My Kambo experience

I tried three Kambo sessions in a moon cycle and this is what happened:

Before I share my experience, you can read a sum-up about the medicine first or if you don't want to, you can scroll down below the frog picture and start with my story right off the bat.

What is Kambo?

Kambo is a very powerful medicine that resets the nervous system, and deeply cleanses toxins and accumulated bad energy. It is said to purify, detoxify, cleanse, and reboot the immune system.

Kambo is a traditional shamanic practice, that uses the secretion of the giant green monkey tree frog (Phyllomedusa bicolor) from the Amazon to bring about a deep physical, emotional, energetic and spiritual cleansing process. Indigenous tribes have used this frog poison to increase stamina, strength and clarity, as well as to bring luck and other good things upon themselves. https://www.lifegate.com/kambo

How is the frog's secretion collected?

The giant tree frog, where Kambo comes from, is pretty easy to track down because it makes a distinctive singing sound. Without harming them, the frog’s legs are tied with straw; the skin is then gently scraped with a stick—the collected secretions are put on bamboo sticks, where they dry, ready for future use. (The Kambo remains stable for a long time.) After all this is done, the frog is released and won’t get harvested again for at least three months. This way, he still has enough of his own Kambo to protect himself.

How is Kambo applied?

To create openings for the Kambo to go into our body practitioners burn gates on the skin. They burn the top layer of the skin with a smoldering piece of vine or incense stick. The area is small—about a 1/8″ diameter. Once the gates are made, the practitioner scrapes the Kambo off the stick, using a little water then places the little yellow balls on the opening of the gates where it enters the body. The bioactive peptides cross the bloodstream within seconds. The frog’s venom quickly enters the blood and lymphatic system beginning the ceremonial purging process. After a few minutes, you’ll often feel some nausea, or your stomach may start to hurt. At that point, some people throw up, some use the toilet, and some do neither or both. The purging is thought to eliminate physical, emotional, and energetic toxins.

I also heard that there's no poison in Kambo but only bioactive peptides. Kambo has around 12 different active peptides with medicinal effects. One of them is Dermaseptin B2 which has great potential in the treatment of cancer. Dermaseptins are powerful antibiotics found to be rapidly and irreversibly effective against a range of parasitic microorganisms, they're also entirely non-toxic to mammalian cells.

Learn more about Kambo here and here

Three Kambo in a moon cycle, why?

I read that "A basic treatment consists of applying the frog's sweat in three consecutive sessions before the end of the month, and with 8 it is already a complete one." As I explored the power of this medicine online, I knew I wanted to try at least three sessions, if not the full eight, as long as I had the opportunity and resources to do so while on the islands.

At first, I was disappointed because I couldn’t find any practitioners in the Canary Islands. However, I waited patiently, trusting that the opportunity would present itself if the time was right. Then, toward the end of March, I came across a Facebook post about an upcoming Kambo retreat in Tenerife. Without hesitation, I reached out to the organizer.

Interestingly, the retreat was set to begin on a Friday during the New Moon—a time when the Moon and Sun share the same ecliptic longitude. It felt like the perfect moment to kickstart my Kambo journey.

New Moon spiritual meaning: The new moon is a time to set intentions and launch new projects. Since new moons happen once a month and signify the beginning of a cycle, you can think of them as a cosmic reset. The new moon is an ideal time to set intentions and goals that you'll develop as the moon waxes toward fullness. The AstroTwins

Kambo no. 1

What was meant to be a group session turned into a private one when I turned out to be the only enthusiastic candidate. Before the retreat, I had read about a girl who had successfully used Kambo to clear the Epstein-Barr virus from her body. Knowing that Kambo works through the lymphatic system, I decided to focus on addressing my own symptoms caused by the active Epstein-Barr virus, which had been affecting my lymph nodes.

I also took the time to write down additional intentions for the session, which I stuck on my fridge as a reminder:

• Raise vibration

• Cleanse intestines

• Clear negative energy/ blocks/ ancestral pain

• Heal subconscious

• Attract a literary agent

However, just a few days before the retreat, an unexpected and deeply unsettling event shifted my emotional focus. I was verbally abused and intimidated by the husband of my employer at the school where I worked. The experience left me shaken to the core, cycling between feelings of confusion, vulnerability, helplessness, and anger. These raw emotions were still very present when I arrived at the retreat, inevitably becoming central to my Kambo journey.

At first glance, my two primary issues—clearing my lymphatic system and addressing the trauma of the verbal abuse—seemed unrelated. However, I believed they were somehow connected, even if I couldn’t yet piece together how. Reflecting on this connection brought me back to my childhood. My father, though not abusive, had been a loud, dominant, and often impatient figure in my life. His deep, booming voice and piercing stare often made me reluctant to approach him when he wasn’t in the mood for family interaction. While he wasn’t intentionally hurtful or violent, he could be distant and emotionally unavailable, which left its mark on me.

I realized that the way I experienced the two incidents—the intimidation from my employer’s husband and my childhood interactions with my father—felt strikingly similar. This recognition pointed me toward the heart of the matter: clearing my fear of masculine or authority figures from my energy field.

I see now that this fear has likely drawn dominant, egotistical individuals into my life who want to overpower me and silence my voice. I no longer want to attract those dynamics. I want to surround myself with kind, compassionate, and collaborative people. I want to feel seen and heard as an equal. No more ego-driven relationships or power struggles—just genuine connection.

During the first session, we followed the traditional approach, and I received the medicine on my leg. Historically, shamans would place the Kambo dots on specific areas of the body depending on the purpose. For men, it was typically the shoulders, chest, or arms—areas associated with strength and virility. For women, the application would often be on the legs or stomach, promoting fertility.

While I didn’t work with an Amazonian shaman, my practitioner was trained through the International Association of Kambo Practitioners (IAKP). Some practitioners possess an intuitive ability to select a specific spot on the lower limb for women, based on what they believe to be the most effective placement for receiving the medicine. However, my practitioner relied on her formal training, which dictated that women’s first sessions begin on the inside of the ankle.

She opened four “gates” using a burning incense stick, carefully applying the medicine dot by dot. Between each application, she observed my reactions and assessed my sensitivity to ensure a safe and tailored experience.

As the medicine began to take effect, I gradually entered a deep inner experience. I felt gentle waves of heat, my heart racing, and the inevitable build-up toward purging. Despite the intensity, I managed to stay calm by focusing on my breathing, approaching the process with curiosity and dignity. I trusted that the discomfort was serving my higher good, even as my esophagus burned from the bile and my mouth bubbled with the bitter taste of the purge.

After the treatment, I felt cold, and my stomach trembled slightly. The vegan soup my practitioner had thoughtfully prepared helped settle me, and soon after eating, I felt perfectly fine. I spent the rest of the day taking it easy, strolling through nature, and exploring the finca where I was staying for the weekend. It was a tranquil and grounding way to integrate the experience and allow my body to rest and recover.

During the session, the two cats who lived on the farm quietly entered the room and settled beside me. I was so deeply immersed in my inner journey that I didn’t even notice their presence until the treatment was complete. When I finally realized they had been sitting next to me, it felt incredibly special—as if they were my guardians, silently supporting me through the process. Moved by the moment, I asked the practitioner to take a picture of us together. She shared that the cats had never sat next to anyone on the mattress before, which made the experience feel even more meaningful. Their quiet companionship felt like a powerful, unexpected gift.

After the First Kambo Session

Following my first Kambo session, I felt a newfound sense of confidence in my decision to leave my current work environment. It was as though my vibration had shifted, opening the door to fresh ideas and better opportunities that aligned with my true desires.

I wore my Kambo scars with pride, viewing them as badges of honor—a tangible reminder of my bravery and commitment to growth. I was even tempted to show them off! However, when it came to my physical symptoms, I didn’t notice any immediate improvements in my body. Despite that, I trusted the process and felt optimistic about the changes that might come with further sessions.

Kambo no. 2

A week after my first session, I returned to the same place for my second Kambo treatment. The night before the ceremony, I had a vivid dream of a brown bear. It stood guard at the gate of the finca where the practitioner lived, the same place where I was camping. I stayed there for the entire week between my second and third sessions, and the bear’s presence in my dream felt significant. It symbolized protection, and I felt comforted by its energy.

My intentions for the frog medicine remained largely the same as before, but this time I requested that the Kambo dots be placed near my Solar Plexus chakra. The practitioner applied the medicine along my spine, opening six gates and starting with four dots at once. The intensity of the peptides was immediate. Within seconds, my face turned red, slightly swollen, and I experienced a brief period of a racing heart accompanied by abdominal cramps. My strength drained quickly, yet I didn’t feel the urge to purge right away. Shortly after the first wave, the practitioner applied the medicine to the fifth and sixth gates. That’s when I finally vomited. The practitioner encouraged me to drink more water, which triggered another bout of purging. Although I still felt unwell, my body didn’t respond with further vomiting. Instead, I entered a state of exhaustion and rested in the child’s pose on the floor. I knew my purging was complete, but the practitioner suggested leaving the medicine on for an additional five minutes.

When the Kambo was finally removed, my body began to tremble. I felt cold initially, but as I lay on my side under a blanket, I realized the shaking wasn’t due to the temperature. The practitioner explained that shaking is a form of release—a way for the body to let go of trauma or emotional experiences. This second session hit me harder than the first. My body needed more time to recover. After the ceremony, I rested in the shade of a papaya tree and even drifted off to sleep for a short while. Although I felt physically well after the nap, I took my time easing back into the day. It wasn’t until about four hours later that I felt ready to eat and socialize again.

I am absolutely in awe of my new dots along the spine! They look so cool and quirky.

After both the first and second ceremonies, I noticed an increase in dragonflies around me, much like my experiences following Ayahuasca. One giant blue dragonfly, possibly an Emperor dragonfly, caught my attention. These majestic creatures can grow up to 7–8 cm in length, and this one landed right beside me. Its vivid color and impressive size filled me with awe.

A week later I was back at the same place to undertake the second treatment. The night before the ceremony, a brown bear appeared in my dream. It was guarding the gate on the finca where the practitioner lived and where, also, I was camping. I spent a full week here between the second and the third Kambo. The bear’s presence appeared important. I felt protected by it.

Kambo no. 3: A painful journey

This time, my intention shifted from clearing out negative energies to focusing on bringing in positive changes. I concentrated on specific issues related to my health and the book I had written. During the brief meditation at the start of the session, I envisioned myself as a butterfly—a symbol of transformation and growth.

The session coincided with the Full Moon, amplifying the energy of release. My period was also due that day, and the practitioner noted that "a lot of releasing would happen." True to her words, the medicine seemed to trigger the onset of my period in the morning, bringing with it immense pain in my lower abdomen, particularly in the uterus.

For this session, we increased the number of gates to seven, which were burned into my upper left arm. The practitioner applied six Kambo dots initially, and the effects were immediate. Heat surged through my body, and I felt a wave of discomfort as nausea built up. Within ten minutes, I vomited—twice. However, the menstrual cramps quickly escalated to a level of intensity that overshadowed the entire Kambo experience. Sweat poured from my body, my eyes watered, my nose ran, and my face swelled up. I was overwhelmed with pain and exhaustion. I managed to take six sips of water at the practitioner’s urging, but I barely had the strength to hold the glass. Every muscle in my body felt weak, and even though I didn’t feel particularly nauseated anymore, I couldn’t force myself to drink more water.

When the practitioner suggested administering the seventh dot of Kambo, I protested, but she applied it anyway. She encouraged me to drink more water to trigger another purge, but I refused. My body was entirely consumed by the pain in my uterus, and I just wanted the session to end. I felt unseen and unheard, as though the practitioner didn’t trust my knowledge of my own body. Vulnerable and utterly drained, I lay curled up on the floor in the child’s pose, focusing solely on relieving the menstrual pain. Two conflicting forces were at work within me—the Kambo urging me to sit up and purge, and my body instinctively curling inward to seek comfort.

When the session finally ended, I remained in the child’s pose, taking long, deep breaths. The movements of my fingers and hands, combined with the rhythmic breathing, reminded me of the Indian Goddess and the Spider archetypes I had channeled during Ayahuasca. Slowly, these actions brought me a measure of comfort, but the sharp pain persisted. My body began to shake violently, a process the practitioner explained as another form of release. The shaking continued for at least 20 minutes, leaving me sweaty and agitated as I gradually regained some strength. Eventually, I reached for the lentil soup prepared by the practitioner, eating slowly despite my swollen lips and trembling hands. The swelling in my face and lips was so pronounced that I looked as though I’d had a botched facelift. I took a photo of myself but decided against sharing it—it was far too graphic.

After finishing half the soup, I moved outside to sit on the stairs, still weak and worn out. I spent the next two hours lying in my tent, exhausted and grappling with the lingering period pain. As I rested, a butterfly flew into the tent, circled above me, and then left. It felt like a small sign of encouragement, especially since I had seen many butterflies around the garden after the session.

By the evening, I began to regain some energy. I took a shower, washed my hair, and managed to eat something solid. The swelling started to subside after 5 PM—seven hours after the ceremony—helped by magnesium and a bit of yoghurt. However, it remained slightly noticeable the next day. For the first time since the COVID outbreak, I was grateful to wear a mask to hide my face.

The Aftermath

The week following this session was one of the darkest periods I’ve experienced. I felt emotionally and physically drained, crying often and struggling to find my footing. My vibration was incredibly low, and my life felt out of order. This disorientation showed up in my eating habits, too—I began craving unhealthy foods like sweets, crisps, biscuits, burgers, and pizza. It was as if I had moved further away from alignment with my intentions, and everything seemed to oppose what I had requested from the frog medicine.

Apparently, Kambo continues its work within you for up to a week after the session, during which time unresolved emotions and physical sensations may surface. A few days after the session, I stumbled upon a YouTube clip titled Heal your Soul - Ancestral chants from the Native Americans. The vibrations of the chants resonated deeply in my stomach, unlocking a floodgate of emotions. I found myself crying uncontrollably, releasing layers of sadness that had been buried within me.

In my quest for understanding and comfort, I reached out to another Kambo practitioner for advice. She was incredibly kind and called me all the way from the UK to discuss my experience. Over the phone, she reassured me that what I was going through was completely normal and that the key was to feel through the discomfort rather than resist it. Our half-hour conversation was deeply comforting—it felt like someone finally saw and heard me. Her genuine care brought a sense of relief and validation that had been missing from my earlier interactions.

Trusting Kambo

I’ve learned that Kambo has its own intelligence. It scans the body and works on the areas that require healing, which may not always align with where you want it to focus. It demands trust—not just in the medicine but also in the process, even when it feels unbearable.

What troubled me most, however, wasn’t my trust in Kambo but the practitioner’s lack of empathy during my session. Her response—“It’s not the end of the session yet”—felt cold and dismissive, triggering a familiar ache within me. It reminded me of past experiences where my pain wasn’t acknowledged or validated.

What I truly needed in that moment was compassion. I longed for someone to approach me, acknowledge my pain, and have a conversation about why I felt it was necessary to abort the session. A kind and empathetic guide could have helped me through the experience, helping me navigate my pain in a way that fostered trust and growth. That empathy, I believe, could have transformed the session into a turning point for the better.

What could have gone wrong?

Reflecting on my third Kambo session, I realize there were several signs I ignored that could have warranted closer attention. These subtle warnings might have contributed to the challenges I faced during the session:

1. Practitioner Fatigue

   The practitioner mentioned the day before that she had done enough Kambo sessions for the week and felt tired of it. Despite this, she proceeded to host my session the next day. Her lack of physical and emotional energy may have affected her ability to hold space effectively for me.

2. Inconsistent Application

   During the session, she placed the gates in uneven circles and miscounted the burns. She initially counted six when she intended to make seven. I pointed out that I had counted seven burns, and eventually, she found the "missing" one, which was smaller than the rest and overlooked. This oversight suggested a lack of focus and precision.

3. Timing and Sensitivity

   The session coincided with the first day of my period, a day when I am usually at my most sensitive. I often experience low energy, diminished appetite, and painful cramps on this day. Normally, I would dedicate such a day to rest and self-care, avoiding any physically or emotionally intense activities.

4. Energetic Interference

   The practitioner shared that she had been struggling with the absence of her menstruation for months. On an energetic level, this imbalance might have subtly interfered with my experience. While I don’t claim to know her internal state, subconscious feelings like frustration or even envy may have impacted the energy of the session.

5. Lack of Heart in the Process

   The practitioner appeared to be burdened by other, unwanted responsibilities in her life, and I could sense her heart wasn’t fully in the session. Despite this, I believed I was strong enough to guide myself through the journey and that her role in applying the medicine was enough. Kambo is, after all, an inner, solo journey. However, I now question how much active support practitioners are allowed—or perhaps should—offer during sessions beyond simply holding space.
   

Could this be part of the healing process?

1. Surfacing Past Wounds for Release

Kambo, like other intense healing modalities, is said to work by unearthing what lies beneath the surface. The resurfacing of childhood memories and feelings of being unheard, unseen, or neglected by my mother aligns with this process. These unresolved wounds may have been energetically stored in my body, contributing to physical and emotional imbalances. The session could be showing me these connections so they can be acknowledged and integrated into my healing journey.

2. Parallels Between the Practitioner and My Mother

My interpretation of the practitioner’s actions as energetically similar to my mother’s may be significant. This mirroring might not be coincidental but rather a chance for me to consciously address those old patterns of feeling ignored or unsupported. Recognizing these dynamics in the present moment can help me break the cycle and respond differently to situations where I feel unseen or undervalued.

I recognized how much the practitioner reminded me of my mother, my primary caretaker. Having my period during this session might have unconsciously triggered feelings of jealousy in the practitioner—at least, that’s how I experienced her energy. This echoed an all-too-familiar dynamic from my childhood: my mother’s underlying jealousy and dissatisfaction with herself often manifested in emotional neglect and insensitivity toward me.

As a child, I frequently felt unheard and unseen by my mother. I remember one particular incident when I was crying in the back seat of the car on the way to the hospital. I was scared, but my mother stayed in the front seat, unmoved, and ignored me completely when my father asked her to calm me down. She could have sat with me to offer comfort or reassurance, but instead, she pretended not to hear me.

Another painful memory came when I was nine years old. I complained about a toothache, but my mother dismissed it. Months later, I told her that part of my tooth had broken off, but she didn’t believe me or even check. Eventually, I almost fainted at school during a P.E. class because of dizziness and a headache. When I explained to the teacher about my broken tooth, she contacted my mother, and only then did she take me to the dentist. By that time, it was too late—the tooth couldn’t be saved and had to be extracted. Rather than seeking a private dentist who might have been able to save it, my mother opted for the quickest and cheapest solution. After the extraction, I came home with a painful, bleeding hole in my jaw and no comfort. I curled up alone next to the heater, seeking warmth and solace—not from my mother, but from the heater itself.

Perhaps that’s why I love the sun so much. It provides the warmth and comfort I once lacked. After my Kambo session, I found myself drawn to the sun again, even though part of the aftercare involved avoiding direct sunlight for 24 hours. During an Ayahuasca ceremony, I once heard the phrase, “The sun is my mum.” It makes sense now.

3. Shifting the "Invisible Child"

I want to feel heard and seen. If part of my healing involves learning how to cope with rejection or indifference, this experience might be pushing me to explore how to validate my needs independently of others' responses. The children in my classroom, who demand attention and sometimes ignore instruction, may be offering me opportunities to practice asserting myself and receiving acknowledgment in a way that feels authentic and sustainable. It’s possible that this experience was a significant part of the healing process, bringing unresolved emotions to the surface for acknowledgment and release. Through this journey, I realized something was being pushed forward for me to see more clearly. In retrospect, I realized this Kambo journey was about shifting the energy of the “invisible child” within me. If I want my book to be heard and seen by a literary agent, I first need to feel heard and seen myself. I must believe that I deserve recognition. But how?

I’ve already taken a step by asking for help. Clearly, I believe I deserve to be heard, or I wouldn’t have sought support. Perhaps the real issue lies in how I respond to rejection when my need for attention isn’t met. While I can’t control others’ reactions, I can control how I feel about them. This realization may hold the key to my healing.

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Apparently, 3 Kambos are very strong and I should experience a shift or something that you call "better" in your life. I didn't notice positive changes within or around me apart from the physical move to a new location that had already been in progress before the ceremonies.

The last, third Kambo messed me up greatly and I feel I lost the connection to the path I was shown before.

Physically, my arthritis is still active in my finger— despite it's said that Kambo can be effective against inflammation/ arthritis in the body,— my chronic cough persists, and my lymph nodes remain swollen (though they seem slightly less so than before). Emotionally, I feel like the deeper I dive into healing, the more challenges arise. It feels as though I’m no longer myself. Right now I feel I am trying to overcome a lot of patterns that were passed down to me.

Thank you for reading. ♡

See you next time!