Rehab and AA saved my life, but they didn’t fix anything.
Growing up in northern Maine, I aspired to be many things―a doctor, a professional basketball player, hell, even one of those guys that puts children on rides at the fair―but after numerous failed attempts at college, I found myself following in my father’s footsteps and co-managing his grocery store in our hometown of Presque Isle.
I was married, I had twin daughters, I played a lot of golf, and I had a promising career in retail to look forward to! I was also trying (and failing) to hide an enormous compulsion to drink alcohol.
In 2016, when my drinking was at its worst, my little brother, Connor, passed away unexpectedly. Once considered a functional alcoholic, that superpower seemed to disappear into thin air with Connor’s demise, and I was left drinking a liter of vodka every day of my life– not because I wanted to, but because I had to.
I was dying.
Less than a month later, I was in rehab.
Looking back, my first and only trip to rehab saved my life, and I stayed completely sober for almost two full years. I was attending weekly AA meetings, doing step-work with my sponsor, and I assumed I had slayed the dragon once and for all.
Instead of feeling free, I felt sad, lonely, and afraid, and those feelings only seemed to expand over time. By the summer of 2018, after we had welcomed our third child, changed careers, and moved our family to North Carolina, I was drowning in this pain.
Ayahuasca & Iboga helped me kick alcohol addiction
The familiar taunting voice from alcohol was back, begging me to return. On a trip back to Maine to visit family, I found my way back to Grey Goose vodka.
All that experience taught me (and my family members) is that I needed help. And I needed it fast.
Thanks to my older brother’s keen awareness, he knew that I needed something drastic to implement change. About a month after my crippling relapse, I signed myself up to drink the sacred plant medicine, Ayahuasca, in western Canada.
I went in desperate and not knowing what to expect. I came out alive and never the same again.
Little did I know this was only the very beginning of what has turned into a hero’s journey in healing and self-discovery. Seven months after I drank Ayahuasca, I ventured down to Costa Rica to attend another healing retreat―this time with Iboga. Iboga was ultimately the medicine that separated me from alcohol for good.
I haven’t taken a sip of booze since March 28th, 2019.
Once I let the alcohol go, my heart started beating again. Instead of running away from the pain that came with losing my brother, I started to embrace it, knowing full well that was my path towards living a meaningful life.
By going into the pain, I was able to uncover the monumental grief that was holding me back, and I spent the summer of 2019 crying almost at will.
That’s when Connor came swimming back into my awareness. And that’s when everything changed.
In the early parts of 2020―at about the same time the coronavirus was threatening our world―I began writing my first book. Miraculous tells the story of how I overcame my addiction to alcohol, loosened the grip on my tangled grief, and how I found a piece of my heart that I never knew existed.
I released it in the fall of 2021 to positive reviews. Sadly, my family didn’t support me in the way I had hoped to be supported, leaving me feeling hopeless and confused. While I hid in a closet, I did absolutely nothing to promote my work, and I felt like giving up on my writing career forever.
In the beginning parts of 2022, things went from bad to worse. Another little brother of mine named Trevor (he came next in line after me) was also battling the demons of addiction. In fact, not long after my healing journey began, I became very invested in trying to…well… we called it saving his life.
He spent the summer of 2021 living with my family in North Carolina. There was so much love and growth that my wife of ten years and I decided we were going to move back to Maine to be closer to him.
On the same day that our moving truck showed up at our home, Trevor overdosed on heroin. He died a few days later, leaving me broken and empty inside.
I discovered who I am through microdosing and EMDR
I had always known there was something different about me, and Trevor’s passing provided me the opportunity to learn the truth of what I was unable to see, unwilling to admit.
All of my life I had experienced maddening ups and downs. Whether I was drinking or not, it really didn’t matter. And after Trevor passed away, those spells (as I often called them) only got worse, resulting in scary times for yours truly. My wife and I were hanging on by a thread.
For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what was wrong.
I wasn’t drinking, but I was once again dying, and I had no choice but to follow my aching heart towards something true.
That truth was PTSD.
Not long after I was diagnosed, I felt called to start microdosing psilocybin and lion’s mane as a way of better understanding my trauma. What began as a running diary, documenting my experience, turned into my second book, which I dubbed “The Mushroom Chronicles.”
This liberating experience changed my life in ways only a book can describe. Through perseverance and hard work, I was unable to uncover generational conditioning that had been limiting me for as long as I’ve been alive.
And with a rather large assist from EMDR therapy, I was able to unlock the pain that had been preventing me from finding true balance and purpose in my life.
I found my writing again.
I found love for myself.
I found out the true nature of who I am and what I do.
No, I didn’t turn out to be any of the things I aspired to be when I was a child.
My higher self had other plans..
Thanks in large part to all of this pain I’ve already written about―this pain that I’ve collected since the day I was born―I have found that I’m a Spiritual Healer.
I’m Ryan M. Graves. Journey Guy.
I’m on a mission to share my experiences and my wisdom with anyone who is curious to learn more about the world of psychedelic healing. I am living proof that psychedelics are, in fact, medicines, and that little boy in me now aspires to build a community full of love, connection, and healing.
I hope you come along.
