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Mike Stratton was on a “hell ride,” unable to move, as visions laid bare buried thoughts, resentments and destructive habits that had eroded his quality of life.
This was the 34-year-old’s first encounter with ibogaine, a compound extracted from plants native to Africa that is sometimes called the “Mount Everest” of psychedelics.
“I remember being stuck in that loop for what felt like months or years,” Stratton, the co-founder of Marek Health, told The Post.
Ibogaine has drawn interest for its potential to treat substance use disorders and, more recently, traumatic brain injuries and PTSD. Before his overdose death, Cindy Crawford’s son, Presley Gerber, talked about turning to the psychoactive substance in a bid to “rewire” his brain in the face of addiction.
Gerber — who did his treatment at Beōnd Ibogaine in Cancún, Mexico — said it helped him face “what I had been running from, and somewhere in all of it, I started finding my way back to myself.”
But a growing number of people are seeking out ibogaine not to ease addiction or trauma, but to transform lives that already look successful from the outside.
“We’re starting to see leaders, whereas before, people were coming to us because it was life or death,” said Talia Eisenberg, co-founder of Beōnd Ibogaine. “The fastest-growing segment is health and optimization.”
Ibogaine is a Schedule I controlled substance in the US and is not approved for medical use, but it is permitted in Mexico, making the country a destination for Americans seeking treatment.
Burned-out professionals, celebrities, biohackers, empty nesters searching for purpose and retirees contemplating their next chapter are among those traveling to clinics south of the border.
Some now explicitly market to that crowd, touting ibogaine for “spiritual growth,” “existential clarity” and “peak performance.”
For Stratton, the pursuit of optimization opened the door to something deeper. “I came for performance and I ended up leaving with peace,” he said. The journey, however, was anything but easy.
‘Running from hell’
Stratton built a career around optimizing the human body. But while he was building a company dedicated to improving other people’s health, his own was “in shambles.”
He was barely exercising, eating poorly and working constantly, relying on coffee, nicotine pouches and prescription ADHD medication to power through the day. His relationships and self-esteem suffered.
“I was searching for a magical reset button where I didn’t have to take time off and it would take care of all of my misbehavior and all of my poor choices would be erased and I would feel anew again,” Stratton, who lives in Palm City, Florida, said.
Ibogaine, he thought, might be just that. Part of what makes it unusual is what happens after the trip. The body converts it into noribogaine, which remains in the bloodstream much longer than the drug itself, potentially extending its effects.
“[The] unresolved and unprocessed thoughts I’d been carrying and not even aware of — it all came bursting out of my head at once.”
Mike Stratton
Scientists are also investigating whether ibogaine can promote neuroplasticity, the brain’s ability to change and form new connections in response to experiences.
A 2026 study found success in mice. While human research is preliminary, a recent brain-imaging study of military veterans found changes in brain activity and connectivity after treatment.
“The deepest evidence today is still in addiction and trauma populations,” said Dr. Eduardo Ramirez, Beōnd’s clinical director. “But the most active new research … is in healthy people using ibogaine for optimization, resilience and longevity.”
Into the Beōnd — and the ‘hell ride’ of a flood dose
A stay at Beōnd costs between $12,500 and $20,000. Health and optimization clients — who have included “Wolf of Wall Street” Jordan Belfort and Function Health founder Mark Hyman — typically stay for 10 days.
Before arrival, the clinic reviews clients’ health histories, medications and substance use. They often also conduct cardiac testing, because ibogaine can interfere with the heart’s electrical system, potentially triggering dangerous abnormal rhythms.
“Ibogaine is not a recreational psychedelic,” Ramirez warned. “People shouldn’t take it outside of a medical setting.”
Clients work with coaches to identify goals and prepare for the experience. Onsite, they do group sessions, yoga, breathwork, massage and meditation, which Eisenberg said help “make the most of the actual ibogaine.”
Stratton went in for his “flood dose” — a larger amount intended to induce the full psychedelic experience — with an open mind. Then he panicked.
“I made a mistake. How do I get out of this?” he remembered asking a nurse. Blindfolded in a hospital bed, he felt restless and paralyzed as vivid memories raced through his mind.
“All I knew was that I’d just survived hell, and I feel like a million dollars now.”
Mike Stratton
Ramirez explained that while psilocybin and lysergic acid diethylamide (LSD ) “tend to be more sensory and dreamlike, ibogaine is often described as a structured, waking-dream life review with more effort and less euphoria.”
“All these mental tapes of what my inner narrative was around the person I am, my perspective of reality, the built-up, unresolved and unprocessed thoughts I’d been carrying and not even aware of — it all came bursting out of my head at once,” Stratton said. “It was a hell ride.”
An intimate conversation with your ‘higher self’
Melissa Pruett, a 37-year-old small-business owner, expected her flood dose to feel like she was “strapped to a rocket.” Instead, it was “soft, gentle and sweet.”
She arrived at Beōnd after the birth of her first biological child shook her lifelong confidence.
“I’ve always been able to find the glass not just half full, but overflowing,” Pruett, who lives in Austin, Texas, said.
But postpartum life brought new physical limitations, hormonal upheaval and a deepening sense of inadequacy. For months, she searched for a way back to herself — but the spiritual and creative practices that once nourished her began to feel “more difficult, more forced.”
Then she met someone who had undergone ibogaine treatment, leading her to Beōnd.
“I knew that when I walked through that one-way door, I would be forever changed,” she said.
After her flood dose, Pruett felt as if an electrical current were rippling through her brain. Rather than elaborate visuals, she described an intimate conversation with her “higher self,” accompanied by a sensation she likened to “neurosurgery” inside her head.
One of her intentions has been to figure out what she wasn’t seeing but needed to. Under ibogaine’s influence, the answer came with startling clarity: “Just how enough you are.”
The message struck a chord. The following day, she felt “20 out of ten incredible.”
“I had so much creativity flowing through me,” she said, “just this sort of open channel gushing out.”
The morning after Stratton’s flood dose, he woke up angry about the experience. Around noon, he jumped into the pool — and something shifted.
“I had no clutter in my thoughts. I felt present for the first time in years,” he said. “All I knew was that I’d just survived hell, and I feel like a million dollars now.”
“It’s not a silver bullet … You have to be willing to look at yourself.”
Talia Eisenberg
From optimization to integration
Stories like these are driving interest in ibogaine for personal growth, but there’s a gap between what people report and what science has established.
Ramirez said independent, peer-reviewed evidence that ibogaine improves creativity or executive performance doesn’t exist yet.
However, Beōnd tracks outcomes among its health and optimization clients and reports improvements in focus, sleep, cognitive function and emotional regulation. Clients also describe positive changes in their relationships, sense of purpose and professional lives.
That includes “removing the friction of old patterns, unprocessed history or emotional reactivity that was quietly costing them energy and clarity,” Ramirez said.
For Stratton and Pruett, the real work began after their flood doses, as meditation, group activities and smaller “fractional” doses helped them process the experience.
That longer-term work, known as integration, turns psychedelic insights into changes that carry over into everyday life.
To do it, Pruett realized she would have to leave behind the productivity-driven mindset that had long defined her self-worth. She began focusing on small victories, journaling about “the things I can give myself credit for,” even when they were “teeny, tiny, microscopic.”
Five months later, those changes had reshaped how she shows up as a mother, partner, friend and business owner.
Stratton returned home feeling “addicted to health and exercise” and calling ibogaine “the ultimate pattern interruptor.” Eventually, the euphoria faded and familiar routines and pressures returned — but the experience offered a glimpse of another way of living. He has since returned to Beōnd multiple times.
“It became a tool to process inventory, get caught up to speed and to learn,” he said. “The root of it … is love and compassion not only for others, but for myself.”
Even Eisenberg cautions against viewing ibogaine as an instant fix.
“It’s very life-giving … but it’s not a silver bullet,” she said. “You have to be willing to look at yourself.”
For Stratton, ibogaine didn’t eliminate stress or familiar habits. It gave him a different way of relating to them.
“Before, I was willing to sell my soul to the devil for a result,” he said. “Now I’m more focused on putting my best foot forward.”
