My family’s concern was palpable when I announced my intention to embark on psychedelic therapy. They feared the potential for irrevocable harm or, worse, the unforgiving arms of the law. Despite their objections, I was resolute. The conventional prescription of Seroquel had been a slow poison to my psyche; I refused to be its willing victim any longer.

In my quest for healing, I came across Vet Solutions (VETS), an organization spearheaded by Marcus and Amber Capone, a former Navy SEAL and his steadfast wife. They were pioneers, fighting for the legal use of potent indigenous medicines for veterans like myself. The prevailing War on Drugs in the U.S. had cast these potential remedies into the same shadow as the most dangerous narcotics, forcing VETS to solicit donations for treatment in more accepting nations. It was a bitter irony that veterans had to leave the “Land of the Free” to seek the healing they needed.

By fortune and whispers, I found a local healer offering precisely what I sought. The healer’s sanctuary provided ceremonial space and post-ceremony support, a beacon of hope in a sea of governmental overreach.

The first ceremony, conducted with psilocybin mushrooms, became a turning point. It didn’t miraculously resolve my deep-seated issues, but illuminated the darkness that had enveloped me for so long with a flicker of hope. This experience was like a fresh layer of snow covering the jagged terrain of my soul, offering me the chance to forge a new path through life’s mountains. It was more than just a reset; it was a reawakening, a reconnection to a life force far more significant than my own. As I transitioned away from Seroquel, I faced my family’s trepidation head-on. They feared this was a fleeting high that would plummet to a dire low. But I trusted the journey; my heart had been reignited, and it guided my course.

The transformation didn’t stop there. Inspired by Dr. Matthew Walker’s revelations on the power of sleep, I adopted healthier habits and bid farewell to alcohol and caffeine. My diet underwent a revolution, eschewing the toxic offerings of processed foods for the wholesomeness of local, organic produce and wild game. It was a silent protest against the industrialized food complex that has compromised our nation’s health.

Liberating myself from the grip of Seroquel was a painstaking process, but as the months passed, the haze lifted. The withdrawal was a delicate dance, reminiscent of past battles with pain medication, but my perseverance paid off. I emerged lighter, not just in spirit but in body, as if shedding an immense burden I had carried for far too long.

My complexion radiated health, my physical capabilities surged, and my demeanor softened into a more amiable presence. Yet, my family’s eyes still held a glint of skepticism, reflecting their unspoken fears that this transformation might be temporary.

Although I hadn’t initially been admitted into VETS’s psychedelic-assisted therapy program, their network proved invaluable. They introduced me to the Warrior Angels Foundation (WAF), established by Andrew Marr, a former Green Beret, and his brother Adam, an ex-Army attack helicopter pilot. WAF’s mission resonated with me: providing veterans holistic support for Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) and Post-Traumatic Stress (PTS), sidestepping traditional psychotropic treatments.

Under the guidance of Dr. Mark Gordon and Dr. Michael Lewis, WAF was redefining the treatment of TBI/PTS. They aimed to heal the brain’s physiology, precisely targeting the source of cognitive impairments and mood disorders, informed by comprehensive bloodwork. They advocated addressing hormonal imbalances and nourishing the brain with Omega-3 fatty acids essential for neurological reconstruction. Their insights, shared on platforms like the Joe Rogan Experience and in literature such as Dr. Lewis’s “When Brains Collide,” laid out a pathway to recovery that started with incremental doses of high-quality fish oil — a simple and profound treatment.

WAF’s next endeavor was the 4x4x48 Challenge, a grueling endurance event concocted by David Goggins. I reluctantly set up a fundraiser, detailing my journey with little expectation, having turned my back on social media. To my surprise, a surge of support manifested in nearly ten thousand dollars in contributions in just one week. When Adam Marr from WAF called, his invitation to their ranch in Texas was not just an opportunity to participate in the event; it was a call to join a coalition of the willing. The brotherhood I encountered was a mosaic of valor — SEALS, Green Berets, Marines, Rangers, and undisclosed operatives — a formidable assembly, including advocates like Marcus and Amber Capone and even Secretary of Defense LT General Christopher Miller. It was more than camaraderie; it was a collective uprising against an industry that had long dictated the terms of our recovery.

Running alongside these warriors, I found solidarity in shared scars and a common history of battles with TBI, physical injuries, and PTS — conditions often exacerbated by conventional pharmaceuticals. The statistics were stark; the vast majority of us had suffered under the weight of psychotropic medication’s debilitating side effects, and yet such treatments remained the norm.

Among the steadfast was Kelsi Sheren, a Canadian soldier who had turned her trials with PTS/TBI into a crusade for change. Her connections led me to the Defenders of Freedom, who offered support for a comprehensive two-week TBI clinic in Dallas. Through her, I also met Jesse Gould of the Heroic Hearts Project, another kindred spirit in the race, working to grant veterans access to powerful indigenous medicines.

Exhaustion clung to me, a heavy cloak around my shoulders, as the second night of the 4x4x48 Challenge waned. Then, I was graciously invited into a circle of Native Americans for a peyote ceremony. With legs aching from the forty-mile trek, I entered the teepee. The passing of Crazy Horse’s pipe, an artifact steeped in history and defiance, was not just a gesture but a profound moment of connection. The tribe, whose lineage bore scars from past injustices, extended an olive branch to us veterans. It was a powerful communion, transcending barriers and infusing us with a sense of unity and love.

The conclusion of the forty-eight-mile journey marked a personal triumph, as the final stretch saw me sprint with an intensity I hadn’t mustered in years. A cathartic release washed over us at the staking ceremony, led by Chief Phil Lane Jr. The sight of hardened warriors shedding tears in a shared moment of hope and healing was a stark reminder that vulnerability and strength can coexist. It was there, before an ancient tree, that palpable energy surged through me, bestowing a clarity of purpose I had long sought.

Returning home, the glow of transformation was undeniable, yet my wife met it skeptically. The trials we had endured together cast a long shadow of doubt on this newfound peace. Her hesitancy reminded me of the healing yet to be done, not just within myself but in the bonds strained by years of struggle.

The journey led me next to the lush Amazonian landscape of Tarapoto, Peru, for an Ayahuasca retreat with Heroic Hearts Project. There, under the guidance of Shipibo healers, the potent brew coaxed me into a realm where time and self-dissolved. The confrontation with my innermost fears was harrowing, a battle of wills against the confines of my own defenses. Yet, surrendering to the experience, I transcended the ego’s labyrinth, soaring into an expansive state of existence that defied language and logic.

This odyssey of the soul was not just a momentary departure but an enduring transformation. The profound insights gleaned from lifetimes lived in the span of hours illuminated the intrinsic divinity that threads through every aspect of existence.

Carrying the afterglow of this otherworldly encounter, I sought further healing at the Resiliency Brain Clinic in Dallas, where a team led by Donna Cranston and Dr. Sharlene Gaudet delved into the intricate workings of my mind. There, through innovative treatments like Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation, I began the meticulous process of rewiring the neural pathways marred by injury. The analogy of a sound mixer with its cables pulled and reconnected imperfectly captured the complexity of the task at hand. Yet, the expertise and determination of the clinic’s team held the promise of restoration and rebirth.

Each dawn at the clinic began with a regimen of eye exercises that seemed deceptively simple yet were surprisingly strenuous. Dr. Michelle Eisenmann, known affectionately as the Brain Influencer, guided me through these routines using nothing more than a popsicle stick adorned with colored stickers. This exercise, which required me to track the vibrant dots with my eyes while keeping my head still, was not just a workout for my ocular muscles; it was a cerebral rejuvenation. Michelle taught me that our eyes are direct extensions of the brain; moving them in deliberate patterns could stimulate healing by enhancing neural circulation.
Our work delved deeper with comprehensive labs that revealed further imbalances within my body. The individualized supplementation plan that followed was a testament to the power of personalized medicine. The resources available, like those provided by companies such as Everlywell.com, made this kind of in-depth physiological assessment accessible and actionable.

The treatments employed were elegantly simple, relying on basic, affordable equipment. Yet, the expertise of Dr. Gaudet and Michelle transformed these simple tools into instruments of profound healing. Their knowledge and compassion were the true miracles of the clinic. It was a revelation to see how non-pharmaceutical therapies, often suppressed by the pharmaceutical industry’s influence, could offer such transformative results.

After the two-week program, the difference was not just felt; it was measurable. Every metric of my cognitive and physical function had improved markedly. This experience left me with a bittersweet realization: had such treatment been available sooner, my military career might have taken a different trajectory.
Returning home, my healing journey expanded as I explored various entheogens, including ketamine-assisted therapy and additional psilocybin ceremonies. The neuro-regenerative properties of these substances, supported by research, became pillars of my recovery, catalyzing profound and lasting changes within me. However, it was the integration of these experiences — the diligent, ongoing work to apply the insights gained — that cemented their transformative impact.

My meditation practice evolved, enabling me to tap into a state of divine awareness, a realm that once required the key of entheogens to access. This serene state, which some may find through dedicated meditation or prayer, became a natural haven for me, a place of tranquility that I could reach unaided.

Reflecting on the broader cultural landscape, I pondered the stark contrast between our society’s view of entheogens and that of indigenous communities. For the Shipibo and the Bwiti, these substances are interwoven into the fabric of their existence, celebrated as national treasures. The profound connection they foster from birth is a testament to the wisdom and love that permeates their cultures.

A decade has passed since my injury in the military, and it has been three years since I started my path to recovery through indigenous medicine. Now, liberated from the need for psychotropic pharmaceuticals, I stand as a testament to the resilience and adaptability of the human spirit. My transformation has been embraced by my wife and family, who have witnessed the enduring nature of the changes within me. The journey has shaped me into a person of greater love and gratitude, a loving father and husband crafted from the trials I’ve endured.

The adage holds that a tree reaching the heavens must be rooted in hell. Through my descent and ascent, I have grown such roots and branches. It is my sincere hope that sharing my journey may light the way for others searching for their path to healing.

Written by Kegan Gill

Kegan “SMURF” Gill, a former US Navy F/A-18E pilot, overcame life-altering injuries sustained during a high-speed ejection into the sound barrier in 2014. After undergoing multiple surgeries and a two-year recovery process, he triumphantly returned to flying Super Hornets.
Kegan eventually struggled with delayed-onset PTSD and cognitive issues from a severe traumatic brain injury. Traditional pharmaceutical treatments exacerbated his condition, leading to hospitalization. Frustrated with the limitations of the VA healthcare system and grappling with overwhelming mental health ailments, Kegan found renewed hope through alternative therapies, including the use of psychedelics. Now medication-free, he continues his holistic healing journey and participates in ultra-endurance events. He also speaks and writes about his transformative experiences, focusing on mind, body, and soul wellness while raising a family.

You can get all the details of Kegan’s amazing story of survival and resilience in his upcoming book, Phoenix Revival. Due out soon!