By the time we got to our seats, the come-up was punching through me. Not a gentle rise—no. This was a tidal wave. My heart was pounding, my skin crawling, my vision bending sideways. The music hadn’t even started yet and I already felt like I was going to crawl out of my own body.

Then the lights went down.
Bass dropped.
The crowd roared.
And I launched.

It wasn’t that I didn’t love the people I was with. I did. Fiercely.  But I also knew, deep in my bones, that love and sex weren’t the same thing. A warm body next to you doesn’t mean a warm heart is behind it.  And for me, physical connection was exploration, expression, even therapy.

The first time I ever cheated was in high school, with a boy named Matt Steale. We were dating. It was fun. He had a silver Mustang and drove recklessly fast with one hand on the wheel and the other on my thigh.

We did anal, but never "traditional" sex. I was still a virgin—whatever that meant.

I took pills that put me to sleep. Acid that cracked me open like a ribcage. I played chicken with the void, hoping maybe if I got close enough to the edge, I’d find myself.

So no, you’re not “crazy.”
You’re not dramatic.
You’re just finally telling yourself the truth.

Drugs don't always numb the pain—sometimes they help us name it. We use them not to forget, but to understand. The chaos feels like clarity when you’ve never had control over your suffering before.

And the post-nut (rather, post-bleed) clarity was unreal. 

It was as if the menstrual goddesses had come down and whispered sweet nothings in my ear about how I was misusing my gifts. I wasn’t a man and shouldn’t be acting like it. I had to live differently. 

Ever thought you might actually like playing small? You probably do and here’s why.

How did I end up here—immersed in the worlds of herbalism, sexuality, and altered states? Looking back, the threads of my journey were always pulling me toward this work—toward the wild, the untamed, the deeply taboo. This is a story of devotion to the earth, the body, and the radical act of reclaiming what was never meant to be lost.

What if addiction isn’t a moral failure, but an attempt to reconnect with something lost?

What if mental illness isn’t brokenness, but an indicator that something in our world is unnatural?

What if sexuality isn’t something to control, but something to honor?

When I first got into herbalism, I was all about chasing the rare and exotic. Rose and chamomile? Please. They were the town bicycles of plant medicine—everyone had a ride. And while I adore a well-seasoned slut, I was a total herb snob.

You were never meant to fit into a mold—you are an experience, wild and whole. Untamed Altar is more than an apothecary; it’s a movement reclaiming herbalism, healing, and self-trust as acts of rebellion and remembrance. We’re here to support your adventures—both within and beyond—so you can live fully, explore deeply, and embody the magic that is already yours.