My Journey With Psychedelics

The wisdom of a lifetime delivered in 3 trips over a weekend.

Image Credit: my own pic

Trying Ayahuasca in June of 2023 was the cherry on top of all the self-improvement work I’ve done over the years. I loved it. I’ll likely never do it again.

One weekend. 3 ceremonies. 3 guides. 2 integration sessions. About 45 other psychonauts co-journeying with me. 15 volunteers watching over us, including 2 medical staff: a doctor and a nurse.

It was the most profound weekend of my life.

Here’s my story (not medical advice).

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Quick disclaimer. Psychedelics can be deadly and can ruin your life.
I wrote about the risks of psychedelics here: Risk Factors To Consider...

Neurofeedback training was as profound in changing my experience of being alive, and it doesn’t come with side effects. Read more about my experience here: Unconventional Strategies for Growth.

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The Journey To Get There

I arrived to Orlando on a plane Thursday night. The check-in at Soul Quest, where I scheduled my completely legal psychedelic retreat, was starting the next day, with check-in shortly after 11 AM, so I stayed at an AirBnB.

Being an Eastern European, I decided to take public transit to get there. That required a 30 min walk from my AirBnB in Orlando’s 80 degree weather (26 °C) to hop on a bus. My indoor, chair-n-AC accustomed self, who forgets to drink water, ended up acquiring a dehydration headache from pilgrimaging in that heat.

Once I reached my destination, I snapped a quick selfie, and let my family know I’ve arrived. My cousin texted me back: “I hope you reach the enlightenment you are searching for.”

I checked in, feeling hopeful. Excited even. “10 years of therapy in a weekend” was about to be served.

But first, light lunch. Then, a meeting with the doc to go over my vitals and discuss medical history. And finally I got into the Lotus Lodge, the one from the pic above. It was a barrack with about 20 mattresses on the floor. Around 3ish our integration coaches came in, introduced themselves and shared with us guidance for the journey ahead.

We were asked not to consume anything other than water before the 6PM ceremony. Big part of consuming Ayahuasca is purging, so it’s vital to go in on an empty stomach. Purging can take many forms. It can look like hysterical laughter, uncontrollable crying, full-body shaking… or, less glamorously, vomiting and diarrhea. I experienced the first four.

Thankfully, the toilet was spared.

Facing the Past – the First Ceremony

At 6 PM on Friday, the first ceremony began.

I drank the tea. It wasn’t as disgusting as I had been warned it would be. My first impression? Sugarless, expired cocoa that had accidentally fallen into dirt, been scooped back up, and then boiled with a fistful of earthy spices.

We were told that some people might need more than one cup, while for others, even half a cup of Ayahuasca could send them straight into the deep end. You just don’t know until you try.

I waited. And waited. And… nothing.

Around me, others were yawning, drifting into altered states, whispering through their visions, working through their intentions. Meanwhile, I sat there, wondering if anything was going to happen.

2 hours passed. Then came the celebratory gong, signaling that we could take a second dose if we wanted.

I got up and took another cup.

30 more minutes passed.

I felt mellow. My mind was awake, my body at ease. But nothing extraordinary was happening. Just heightened awareness of my thoughts, which, honestly, wasn’t new for me.

Then the integration coach approached me and offered Hapè. I was down.

He explained what I was about to experience, loaded the tobacco into a long pipe-like applicator, and blew it up my left nostril.

“Whoa” I thought. That really hit me.

The brain-burning feeling of tobacco entering my nose felt cleansing.

After he did both sides, I spat out what trickled down my throat, then let myself collapse onto my floor-level mattress. I spread my arms wide, in a gesture of surrender. I’ve finally let go trying to control, and I’ve surrendered into the experience. I was now ready to receive.

I had come into this weekend with a clear intention: to let go of the past.

In therapy, I learned I had to let go, and forgive those who I thought had wronged me. While consciously, I knew why this would be beneficial for me, deep down inside, I was still holding on to grudges.

I wanted to use psychedelics to integrate what I theoretically knew into my way of being. I wanted to feel it in my heart. I really wanted to let go, forgive, and move on.

And in my very first trip I did exactly that.

I didn’t see anything while I was tripping.

My body was just processing whatever residuals were left to process.

I laughed, freely, like a child. I sobbed, deeply, as if I had lost the love of my life.

And then, I just was.

I felt peace. I felt joy… The kind of joy I had never experienced before.

I felt immense gratitude. For my existence. For every single moment that had led me here.

So when thoughts swirled back into my head, I went back to my intention.

And I did what I came here to do.

I forgave.

I forgave my family, my exes, my friends, my former self — for every mistake, for every perceived wrongdoing. I even forgave the broader forces that had shaped me — my country, my history. The resentment dissolved.

I came out of the first session feeling overflowing with love. I felt that all humans around me were beautiful and I wanted to tell them that and hug every single person, cause I have so much love to give to the world.

I resolved my whole intention for the entire weekend in the very first trip, now what?

Focusing on the Present – the Ceremony in the Rain

The second ceremony was optional.

Some people had just opened up a can of worms, full of immense pain and trauma the night before, and diving back into psychedelics just 14 hours later — before they had even begun to integrate what had surfaced — wasn’t necessarily the best idea.

But for me, after opening the floodgates of love, there was no hesitation. I was in.

This time, we started outside, sitting close to the trees. The weather was perfect. It was warm, but not too hot. Later, rain was in the forecast, and it felt refreshing.

At 8 AM on Saturday, I drank two cups immediately. It had taken two cups to work the night before, so why wait?

It hit me within minutes.

I was the second one to purge. This time, I threw up.

And strangely, it didn’t gross me out the way it normally would. You know that feeling when something unsettles your stomach — twisting, turning, making you nauseous — until you finally hug the john? And then, suddenly, relief washes over you?

That’s how it felt.

Like I had expelled something heavy. As if invisible baggage had been coiled up inside me for years, nestled somewhere deep in my intestines, and now — just like that — it was gone, escaping with that purge.

Then, the real work began.

I really wanted to explore who am I in my closest relationships? With my husband, my kids, my family and friends, my clients. Who am I? And how can I become a better person in those relationships?

I asked for Hapè again.

This time, as the tobacco hit my system, my head suddenly felt heavy. It dropped onto my chest, even though my body remained upright, legs crossed.

And in that moment, I saw it.

My heart.

Big. Bright. Red. Brimming with life and love.

But trapped. Confined inside a tiny, tight cage. A prison built from the very baggage I had been carrying for so long.

It hit me. I’ve been withholding love.

I laid back on my blanket beneath a nearby tree. I laughed, thinking of freeing my huge heart, as I’ve just released the invisible baggage.

And then — my husband. I started talking to him. In my mind. Then, right on cue, the rain began to fall. Droplets hit my face. I broke down in tears, and suddenly, I was apologizing.

I realized how often I had failed to show him the appreciation he deserved — not for anything in particular, but simply for being.

I promised to embrace him more. To hold him more. To see him fully. Because he has played such a key role in my life.

Then, I had another vision.

I saw people dancing around a massive bonfire.

Later, in the integration session, I learned this is a common vision of a spiritual event, something our ancestors may have done thousands of years ago to commune with the spirits.

And then, I saw her.

A georgeous little baby girl, born from a goddess.

I witnessed the birth of a soul.

And instantly, I knew… I was tasked with bringing her to life.

Because I am the bringer of life.

To my children. To my clients. To those I guide.

I bring life. I bring light. I am a lighthouse. I help people see what is.

The experience was once again, so positive, so powerful, so full of love.

What else was there to work on?

A Sneak Peak of the Future - the Final Ceremony

Before the final ceremony at 6 PM on Saturday, we had our first integration meeting.

These meetings felt like group therapy. People shared their experiences, the integration coach helped us interpret the messages, and we all learned and grew together.

I noticed that for many, their journeys were deeply visual. Mine, on the other hand, came mostly in the form of affirmations — sentences that repeated themselves in my mind, messages that felt given to me rather than created by me. Thankfully, I had a notebook. The moment the psychedelic effects passed, I wrote down every affirmation I received, preserving the knowledge I had accessed.

My first two ceremonies had been an 11 out of 10.

I had resolved my past.

I had gained powerful insights into my present.

So for this final ceremony, I asked for something that would guide me into the future.

I asked Ayahuasca to show me my faith, my strength, and my motivation.

And what I experienced felt like a sneak peek into the future.

I died and I came back

This time, the medicine hit me much harder. I had more of the psychedelic substance in my body, and I grappled with my internal excuses. Purging felt difficult — I resisted it. I didn’t want to throw up. I kept coming up with reasons to hold on to my struggle.

But when I finally surrendered…

I purged. I laid back. And I left.

I entered another dimension.

I saw the afterlife.

It was peaceful.

It felt like home.

My soul was simply returning to where it had come from. And there was joy — pure, boundless joy. It felt good to be there.

But then I came back.

I experienced my death in reverse order.

It all played out before me, unraveling backwards.

I experienced my body disintegrating. My senses shutting down. I asked a volunteer to hold my hand, because I felt like I’ve forgotten how to breathe.

And when they held my hand… I felt the fear of dying.

The worst fear I have ever felt.

A fear you can do nothing about. Because the end is near.

And then — my hands.

I saw them. And they looked… old.

They looked like my grandmother’s hands.

It felt so real that I turned to a volunteer and asked, “Are these really my hands? Do they look old to you?”

And then, I started coming back.

I lay on the ground, watching fractals dance in the sky, begging to return.

Scared that I might not.

But, thankfully — I did.

And when the effects finally wore off, I knew, I’ll likely never do this again.

What I took from the experience is that I have a big life ahead of me, and it is my responsibility to put in the work and make it whatever I want it to be.

I died, and I came back. I saw my transition to the afterlife in reverse order. What’s between now and then — I get to create that.

My faith is that I will live a long and beautiful life.

My strength is in my breath. I can breathe through anything.

My motivation is that I am alive. I get to do this.

And this is all I really needed to know. Now I have a lifetime, to implement the wisdom I had accessed.

Summary

Ayahuasca gave me everything I asked for — closure from the past, deep presence in the now, and a vision for my future. But the real work wasn’t in the visions — it’s the integration. In living what I had learned.

This wasn’t about escaping reality. It was about embracing it fully and asking for guidance on how to do exactly that.

What I took from the experience is that I have a big life ahead of me. And it’s my responsibility to put in the work and shape it into what I want it to be.

I also realized how much love I have to give — and how much I’ve been holding back. Not because I didn’t want to share it, but because of the invisible baggage I carried. The excuses I made. But I left those behind. I forgave myself and others. I finally let the past stay in the past.

Now, I’m ready to forge ahead and make it all beautiful.

Because I now know what I need to do.

And I’m doing it.

Follow along, and let’s grow together.