Success Stories

Gehrig’s Story:

From Rage and Despair to Clarity and Purpose

“Ibogaine gave me my mind, my heart, my soul—and my brain—back.”
— Gehrig Tucker, U.S. Veteran

The Breaking Point

By August 2023, Gehrig had reached the end of his endurance. “I can’t do this anymore,” he told his mentor, John Dalton of the Nevada Coalition of Psychedelic Medicine. Dalton, a fellow veteran with similar injuries, promised him a path forward: ibogaine-assisted treatment.

“Hearing JD’s story gave me hope. It wasn’t data or theory—it was lived experience from someone who thought like me.”

The Ibogaine Experience

Gehrig entered the Beond Service program prepared for challenge.

First 9 hours: A grueling inner battle—“like burning alive,” he recalls.
Last 3 hours: A profound dialogue with the medicine. He asked life’s biggest questions and wrote down the answers.
Visions:
- Witnessing the crucifixion of Christ with startling realism.
- Seeing beings repair synaptic connections in his brain—later validated by neurological science.
Breakthrough: Reconnecting with his inner child’s joy, regaining clarity, and learning he could now choose a different path in moments of anger.

“Ibogaine gave me clarity. It turned every moment of rage into a Y-intersection—now I can choose a different road.”

Transformation & Aftermath

Within 24–36 hours, everything shifted:

Colors grew brighter.
Positive emotions could finally be felt—without the voice insisting they wouldn’t last.
Forgiveness, once impossible, emerged naturally for those who had caused harm.

“I no longer feel tethered to the past by a harpoon. I finally have autonomy over my life.”

Life Today

Gehrig is back in school, leading a thriving nonprofit, and present in his relationships. He finds mindfulness in daily activities—archery, fishing, time outdoors—not as escape, but as true presence.
“Life is easier on every level—physically, mentally, emotionally. The barriers are smaller. I am myself again.”

A Message to Fellow Veterans

“Suffering doesn’t have to be permanent. Healing isn’t just possible—it’s extremely likely when you put in the work. Not pushups, not running—it’s being open with your loved ones, being vulnerable, challenging what you were taught.

Stop drinking. Be open. It’s on you—and that’s empowering. Because if you hold up your end of the bargain, ibogaine can give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

Tyler’s Story

From Trauma to Peace: A Marine’s Journey Through the Darkest Valley—and Back

“The noise in my head is gone. It doesn’t feel like a boxing match anymore.”
— Tyler Kotulka, U.S. Marine Corps Veteran

I Watched a Man Die an Hour Into Iraq.

Tyler’s first tour in Iraq brought the reality of combat crashing in. Within the first hour of crossing the line into battle, he became very familiar with the realities of war. That moment changed him. Not just because of the violence—but because it was the confirmation that war doesn’t wait for your mind to catch up.

A Lifetime of Pain. A System That Couldn’t See It.

For more than two decades, Tyler carried that pain home. The VA offered pills. Surgery replaced a spinal disc. He tried ketamine treatments. Talked to doctors. Went through the motions. Nothing touched the root.

“I’d feel a feeling… and all of a sudden I was in crippling, paralyzing pain. I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t breathe. I was losing touch with reality. My family was watching me disappear.”

When doctors told him “your back is fine,” he knew the truth: his pain was coming from somewhere deeper—somewhere no MRI could reach.

Alcohol Was the Medicine He Was Given. Ibogaine Was the One That Worked.

Like so many Veterans, Tyler turned to alcohol to numb the agony. It nearly took his life.

Everything changed when he discovered plant medicine. After experiencing temporary relief through psilocybin, he found his way to Ibogaine—a powerful, African-rooted psychedelic with a reputation for unlocking trauma and rewiring the brain.

He went to Mexico afraid he wouldn’t come back.

“I told myself I was going to die there. That’s how terrified I was. But it didn’t kill me. It made me stronger.”

It Was Violent. It Was Terrifying. But It Was Necessary.

Tyler’s Ibogaine journey lasted nearly three days—longer and more intense than anyone else in his cohort. He was consumed by fear, paranoia, and disorientation. He didn’t trust anyone. He thought he was dying. But something deeper was happening.

“You can’t know what’s on the other side of the door if you’re not willing to walk through it.”

He finally broke through during a booster dose. In prayer and worship, he felt the veil lift.

“Jesus hadn’t forgotten about me. He let me go through it to show me I’m still loved. Still seen. Still here.”

After Ibogaine: A Return to Life

Tyler walked out of that medicine room and into the first real peace he’d felt in decades. The rage was gone. The shame began to lift. And the mask he wore for years—trying to survive, pretending to be okay—started to fall away.

“For the first time, I could see my wife and kids. Like actually see them. Be with them. Laugh with them. Love them. I was home.”

He still has hard days. But now he knows how to meet them. With presence. With grace. With strength rooted not in armor, but in truth.

What Tyler Wants You to Know

“Ibogaine isn’t a magic pill. It’s not a party drug. It’s hard. But it works.”

He wants other Veterans—and those who decide policy—to understand: this is real medicine. It saved his life. It gave his family their father and husband back.

“I’ve never met a Veteran who said the VA fixed them. Not one. But I’ve seen what this medicine can do.”

Matt Carpenter:

From Combat to Stillness: A Marine’s Return from the Edge of Suicide

“I thought I was going to die in that cabin. I didn’t go to Mexico to heal—I went so I could say I tried everything. But instead… Ibogaine gave me back my life.”
— Matt Carpenter, U.S. Marine Corps Veteran

“The VA Gave Me Pills. I Gave Myself to the Bottle.”

After retirement, Matt’s life unraveled.

His marriage collapsed.
His relationships crumbled.
He couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t feel. Couldn’t stop spiraling.

He tried therapy. SSRIs. Counseling. Nothing worked.

“I’d sit in that VA chair with a thousand-yard stare, going through the motions. I wasn’t living—I was counting the days until I couldn’t do it anymore.”

When nothing changed, he moved into a cabin deep in the woods—isolated, broken, and actively planning his suicide.

A Podcast Sparked a Second Chance

One night, he heard Governor Rick Perry talk about Ibogaine on a podcast.

He didn’t trust it. He didn’t think he could afford it. He didn’t believe it would work.

But his wife Annie did.

“She made the calls. She found Beyond. She fought for me when I had nothing left to fight with.”

“I Didn’t Go to Heal—I Went to Die.”

Matt flew to Mexico thinking he wouldn’t make it back. But what happened next changed everything.

“The flood dose hit me like a freight train. I relived every moment I’d buried—every loss, every failure, every ounce of guilt.”

For six hours, he sat under a tree—sobbing, alone, and somehow more alive than he’d felt in decades.

The next day, in a dream, a vision came to him: a wounded wolf, collapsed on the trail, beaten and bloody, looked up and said,

“I’m done fighting. I need your help.”
That wolf was him.

After Ibogaine: A New Way to Breathe

Matt stayed for integration. Breathwork, Brotherhood.

He hugged himself for the first time and said, “I love you. I forgive you”

“The rage? Gone. The numbness? Gone. I could finally feel joy. I could finally breathe.”

His VA counselor, originally skeptical, told him:

“Matt, I’m so glad you went to Mexico.”

What Matt Wants You to Know

“This medicine didn’t get me high. It made me whole.”
“I didn’t trust it. I didn’t think it would work. But I’m here—and I’m not broken anymore.”
“The breathwork. The brotherhood. The stillness. That’s what saved me.”
“This isn’t some trend. It’s real medicine. It’s sacred. And it saved my life.”

To the Leaders and Lawmakers:

“No Veteran should have to leave the country and pay out of pocket to stay alive.”
“If you can’t look us in the eye and say you’re willing to fight for our healing—then step aside. We will.”
“This isn’t politics. This is survival.”