When we began sharing Joe’s journey with psilocybin microdosing, we did it to bring light to a conversation that most of the world still refuses to have. But what we didn’t expect was the outpouring of questions, support, and shared stories from others desperate for hope, healing, and real answers.

Now, after tracking 30 days of microdosing in detail — symptoms, mood, movement, cognition, and daily functioning — we’re ready to share the data behind what we’ve been saying all along:

Psilocybin isn’t just promising. It’s powerful.

I’ve never taken pharmaceuticals for my Parkinson’s. Not once. Not even at diagnosis. I made that decision early on—not out of fear, but out of experience.

Years of misdiagnosis and the harmful effects of medications I never needed taught me a painful but important lesson: the system doesn’t always know what’s best for me. Trusting doctors without questioning, accepting prescriptions without understanding—I paid the price for that in the past. I wasn’t about to repeat it.

Instead, I turned to nature. To plants. To the earth.

When I first learned about ibogaine, I wasn’t chasing a miracle. I was chasing hope—hope that there might be something more than pills, more than symptom management, more than just existing through the daily grind of Young-Onset Parkinson’s Disease.

I came across ibogaine in conversations, in research, in the stories people weren’t telling out loud but were living quietly behind closed doors. And what I found wasn’t just a plant with ancient roots and emerging science—it was a door that, in this country, remains locked.

There is nothing harder than watching someone you love slowly slip away — not all at once, but little by little, piece by piece.

For more than a decade, I quietly carried the weight of watching my husband change. Before we ever heard the words “Young-Onset Parkinson’s,” I watched the man I married start to disappear inside our home, behind our closed doors. The apathy, the exhaustion, the mood changes, the physical pain — all while doctor after doctor offered no real answers. He was given medication after medication for depression, anxiety, ADHD — but none of them fixed what was happening inside his brain. If anything, they made things worse.

As someone with Young-Onset Parkinson’s, I’m not just fighting a disease—I’m fighting for access, for options, and for basic respect for the human right to choose how we care for our own bodies. That shouldn’t be controversial. And yet, in the world of plant medicine, it still is.

Sometimes, our greatest struggles lead us to our true purpose. In my case, I believe this wholeheartedly. Nothing happens by accident—everything unfolds exactly as it is meant to. While it’s easier said than done, I’ve come to accept that we don’t always choose our path, whether good or bad. Instead, we must recognize when it reveals itself and use our gifts to nurture it.