Reclaiming my ground: why I stepped away from psychedelics

It’s been almost a year since I last sat with any plant medicines. Looking back on countless ceremonies I’ve sat in with a variety of medicines—Ayahuasca, Psilocybin, Bufo, and Iboga—I can see now that each one gave me profound lessons, but it has also made me very aware that plant medicines aren't suitable for everyone or every nervous system. It's important to be cautious with both the frequency and the dosage, and to listen to your body, ensuring you don't exceed what your nervous system can handle.

After years of working with these sacred medicines, one day, everything changed. I went into a weekend ceremony that was supposed to be two back-to-back Ayahuasca sessions. But after the first ceremony, something in my body shifted. It was as if my entire being was screaming, “Stop. Get me out of here. I can’t take this anymore. Don’t put me through this.” It wasn’t just a thought—it was a deep knowing that I couldn’t ignore. I left early the next morning, and I’ve never returned to any medicine space since. I listened. I honored that voice inside me, that unwavering guidance, and I’ve stayed true to that choice.

What Has Changed?

There’s a saying in the psychedelic world: “The medicine will never give you what you’re not ready for.” And for the longest time, I believed it. (Even after I had experienced re-traumatization in a medicine space, I still kept going) But today, I have to speak out and say: I don’t agree with that. Yes, it’s true that you’ll get through whatever it is you’re facing, but is that truly beneficial? Is that the kind of healing we need?

I’ve had ceremonies where I’ve experienced hours of being unable to move, crawling on the floor, having to be carried outside, feeling utterly powerless, lost in absolute confusion and overwhelm. And while yes, there were teachings in those moments, there were also times when I wondered: Why do we have to go to such extremes to learn? Is this depth of suffering necessary to grow? Is it really worth putting ourselves through that just to get the lesson on the other side?

The physical, emotional, and mental toll of those experiences would often carry over into my day-to-day life. Coming back to reality after sitting in something as intense as Iboga was like being thrown back into a world that felt completely foreign. After my two Iboga ceremonies, it took me three full months to reorient myself, to come back into a grounded reality and to feel regulated again.

In the last year, I’ve learned so much—about my nervous system, my psyche, my energy body and my physical body. More than I could’ve imagined. But none of this wisdom would have been possible if I hadn’t allowed myself to be fully present, if I hadn’t given myself the space to just be without the influence of intense medicine. I’ve learned to slow down and listen, to respect my boundaries and to honor my nervous system in a way I hadn’t before. And that’s been the real gift. It wasn’t until I stepped away that I began to really listen to my body’s wisdom in depth and understand what it needs to heal safely.

Everyone’s journey is unique, and not everyone’s path with psychedelics is the same. I truly believe that these medicines can be powerful tools for healing when approached with care and respect. I also want to acknowledge that ceremonies can be beautiful, transformative, and incredibly enriching experiences. However, it’s important to highlight the contrasting side, which is often overlooked. Too often, psychedelics are glorified and talked about with statements like, “You’ll never get anything you’re not ready for.” But as mentioned above, I have to respectfully disagree with that statement. Was I ready for what came up in my Iboga ceremonies? Absolutely not. My system wasn’t prepared for the extreme intensity of what unfolded. And while there were undoubtedly valuable lessons, the experience was way beyond what my nervous system could handle at that time. Do I regret it? No. Those experiences were the catalysts for my transformation, the experiences that shaped the wisdom I now carry in my body and allow me to have a much more reflected perspective and help me when supporting others in integrating difficult experiences.

I’m not completely excluding the possibility of sitting with plant medicines again. I don’t want to follow black-and-white thinking. If I feel a true calling, I would follow it, but it would come from a very different place. I would approach it with a much deeper awareness of my limits, the limits of my nervous system, and what my body is capable of holding. I would come from a place of wisdom and deep knowing what I can—and cannot—tolerate and if it really is necessary. For now though, I feel incredibly grateful to be fully grounded in this reality, whilst embracing the lessons I've learned.