love, isolation and community. It was overwhelming, but profoundly beautiful.

The shaman said I needed to move the energy. With their help, I walked slowly around the fire. Others came up to support me, offering love and encouragement.

Slowly, I started to feel my feet again. My body began to settle. The buzzing eased, but the lessons were just beginning.

The buzzing didn’t stop. Hours passed—8 PM turned to midnight, then 2 AM. My shoulders kept moving, my body vibrating as I sat there, unable to control it.

Then, something broke through. I began to cry, spitting out black, clear insect wings. I was stunned.

Then the shaman asked me to take another cup. I was scared, but I trusted the process. The facilitators and others were incredibly kind, praying over me, checking on me, supporting me.

But this was something I had to face on my own. The ceremony had just begun.

I tried to purge using hape, but nothing worked. The shaman came to cleanse me, but the buzzing only grew stronger.

I couldn’t feel my feet—they felt like insect legs. My body kept moving, shaking as if it had a will of its own. I was terrified, trapped in the experience.

My body began buzzing—like a bee. It wasn’t just a sensation; I was buzzing. My shoulders moved up and down uncontrollably, as if wings were trying to burst from my back.

I couldn’t stop the sound coming out of my mouth, this deep, vibrating buzz. It was surreal—and terrifying.

In May 2023, I went to Cancun for a retreat.

The place was stunning, but what unfolded was far beyond anything I could have imagined.

I did three Kambo sessions and two ayahuasca ceremonies. It was during the last one that things took an unforgettable turn.

Thank you so much for your kind words! 🙏🏽 It truly is a blessing to have those special people by your side, guiding and supporting you through such a transformative experience. Safe hands and trusted companions make all the difference. Wishing you all the best on your own journey.

I hope more people get the opportunity to experience life like I have. It’s not easy to describe, but the growth, the clarity—it’s life-changing. I wouldn’t trade that trip for anything.

I’ll always cherish the time I had on that trip and the lessons it taught me. As someone with ADHD, it was even more impactful. It pushed me to accept my flaws and finally seek the help I knew I needed. I’m grateful for that journey every single day.

I know this doesn’t sound super cohesive, but it’s so hard to explain what it’s like to experience your own life with a completely new perspective. If I did it again, I’d follow the same approach: have a trip sitter, research everything, and take notes in a journal.

Do I still get stressed at work? Absolutely. But it doesn’t feel like the end of the world anymore. Like when I was a kid, yesterday’s problems don’t linger in my mind. It’s all just part of the flow.

I enjoy the simple things again, not because they’re new, but because I know they won’t last forever. I see them as unique moments of my experience, and I’m grateful for that. No one else will ever know what it’s like to be me, and that perspective is everything.

That trip taught me how small and insignificant I am—in the best way. It reminded me that I’m just another traveler, navigating life like everyone else. Now, I appreciate things differently. A morning coffee is a gift, and my dogs make me emotional in the best way.

I realized I was the same person, and that we’re all just trying to figure it out. It eased my stresses so much. Before, I loathed myself. I was successful, but never felt like I could live up to my own expectations. The weight I carried was breaking me.

Psilocybin - The experience changed my life in ways I still can’t fully explain. It’s hard to put into words, but the best way I can describe it is as a deep reconnection. I felt like I found the happy young boy I once was—he never left, just got buried beneath years of “growing up.”

That moment? It was everything. The humbling, dizzying mix of feeling so small, yet so incredibly full of wonder. And in the midst of it all, I thought, I hope I carry this with me forever.

But outside? That was something else. The sun was setting, and the world felt vast in a way I’d never known before. Watching the sky stretch, I realized: This wasn’t just for me. This moment—this sunset—was for everyone.

Meanwhile, my buddy was somewhere else, wandering through his own journey. Music in his ears, lost in the flow.

Inside, earlier, everything felt different. The room had closed in on me, reduced to just a few things—a plant, a coat rack. But they weren’t just things anymore. They were… companions. Alive, somehow, existing in this strange bubble of my own.

They were alive, like something out of a Harry Potter scene, shifting in and out of existence.

And those palm plants? They weren’t swaying in the wind. They were waving at me. Not just moving with the breeze—but inviting me in. Like old friends, welcoming me back. “Come closer,” they seemed to say.

We didn’t leave. We just moved between that spot and a grassy patch nearby. It wasn’t random. It was like some invisible force was gently guiding us, pulling us back and forth in this rhythm. The bricks around us—at first just bricks—shifted. They weren’t just bricks anymore.

At first, stepping into the world felt off. Too big, too raw. But then, we found it—a tiny, hidden concrete nook nestled between the dorm and the soccer field. Quiet. Almost like it was waiting for us. And when we stepped into it? The strangest thing happened. We both just knew: This was it.

The first time my buddy and I tripped, we were perfectly content staying inside. Two hours passed, and it felt like the world had stopped. But then—out of nowhere, like some unspoken agreement—we both knew. No words, just this sudden understanding. We had to go outside. Not later. Now.

LSD isn’t just a trip. It’s a journey into the soul.

But here’s the warning: you must be 100% comfortable with your surroundings. Even the smallest discomfort can spiral into stress.

In the right space, though? It’s pure magic.

After 7-9 hours, reality starts to return. Hunger hits like a storm, and your back aches as though you’ve carried the weight of the universe.

The exhaustion is intense. You’ll feel drained for at least another day. But amidst all of it is awe—a lingering sense of having seen something profound.

Anxiety always shows up. It’s part of the ride. There’s this overwhelming urge to step outside, to feel the cool air and reset.

But the outside world? Just as strange. You might walk a block only to realize you’re desperate to be back inside.