u/No_usernames_left_25

Just tried it yesterday and again this morning. My two cents on the trips:

Preface:

I haven’t touched anything more than weed in 30 years—and no weed in over a decade. The last “boost” I took was in my early 20s, back when partying with whippets was in vogue. I had a bad experience where everything around me faded to black and I felt bodiless in a void. My mind—puny as it felt—knew I had taken drugs and became convinced I was in a padded room, having blown my mind on nitrous. It was not fun.

Purpose:

The past couple of years have put me through the ringer. I was looking for something that could reset or realign me. DMT seemed like a possible option. I’m not chasing the cheap highs of my youth—no rainbows, no party in my brain. I just wanted a peek behind life’s curtain.

Yesterday:

I received my sacrament (iykyk) on Monday but didn’t have time to get a battery until yesterday. I came home nervous and excited.

I took a healthy pull and—WTF.

The intense vibrations and sounds were identical to my whippet blackout in 1992. I started to feel terrified, but I’m in my 50s now—and I know better. I let the fear go… though I’m not sure I actually had a choice.

The Slingshot:

I was sitting/lying in bed when I hit it. My body felt like it was being pulled into the mattress—not heavy, but like something was drawing me downward. At the same time, my mind felt like it was launching upward.

Like being frozen in that exact moment when a slingshot is stretched back and about to release… except I was somehow both states at once.

For lack of better words: hell yeah, I was ready to go.

Code:

I’d read about people seeing code in lasers and light, so I half expected it. What I didn’t expect was to see it on everything—my walls, my skin, everywhere!

But it wasn’t in different colors. It was embedded in whatever I was looking at. My blue accent wall had blue code, like it had been carved into it in microscopic detail—and it was moving-it was dancing.

Closest comparison I know is that moment anesthesia hits and the ceiling starts to “breathe”… but way more detailed and alive.

TV:

Probably not the wisest choice, but I had music videos playing on the TV at the foot of my bed. Tears for Fears’ “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” was on.

The code filled the washed-out areas of the video. But the rest… I don’t really have words. I wasn’t just seeing it in 3D—I was seeing inside it. Inside the world of the video.

I laughed—and took another big hit.

Colors and Hair:

Before I could even exhale, fractals and colors—colors I’m not even sure exist on Earth—exploded everywhere. The “wa-wa-wa” vibrations as I used to call them, ramped up hard.

I felt petrified—but also completely aware, fully conscious in my eyes and mind. I glanced around the room, which now looked more like ultra-high-end VR than reality.

My skin was alive. The hairs on my arms looked like individual fiber-optic beings, swaying and stretching to the music—now Rocket Man.

Side note: there’s an animated version of that song—watch it in any state. It’s beautiful. I think I left part of myself in that video. Not sure which part, but I intend to go back and see whether I need to retrieve it—or be grateful it shed.

Tunnel, an Entity, and Surrender:

At some point during Rocket Man, I closed my physical eyes and opened my mind’s eye.

I was in a tunnel.

How big? No clue. Could’ve been a mile long or six feet—it didn’t matter. I wasn’t moving through it and it took up my entire field of vision.

The tunnel was made of fractals and swirling colors. At the far end was something like a door or portal—but not defined the way a door would be here.

As I focused on it, a face appeared.

It matched everything else—mechanical, organic, fractal. The best way I can describe it is a mechanical elf crossed with a jester. It seemed to be doing something just inside the doorway before noticing me.

It stopped. Looked directly at me. Smiled.

I didn’t hear words, but I understood: it was inviting me in. It wanted to show me something.

That’s when I should have taken a third hit.

I didn’t.

A kind of pseudo-dread crept in—the sense that to go through, I’d have to fully let go of this world. Like unbuckling the belt on the slingshot and surrendering to being truly and sincerely launched. I don't know why I used the word 'sincerely'. It normally wouldn't be a good desciptor for such, but now I think it is.

I couldn’t do it.

I have teenagers who need me. The fleeting thought of losing myself—ending up mentally gone, stuck somewhere, not being there for them—was enough to pull me back.

I opened my eyes.

And I swear… it felt like the entity understood. Like it left me with the sense that I’m welcome to return—when I’m ready.

Today:
I only had about an hour before work, and if I’m being honest, part of me wasn’t even sure if what I experienced yesterday was real.

So I went back in.

Took a couple of hits. Tried to “read” the code (yeah… not happening). But what stood out this time was something different—the fireworks I wasn’t chasing yesterday suddenly felt like they actually meant something.

That surprised me.

I did see the tunnel again. Same feeling, same presence—but no face at the end this time.

And honestly? That felt right.

I get the sense it knows I wasn’t ready. And I’m okay with that. I’m not in a rush to force anything. I trust that when the time is right, I’ll get to the other side.

For now, I’m just going to let whatever this is… work quietly in the background.

Thanks for reading.

... and it feels like my cart is stuck upside down on one of these endless loop-de-loops. The blood is pooling in my skull and I am losing my mind.

Been almost 2 years since D-Day. Stayed for my children. "Staying" for my children, I should say. Firm in my belief that children should not have to deal with adult problems. Also, have this damn belief that I am bound to my vows before God, despite adultery being a Jesus approved reason for divorce. Some days I really hate myself for believing in both of my reasons for staying.

I grew up in a twice-divorced home and saw it wreck my siblings. Perhaps if my father had the emotional-IQ I believe I possess, he could have helped us safely navigate the divorce. Regardless, it has scarred and scared me into believing I must protect my kids from this car crash of a marriage.

I have been seeing a therapist once-a-week all this time. It does help. However, the realization that my feelings for my WW will never recover is being cemented. I just cannot get the images of her and the AP in his Nissan Altima, my guest room, and my own damn bed, getting freaky out of my head. Four or five years (maybe more) of secret meetups and love notes. I think about what she has done Every. Single. Day. - and it turns my stomach as much now as when I first learned of it.

We've gone through the expected stages of reconciliation: disclosure, traumatic bonding, etc, etc, ad-nauseam. Heavy on the nausea. However, for the last year I have come to the realization I am faking everything with her. I smile and tell her I am fine and that we are fine. I kiss her goodbye before work and hold her hand when walking. I am doing all the things a loving husband would do, but I don't feel a thing for her outside of animosity and disgust.

I am now the one who is lying and pretending in this relationship. However, I am not doing it so that I can get away with banging another woman, despite being hit on by several women. I do it to keep the peace and keep this marriage intact. If I am honest, I am just hoping I get my kids to college before it crumbles.

I pray for the strength to bear the weight of this mask I am wearing and for my children to be spared until their little brains are formed enough to share in this unjust burden and grief. God, just get me through today. We can deal with tomorrow, tomorrow.