hokkaidocrow at gmail.com
Sat Oct 14 08:13:56 EDT 2006
I also resonate with the theme of the intellectual self leaving the
emotional self in the developmental dust, as it were. It's interesting to
me that this seems to be a common thread of a number of people who are drawn
to ibogaine. Speaking only for myself, the ibogaine treatment produced a
lot of insight on this isssue. My only concern now is that the huge change
in my life threatens to throw others into tumult. It's a hard thing to
deal with, and I'm tempted just to leave them in the dust. But on the
other hand, everyone has always acted in good faith to me, and it's not
their fault I went and got myself enlightened with exotic drugs. So now I
have to think about how all my pre-existing personal contracts fit into the
context of my rediscovered self. It's a problem, but a good problem to
have, I think.
On 10/14/06, LEE <JUNKBOY64 at msn.com> wrote:
> slowone <slowone at hush.ai>,
> *THANKS for sharing!!! I totally relate.. in 5th grade I was reading at a
> college level and ive read all the encyclopedias and even the phone book, in
> effort to run away!! ive always held myself back, because I didn't believe
> in myself... its taken years, and an ibo treatment, but now I run my own
> business, and realise that im actually a cool person!!*
> There is only love, all else is an illusion.
> ----- Original Message -----
> *From:* Brad Hays <bradleyheathhays at gmail.com>
> *To:* ibogaine at mindvox.com
> *Sent:* Saturday, October 14, 2006 4:41 AM
> *Subject:* Re: [Ibogaine] neurosis
> umm hmm yep
> On 10/14/06, slowone at hush.ai <slowone at hush.ai> wrote:
> > I have always had a solitary streak. General sociability seemed
> > shallow to me, moreover I drove away many people I liked before I
> > even knew what I was doing. I cherished the peacefulness of time
> > alone - but often felt my isolation eating at me like a corrosive
> > acid.
> > I disappeared into books from age 5 through early adulthood. In my
> > late teens, I had a sense that it was finally time to connect with
> > people, to show myself and make my way in the world. I soon found
> > that whenever I was doing something well, particularly in public, I
> > froze. Whenever I felt something strong in myself, fear would
> > immediately eat it away. If I felt desire, I'd shut down. I
> > couldn't decide what to do with my life - I hadn't asked to be
> > born, so why should I choose a career? It was as if a firm decision
> > to live eluded me.
> > Rather than dwell on this, I discovered early on that I could make
> > myself feel good by using my brain and willpower, thinking
> > meaningless wordy thoughts that seem to release endorphins. ("The
> > opposite of anti-oxidants might be onti-accidents.") This helped me
> > to remain aloof from others.
> > I convinced myself that the life of the mind is most important.
> > Humanity will be extinct someday, so why get excited? But I found
> > myself looking in my mind for some answer that could bring me
> > happiness. Every now and then, I would think that I had found it
> > in an idea that would acquire a buzzing momentum, with supporting
> > lines of thought weaving around it like bees around a hive. But the
> > next day I would find myself holding bits of dried moss instead of
> > the
> > golden insight of a lifetime.
> > It wasn't until my mid-30's that I had a job lasting more than a
> > year, although I pursued various frustrated creative activities,
> > attempting or perhaps waiting to find meaning in life.
> > Several times in the early years of therapy I had acute
> > claustrophobia, feeling as if buried in a coffin, needing to decide
> > whether to calmly regulate my breathing in the hope of someone
> > coming to free me, or to deliberately lose control, screaming and
> > breaking fingers clawing at the splintering raw wood planks in
> > front of me. When this scenario had occurred to me in my 20's, I
> > felt that waiting was easy, that someone would come, that with my
> > supernaturally strong control I could ration my breath long enough.
> > I made a strong dose of T. iboga rootbark extract by soaking
> > powdered rootbark in vodka and lime juice, then evaporating the
> > alcohol. I drank the black liquid, an estimated dose of 25-30
> > mg/kg. I vomited it about an hour later, having only experienced
> > the first brief indications of a strong experience. My stomach
> > lining felt sunburned afterward. Somewhat to my surprise, I was not
> > motivated to try ibogaine again immediately, even though I soon
> > acquired some in chemical form.
> > One evening at a party, a year later, I was feeling isolated as
> > usual.
> > Suddenly, I had a novel sense that I was seeing my familiar
> > surroundings for the last time. I became concerned that this might
> > be a premonition of death, perhaps even in a driving accident on
> > the way home. This motivated me to try ibogaine again. I had left
> > the sludgy rootbark soaking in vodka with lime juice, and now I
> > poured off the dark liquid (3rd extraction) and slowly evaporated
> > it to a black sticky substance, which I coaxed into capsules and
> > swallowed.
> > The amount of ibogaine and other compounds was barely enough to
> > affect my motor abilities (estimated 2-5 mg/kg), but I stayed
> > curled in bed for a number of hours, exploring my thoughts. I was
> > dimly aware of thoughts coming from different places in myself.
> > Each place seemed the locus of a character-like shadowy 'being'
> > with different functions. I noticed different latency times
> > between having and then classifying thoughts of different types.
> > Some thoughts would dominate my attention, and consequently took
> > longer to detect and label. These seemed to be more 'me', and they
> > seemed to be a defence, intended to
> > screen out other thoughts. (Their slowness possibly resulting from
> > habitual concentration on those particular ideas in order to block
> > other subjects.)
> > Presently I realised that the source of the problem that I have
> > always been trying to solve is me - not just one of the hordes of
> > skills, stereotypes and memories (including scars) that I carry,
> > but _me_, the very self who was trying but wasn't quite able to
> > figure it out this time.
> > The next day, I continued puzzling, as if over a Zen problem,
> > without expecting to solve anything just then. My thinking had an
> > unusual quality, it seemed as if I was intermittently letting
> > myself think simple, logical things that I had consistently
> > overlooked before. Finally, while washing my hands, I realized
> > that I was not the person who I thought I was. I looked up at the
> > mirror in real surprise - and, having just experienced a sensation
> > of two selves merging, saw that surprise on an unfamiliar face.
> > Then, as I was walking to a local park, I remembered a childhood
> > episode when my mother, having broken a promise by denying she ever
> > made it, in response to my outrage, yelled "You'll do the same to
> > your children!" Although the situation was mundane, the idea that I
> > would perpetuate the feelings that I was having in another person
> > precpitated a nervous breakdown.
> > Rather than let myself grow into an adult that would perpetuate
> > such torture, I worked with great psychic effort to disable myself
> > and to conceal what I was doing from myself to make it sustainable.
> > One thing that reinflamed my anger was that my parents would
> > discount my protests at the way I was treated by claiming it would
> > not matter when I was an adult. I was thus proving them wrong by
> > treating myself as they did, and thereby mutilating myself so that
> > it would clearly matter when I was an adult. Following their lead,
> > I was discounting myself as a human being. "Man will be extinct in
> > the end" was the ultimate philosophical form of my self-denial.
> > Looking at my life, I now understood how my watcher self always
> > intervened when I had intense feelings - in the form of spontaneous
> > compulsive behaviours that had always amazed me with their subtlety
> > and their effectiveness at thwarting what I thought I wanted to
> > accomplish. The best of the brains, talent, and force of will that
> > nature had given me to excel with were unconsciously devoted
> > to failure. In cutting my cords of attachment to people, I became
> > entangled in their raw and angry loops, numbing myself as best I
> > could by staying in my head.
> > The process of intermittent thinking that led me to the discovery
> > of my
> > 'watcher' self in front of the mirror had an organic rhythm that I
> > liken to birth, or to a snake shedding its skin: I was sliding out
> > in prosaic increments as I weakly traversed each simple but
> > strangely opaque piece of thinking, all in the midst of doing some
> > errands. In a sense, a process of growth toward adulthood was
> > resuming after a long pause.
> > After this revelation, I quickly succumbed to grandiosity, thinking
> > that I was cured and could now join the world with full capacity.
> > But three months later, I wrote:
> > It seems that the insights I gained on the ibogaine only
> > scratched the surface, that I am simply terrified of viewing
> > the waste I have made of my life, and I'm not confident in
> > ibogaine as a vehicle to cope with the terror - rather I
> > wonder if the insights it might bring would just be a
> > distraction; probably even the thought of using it helps keep
> > me from facing myself. (It is so easy to imagine meeting that
> > self in the future, as if it were not present now.)
> > Several years have passed since I wrote the above. I have come a
> > long way since then, but still feel like I'm struggling. I found
> > higher doses of ibogaine (to 12.5 mg/kg) to bring on paralyzing
> > anxiety. I like ayahuasca in community musical settings nowadays. I
> > had a spiritual rebirth experience in the musical ayahuasca church
> > Santo Daime that helped me feel reborn after my painful processing
> > of the iboga message.
> > I've enjoyed the ibogaine list and its predecessor for quite a
> > while. A lot has happened here, rebirth and death inclusive. So
> > here's another
> > person emerging from the shadows of those who don't tell their
> > stories.
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> > account required
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