In this episode of the Shawn Ryan Show, Alex West shares his journey from joining the Navy at 17 to becoming the youngest person selected for SEAL Team Six's elite training program. West discusses his extensive combat experience across 15 deployments, including his role in Operation Neptune Spear—the mission to kill Osama bin Laden—where his helicopter crashed inside the compound. He addresses the psychological toll of continuous combat, the devastating loss of teammates including those killed in the Extortion 17 shootdown, and his struggles with PTSD, depression, and suicidal ideation.
West explains his transition from operator to trauma therapist and nonprofit founder, detailing how psychedelic medicine, particularly ibogaine treatment, eliminated his alcohol addiction and changed his life's trajectory. He now runs One More Wave, an adaptive surfing organization for veterans, maintains a therapy practice in Nashville, and advocates for FDA-approved psychedelic research trials. The episode explores childhood trauma, the lasting impact of his father's Vietnam War experience, and West's current mission to expand treatment access for veterans and civilians struggling with addiction and trauma.

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Alex West enlists in the Navy at 17, inspired by his father's service in Vietnam and a cousin in the SEAL teams. Despite his youth and self-doubt, West survives BUD/S in 1999 by breaking challenges into manageable goals—making it to the next meal or five more minutes during Hell Week. His father's tears at graduation mark a rare display of pride that deeply impacts West.
At 23, West becomes the youngest candidate ever selected for Green Team, SEAL Team Six's elite selection course. In 2003, he completes a unique 10-month training program combining assault and advanced mobility skills.
Between 2001 and 2013, West deploys continuously, participating in over 15 high-risk missions across Afghanistan and Iraq. His early deployments include pre-9/11 maritime interdiction in the Persian Gulf, followed by combat operations with the Northern Alliance after the September 11 attacks.
During a 2005 deployment in Iraq's violent Al-Qa'im region, West's mentor Bob and teammate Mike McNulty are killed during a night raid. The loss devastates West, who barely escapes harm and leads an aggressive assault consumed by rage. This moment becomes both formative and a source of enduring grief.
In March 2011, West's squadron prepares for what they believe is an Afghanistan deployment—the true target, Osama bin Laden, remains concealed. The raid carries a strict 38-minute window due to fuel constraints, forcing West to carry only four magazines with limited ammunition.
Upon insertion, West's helicopter crashes inside the compound due to rotor wash, injuring team members but leaving them mission-capable. West shoots a courier at the entrance and pursues another who uses his pregnant wife as a shield. Both are killed along with their stillborn child—a tragedy that inflicts a lasting moral wound West still carries.
After the team locates and kills bin Laden, West focuses on intelligence collection, gathering hard drives and papers before helping extract the body. President Obama authorizes F-15s to defend against Pakistani jets if necessary—a decision West views as an act of personal courage.
Three months after the bin Laden raid, in August 2011, a CH-47 carrying West's teammates is shot down, killing 30 Americans in the deadliest day in SEAL history. West attends funerals but redeploys before serving as pallbearer for his friend Heath Robinson.
The cumulative loss accelerates West's mental health decline and raises doubts about the war's purpose. Despite successful missions, he increasingly questions the war's direction while bearing the weight of assuring families their loved ones would return safely.
Growing up in Lesotho and Cairo amid violence and unrest, West experiences his father's PTSD and alcoholism firsthand. At 12, West becomes his father's confidant, frequently calling crisis hotlines—not for himself but to discuss his father's fragile mental state with safe adults. After his parents' divorce at 13, West redirects his anger into sports and later military service, seeking control and purpose.
West's 15 deployments involve killing dozens of combatants in close-quarters battle, leading to psychological numbing and recurring nightmares of close-range kills. The 2005 loss of his mentor Bob triggers profound survivor's guilt—West questions whether he's doing enough to honor Bob's memory, marking the anniversary each June 17th.
After the bin Laden raid, West grapples with the morality and purpose of continued combat, warning others about succumbing to bloodlust in unjust wars.
During his final 2013 deployment, West sits alone in Jalalabad with suicidal thoughts, assault rifle in hand. A Taliban attack on his base jolts him back to reality, reigniting his survival instinct. Upon returning, he's diagnosed with depression, PTSD, suicidal ideation, and visible brain injury. Despite qualifying for medical retirement, West refuses to step away, opting for a training command position.
In November 2019, friend Greg Andrews suggests ibogaine therapy after West struggles with alcohol and traditional treatments. West undergoes ibogaine treatment with Mission Within in 2020, ending his persistent alcohol cravings. Subsequent psychedelic therapy sessions with 5-MeO DMT bring spiritual messages from fallen friends, particularly Bob, shifting West's trajectory toward helping fellow veterans. He credits these treatments with sustaining his sobriety since 2019.
While volunteering at a Naval hospital clinic, West notices amputee veterans lack adaptive surf equipment. Inspired by a young Marine who found freedom from pain through surfing, West founds One More Wave using "Nonprofits For Dummies" as his guide.
The organization rejects typical gatekeeping, supporting all veterans regardless of deployment history or discharge status, including those with TBIs who were dishonorably discharged. One More Wave has grown to eight chapters nationwide, supporting 300-400 monthly participants and awarding over 800 grants for adaptive equipment. West emphasizes surfing's profound healing through flow states and community, replicating military camaraderie for veterans not yet ready for traditional therapy.
During the COVID-19 pandemic, a transformative plant medicine experience inspires West to become a licensed trauma therapist. He completes graduate school and gains credentials in EMDR, clinical hypnosis, and various modalities. In his Nashville practice, West intentionally restricts his military and first responder caseload to 25% to maintain effectiveness, welcoming diverse clients and encouraging them to advocate for therapies that work for them.
West serves as ambassador for Tennesseans for Ibogaine and Americans for Ibogaine, lobbying for FDA-approved clinical trials exploring ibogaine's potential for addiction, PTSD, and traumatic brain injuries. He played a central role in passing Tennessee's Hope Treatment Act, overcoming Southern resistance to psychedelic research.
West champions making clinical trials available in the U.S. so life-saving treatments aren't restricted to wealthy veterans able to travel abroad, insisting science, not anecdote or privilege, should determine ibogaine's therapeutic place.
Born in 1980 in South Africa and raised in Lesotho, West grows up amid apartheid-era violence. His father works for the World Bank while his mother teaches at an international school. Their life is "wide open" and "very raw"—car bombs detonate nearby, armed guards stand watch, and violence touches the family directly when a drunk guard holds a gun to his sister's head at a checkpoint.
Relocating to Cairo, West attends Cairo American College where multicultural exposure shapes his ability to connect across cultures. Yet danger persists: a riot escalates into gunfire on campus, and the family shelters under State Department lockdown for two weeks. West later recognizes these experiences instill his ability to work with diverse people without judgment.
When West turns ten, the family relocates to Kansas City for safety. The abrupt transition from international turbulence to Midwestern suburbia leaves a lasting impression.
West's father served as a Vietnam tactical air controller, suffering PTSD and alcoholism that persists throughout his life. The Vietnam War "never left our home," West says. After his parents' divorce, 13-year-old Alex becomes his father's emotional caretaker, visiting him at VA support groups where he meets veterans like "Magnet Ass," a repeatedly shot-down door gunner.
West notes PTSD wasn't officially recognized until 1980, long after most Vietnam vets returned. The pattern of untreated trauma and isolation in his father's generation is something West later recognizes among his own GWOT peers.
With his family broken and his father struggling, West channels his anger through sports but finds no real healing. Movies like "Navy SEALS" and witnessing his cousin Pete Scobell's BUD/S graduation fuel his inspiration. At 17, he joins the Navy, seeking family pride, personal redemption, and escape from a painful home life—motivations both conscious and subconscious that West notes are common among SEALs.
West's drinking escalates alongside combat trauma, an accepted coping mechanism in special operations culture. He traces problematic drinking to around 2008, making several failed attempts to quit through cycles of sobriety and relapse. By 2019, after a heavy night of drinking, West experiences suicidal ideation that alarms his friend Greg Andrews, who fears losing West to suicide.
Following Andrews' urging, West travels to Costa Rica in 2020 for ibogaine treatment with Mission Within. After the session, his alcohol cravings completely vanish—"a light switch had gone off." Unlike traditional 12-step programs, ibogaine addresses the neurobiological roots of addiction. West remains alcohol-free for six and a half years with no relapses or returning cravings, crediting ibogaine with ending his physiological compulsion to drink.
West also recounts transformative DMT experiences where he feels he communicates with deceased friends, including Bob Horrigan and Extortion 17 casualties. These encounters bring comfort and reframe his survivor's guilt, validating his journey and reinforcing his dedication to expanding treatment options. However, West cautions against relying solely on anecdotal reports, stressing the importance of FDA trials and scientific evidence.
West advocates for all Americans struggling with addiction, not just veterans or the wealthy. Working with ibogaine advocacy groups, he champions research legislation in conservative states, highlighting ibogaine's potential for treating addiction, PTSD, traumatic brain injury, and possibly neurodegenerative illnesses—though he notes much evidence remains anecdotal. West sees psychedelic-assisted therapy as complementing traditional support, community connection, and flow-state activities in comprehensive recovery.
1-Page Summary
Alex West signs his enlistment papers at 17, emboldened by a family legacy of blue-collar military service and a need to prove himself. His father, though haunted by Vietnam, remains a hero in West’s eyes, inspiring Alex’s sense of service. A close cousin in the SEAL teams and letters of encouragement fuel West’s resolve. Despite parental advice to wait, travel, or explore other options, West enlists directly after high school and ships to boot camp in 1998. He then attends Radioman A school and checks into Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL (BUD/S) training in early 1999.
BUD/S is a test of endurance and mental fortitude, a trial made harder by West’s youth and feelings of self-doubt, especially in a class full of elite athletes. His cousin’s support and an instructor’s advice to “make it to the next meal” become lifelines. During Hell Week, despite hypothermia, fatigue, and the anxiety of seeing strong peers quit, West survives by segmenting the ordeal into achievable steps—making it to the top of the hour, the next palm tree, or even five more minutes. Failing a dive exercise in second phase nearly ends his path, but with relentless practice he passes the next attempt. Graduation brings his father to tears—a rare display of pride that leaves a lasting mark on West.
After several deployments, his mentor Todd and others in the command encourage West to screen for “Green Team,” the elite selection for SEAL Team Six/DEVGRU. Historically, candidates are older and more seasoned, but the cadre opt to try a younger, malleable operator—West, then 23, the youngest ever selected. Despite some resistance from “old guard” instructors who see him as too green, West’s persistence and ability mean he passes, opening doors for younger SEALs in the future.
In 2003, West completes a uniquely lengthy 10-month training program that combines both assault and advanced mobility. This integrated approach, conducted only in those years, proves foundational for the evolving demands of combat and leadership roles in subsequent Afghanistan deployments.
Between 2001 and 2013, West deploys every year, sometimes more than once, participating in operations across Afghanistan, Iraq, and other theaters. He endures a relentless grind, adapting rapidly to shifting tactics and technology as U.S. special operations evolve with the war.
Pre-9/11, his first operational deployments involve maritime interdiction—boarding and securing smuggling vessels enforcing the Iraq oil embargo around Bahrain. These early “real world” missions, while less kinetic, are a source of pride and validation. On September 11, 2001, while on shore leave in Darwin, Australia, West and his team are recalled. The attacks abruptly end their humanitarian mission to East Timor, propelling them to the Afghanistan theater for combat search-and-rescue and direct action roles with the Northern Alliance, often with little training or support in ground mobility.
He later takes part in the 2003 Iraq invasion, securing oil fields and offshore platforms alongside British commandos. A training crash in Kuwait demonstrates the hazards before even reaching combat. West acts as point man on the landing, marking his initiation into high-intensity operations. The “cowboy country” chaos of those years is both daunting and exhilarating as the SEAL teams take on a range of direct action and advisory missions in both wars.
During heavy combat in places like Ramadi, Al-Assad, and Al-Qa’im—a particularly violent region—West forms a close bond with “Bob,” a Delta Force breacher nearing retirement. On a high-risk night raid in Al-Qa’im, Bob and fellow operator Mike McNulty are killed by machine-gun fire as they breach a compound. The loss devastates the team; West, who barely escapes harm, is consumed with rage, leading the team in an aggressive assault. The incident becomes both a formative moment in combat leadership and a source of enduring grief.
Rising through the ranks, West leads and manages intelligence operations for JSOC. He contributes to 15 high-stakes missions over his operational tenure, culminating in his assignment to the team tasked with the assault on Osama bin Laden’s compound—Operation Neptune Spear.
In March 2011, West and his squadron are initially briefed for a possible Libya deployment, but in secrecy, they prepare for a mission in Afghanistan. The true target—bin Laden—remains concealed through rigorous rehearsals, including critical practice navigating obstacles similar to the compound’s walls.
Operational planning centers on a strict 38-minute window imposed by helicopter fuel—if not out in time, there would be no escape, only a desperate last stand or capture. Payload restrictions force West to strip his kit to essentials: four rifle magazines, a pistol, two grenades. Ammunition and gear are pared to the limit, intensifying the sense of risk.
Upon insertion, the Black Hawk transporting West’s element crashes inside the compound due to unexpected rotor wash and heat rising from the high walls. The pilot’s expertise averts a catastrophic outcome—nose buried, tail perched on the wall, team members sustain back injuries but remain mission capable. Adrenaline suppresses pain as West and his peers execute their assault despite the chaos of the crash.
On breaching the compound, West confronts a courier and opens fire at the entrance. Pursuing another combatant, he witnesses him use his pregnant wife as a shield. Both are killed in the exchange, resulting in the loss of a stillborn child—a tragedy that inflicts a lifelong moral wound on West. He later reflects deeply on this moment as a caut ...
Military Service and Combat Experience
The life and career of Alex West are marked by cycles of trauma, loss, and determined healing. Moving through childhood adversity, the psychological tolls of combat, and his journey toward recovery, West’s story illuminates the complex challenges faced by many veterans.
Growing up as the child of a Vietnam veteran, West’s early years were spent in Lesotho and Cairo amid apartheid and unrest, environments where violence and risk felt normalized. His father, struggling with PTSD and alcoholism after Vietnam, would isolate himself in the basement to drink and recount traumatic war experiences, such as botched airstrikes and accidental bombings, to young Alex. The absence of a support system meant that 12-year-old Alex became his father’s confidant—a peculiar and heavy responsibility for a child.
Attempting to find stability, Alex frequently called crisis and suicide hotlines, not for himself but to reach a safe adult with whom he could discuss his father's fragile mental state. The hotline staff always inquired about potential abuse, which Alex denied, clarifying he was never physically harmed—his father was simply troubled. Alex’s actions revealed an instinctual caretaking role and an ability to compartmentalize complex emotional pain, traits that would follow him into adulthood. At 13, after his parents’ divorce, Alex redirected his anger and emotional turbulence into sports and later sought the discipline of military service, seeking control and purpose in environments shaped by chaos.
West’s military career was defined by relentless exposure to danger over 15 deployments. He killed dozens of combatants in close-quarters battle, experiencing psychological numbing as the act of killing became mechanical—an unhealthy adaptation to survival in war. This numbness manifested in recurring nightmares and vivid flashbacks, particularly of close-range kills involving head trauma. Over time, the initial charge of adrenaline gave way to lasting emotional scars.
A devastating loss occurred in 2005 when West’s mentor and close friend, Bob Horrigan, was killed. West, who had conducted at least 50 breached door missions with Bob, describes losing control and being overtaken by a berserker rage, desperate for payback. The survivor’s guilt that followed was profound—he felt compelled to uphold Bob’s honor and often questioned whether he was doing enough to fulfill the mission that Bob inspired in him. Each year, West marks the anniversary of Bob’s death, June 17th, with reminders that grow easier to bear as he gains some peace, aided by a sense of spiritual messages from his fallen mentor.
As the wars dragged on, especially after the 2011 bin Laden raid, West began to grapple with the morality and purpose of the mission. He questioned whether risking his and his team’s lives was worth it for a cause he saw becoming increasingly unjust. The heavy responsibility of leadership and the expectation from families back home to return their loved ones weighed on him. He warned others about succumbing to a bloodlust in unjust wars, knowing firsthand the psychological price such mindsets incur.
West’s own mental health declined sharply after experiencing mounting casualties, combat stress, and the loss of close friends. The aftermath of the 2011 Extortion 17 tragedy and a harrowing 2013 deployment pushed him toward a breaking point. During his final tour, he recalls sitting alone in Jalalabad, paralyzed by suicidal ideation, assault rifle in hand, cycling through thoughts of ending his life with the same weapon he had used so many times before. Just as he teetered on the edge, a Taliban attack on his base forced him into action, providing an ironic and life-saving jolt back to reality—his own survival instinct re ...
Trauma, Loss, and Mental Health Struggles
After serving in the military with a natural knack for innovation, Alex West recognized a critical gap while volunteering at a Naval hospital clinic: amputee veterans lacked adaptive surfboards and equipment suited for their needs. Observing improvised solutions like knots in wetsuits for missing limbs, West realized the importance of genuine adaptation in surf therapy. Inspired by a young Marine’s remark that surfing freed him from pain and social stigma, West resolved to found a nonprofit dedicated to this purpose.
Lacking connections outside the military but driven by passion, West began his journey by visiting a bookstore and stumbling across "Nonprofits For Dummies," which gave him the confidence to start small. Thus, One More Wave was born, initially with modest ambitions but soon becoming a leading provider of adaptive surfboards globally.
One More Wave rejects typical nonprofit gatekeeping. While it is easier to raise money for special operations veterans, West ensured the organization would support all veterans—not just SEALs or elite units, but anyone who signed up to serve, including those who never deployed or served on a base. Recognizing that many veterans with traumatic brain injuries (TBIs) resulting from combat are dishonorably discharged and excluded from other nonprofit or VA benefits, One More Wave welcomes veterans so long as they're honest about their situation, regardless of discharge status. West insists their mission is healing for all who served, fostering a sense of deservingness and dignity.
The organization has grown nationwide to include eight chapters and supports 300–400 monthly surf participants. To date, more than 800 grants (each up to $2,500) have been awarded for adaptive surf equipment. Its participants include world champion adaptive surfers and Olympic team members, such as triple amputee Jose Martinez, a Team USA member and world champion, and Dan Knossen, a Paralympic SEAL surfing challenging waves. West emphasizes the profound healing possible through participation and the flow state, where surfing and community allow veterans to reclaim presence and relief from anxiety and depression. The chapters also form crucial communities, replicating military camaraderie and supporting veterans not yet ready for traditional therapy.
After retiring from a career that included training SWAT teams, West struggled with mental health, a journey that reached a turning point during the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic. A transformative plant medicine (5-MeO DMT) experience outside the country inspired him to become a licensed trauma therapist for veterans. With COVID limiting opportunities, West committed to graduate school, trained extensively, and became credentialed in EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing), clinical hypnosis, and an eclectic array of therapies. His approach is client-centered, matching modalities to individual needs rather than adhering to a single method.
In his Nashville practice, West is a generalist therapist who focuses on trauma but intentionally restricts his military and first responder caseload to about 25% to maintain professional effectiveness and avoid countertransference. He welcomes diverse clients with all types of diagnoses and refers those with whom he is not a cultural or therapeutic fit to trusted colleagues. He encourages clients to advocate for themselves and p ...
Transition From Operator To Healer
Alex West is born in 1980 in Lady Brand, South Africa, and raised in the mountainous kingdom of Lesotho, a small, independent country surrounded by apartheid-era South Africa. His father works for the World Bank, bringing clean water infrastructure to impoverished areas, and his mother teaches at an international school. The family chooses to have Alex born in South Africa because the hospital there is better, despite needing to navigate countryside obstacles like herders and livestock. Even at this early age, the realities of underdeveloped infrastructure are present, with his mother enduring childbirth with minimal medical intervention and his father swatting flies in the delivery room.
Their life in Lesotho, as West describes, is “wide open” and “very raw.” The danger is constant: car bombs detonate nearby, security walls topped with broken glass enclose their home, and armed guards stand watch. At times, violence touches the family directly—at a checkpoint on the Sinai Peninsula, a drunk guard holds a gun to his sister’s head. West is also subjected to anti-American bullying at school, once being beaten by older Iranian children who surrounded him and attacked his BMX.
The family then relocates to Cairo, Egypt, where West attends the Cairo American College. Here, the multicultural environment—an international school with students from diplomatic and expatriate families worldwide—instills in him an early ability to connect across cultures. School field trips to the pyramids and the Cairo Museum give him unique experiences. Yet, violence follows: at age six or seven, a riot near the school campus escalates into gunfire on the tennis courts. Teachers scoop children to safety, using euphemisms like “fireworks” to mask the real danger. For two weeks, the family shelters in their apartment under State Department lockdown, venturing out only during restricted hours for necessities.
West later recognizes that the exposure to these dangers, combined with the immersion in a global community, shapes his perspective as someone who can work with people from radically different backgrounds. These childhood experiences become key to his ability to relate without judgment—whether operating with partner forces in the SEAL teams or as a therapist working with diverse clients.
When West is ten, concerns about instability in Africa and the desire for a safer American upbringing compel his family to relocate to Kansas City, though both Alex and his father would rather stay overseas. The loss of his network of friends and the abrupt transition from a turbulent, international world to Midwestern suburbia leaves a lasting impression on him.
West’s father is a Vietnam War tactical air controller (TAC P), having served with U.S. and South Vietnamese units. His father’s calm during dangerous situations, such as the armed checkpoint episode, reflects this background. But the trauma of Vietnam persists throughout his life; he suffers from PTSD and alcoholism, ultimately dying of esophageal cancer in 2014, believed to be linked to Agent Orange exposure, alcoholism, or both.
The Vietnam War "never left our home," West says. His father’s increasing isolation and alcoholism eventually lead to his parents’ divorce, and Alex, around 13, becomes an emotional caretaker for his father. His father loses his job due to his struggles, and West spends time visiting him, feeling responsible for his well-being.
At his father’s VA support group in Tampa, West meets other veterans haunted by war. He recalls meeting “Magnet Ass,” a Huey door gunner repeatedly shot down in Vietnam. These parking-lot gatherings provide community for men who, lacking meaningful treatment or societal understanding, turn to each other and to alcohol. West notes that PTSD was not officially recognized until 1980, long after most Vietnam vets had returned. The pattern of untreated trauma, compartmentalization, and isolation, seen in his father’s generation, is something West later recognizes among his own GWOT peers.
His mother arranges therapy for him during the divorce, but after insurance runs out, he is left to manage comple ...
Early Life Influences and Childhood Trauma
Alex West describes how his drinking escalates in tandem with the intensity and trauma of repeated combat tours in the SEAL teams. Within military culture, particularly in special operations, alcohol use is an accepted way of coping with trauma, injuries, and the loss of friends. West traces his problematic drinking back to around 2008, noting that it grew worse as the years went on.
West makes several attempts to quit drinking, trying cycles of 30 days on and off, and occasionally managing a few months of sobriety, but always relapsing. This endless cycle of failed attempts leaves him feeling frustrated and hopeless. By 2019, after a heavy night of drinking at a fundraiser, he wakes up feeling "off," plagued by suicidal ideation and deep mental distress. His friend and fellow SEAL, Greg Andrews, becomes increasingly alarmed for West's safety, expressing concern that if he doesn't intervene, he might lose West to suicide.
Recognizing the inadequacy of traditional recovery methods and psychiatric medications to address both trauma and addiction, West eventually decides he must radically change course. He stops drinking and agrees to pursue an alternative treatment route that targets both the roots of his suffering and his substance use.
Following his friend’s persistent urging, West joins a program called Mission Within and travels to Costa Rica in 2020 for Ibogaine treatment, as the therapy is illegal in the United States. At the time, though he’s abstinent from alcohol for a few months, he continues to battle strong cravings and the threat of relapse. After his Ibogaine session, West experiences a dramatic shift: his cravings for alcohol completely vanish, which he attributes directly to the neurological effects of the plant medicine. He describes the difference as "a light switch had gone off."
Unlike traditional 12-step programs or therapy alone, Ibogaine seems to address the neurobiological roots of addiction, providing West with enduring relief. He reports remaining alcohol-free for six and a half years since the treatment, with no relapses and no returning cravings. West continues to participate in therapy and occasionally attends support group meetings, but credits Ibogaine with ending his physiological compulsion to drink.
West is now an outspoken advocate for clinical trials of Ibogaine within the US, arguing that veterans and others shouldn’t have to travel abroad for access to a potentially lifesaving intervention.
Ibogaine is not West’s only foray into psychedelic medicine; he also recounts transformative experiences using DMT and other plant medicines. During psychedelic sessions and meditative states, he feels he communicates with deceased friends, including SEAL teammate Bob Horrigan and casualties from the Extortion 17 helicopter tragedy. These encounters bring comfort and reframe his survivor’s guilt.
West interprets these spiritual messages as encouragement to continue healing work, viewing his survival as purposeful. Rather than feeling paralyzed by guilt, he redirects his focus toward mission-driven advocacy and support for others suffering from trauma and addiction. For West, these mystical experiences validate his journey and reinforce his dedication to expanding treatment options.
He cautions, however, against relying solely on anecdotal reports from veterans about the benefits ...
Psychedelic Medicine and Addiction Recovery
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