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By Alyce Collins and Reannon Allison
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When I think of my sister, I can still hear her saying, “I’m really proud of you, Bald Dinie.”
That was the family nickname I earned after swinging excitedly in my baby swing. My family thought I was like the Great Houdini, and my sister Marisa never stopped using that nickname.
Marisa and I were only 11 months apart, so we were often mistaken for twins. We wore the same clothes, had the same friends, were even in the same grade. Of course, we fought like sisters do, but our bond was special.
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Along with our older sister, we grew up in a single-parent household. Our mom worked hard to provide and did the best she could. On our first day of kindergarten, Marisa and I walked to school holding hands because our mom was already at work.
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Marisa wasn’t just my sister—she was my other half. She had a heart of gold, and she loved her four children more than anything.
Unfortunately, Marisa and I both struggled with addiction. She wasn’t someone who spent her teenage years experimenting with drugs however; she was introduced to opioids at around 21, and her addiction gradually took hold.
She was prescribed pain medication on and off for years, but the situation became much worse following a terrible car accident. After that, she had consistent access to pain medication, so the issue became a much more serious struggle.
It was heartbreaking to watch Marisa struggle because addiction had already affected our family so deeply. We lost our mother to addiction, and I struggled with it myself before finding sobriety. I knew how badly Marisa wanted to get better though.
‘She Wanted Her Life Back’
Marisa tried to get clean several times. She wanted to be a good mom, wake up without addiction controlling her life, and have the kind of future she knew she deserved.
Above all, she wanted to get sober for her children. She wanted them to see her healthy again.
Unfortunately, for over a decade, Marisa went through a cycle of getting clean and then relapsing. She could still show up for her children and do the things she needed to, but behind the scenes, she was suffering.
Eventually, she went to a methadone clinic, or an opioid treatment program, because she thought it would help get her life back. Methadone clinics dispense opioids as part of a regimented treatment plan or detox.
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Marisa stopped going to the clinic in late 2011 and had been off methadone for a few weeks. She experienced severe withdrawal and started looking for another option, scouring the internet for anything that might help.
That was when she found it.
Marisa came across ibogaine treatment, a psychoactive drug that is said to reduce an addict’s cravings and help bypass withdrawal symptoms.
Marisa researched the treatment and believed it could help her break free from addiction. From what she understood, she would go through a spiritual experience over several days and come out the other side feeling like a new person, free from suffering.
She truly believed this might finally be the answer. She wanted to be healthy, sober, and present for her children. She wanted her life back.
At the time, Marisa told me that the couple administering the treatment was a woman and her husband in a private home in Utah. She said the woman was a nurse, the man was a paramedic, and they had treated their own daughter.
Importantly, ibogaine treatment was not federally approved by the FDA then, and it still isn’t now. When Marisa told me about her plan to go to this couple’s home, my first reaction was, absolutely not.
“Are you crazy? It’s not even legal. You don’t know these people,” I told her.
Marisa researched ibogaine thoroughly and believed she understood the treatment and the risks involved. She thought she would be safe and it could finally help her get sober. I know she didn’t go into this casually; she was just desperate for relief and exhausted from fighting the same battle.
I begged her not to go because I was afraid, but she made up her mind and turned it into a road trip with her friend.
‘I Kept Begging Her to Come Back’
At the end of January 2012, Marisa left Georgia and headed to Utah.
When I look back at that trip now, it’s heartbreaking. She went to Utah hoping for a new beginning. None of us imagined how it would end.
From what I was told, Marisa was in a private home and was given a test dose of ibogaine—a small amount intended to see how she would react. After taking the dose, Marisa began having seizures. The owners called 911, and because they were in a remote location, Marisa was airlifted to a hospital in Salt Lake City.
I was trying to contact Marisa throughout the day and couldn’t get in touch with her. As the hours passed, I had a feeling something was wrong.
Eventually, I received an urgent call from Marisa’s boyfriend who told me she was in the hospital. At the age of 33, Marisa suffered an aneurysm and cardiac arrest and was placed on life support.
I believe ibogaine caused it, but I cannot say that with certainty. What I do know is that she went there expecting to get better, and instead, ended up fighting for her life.
Marisa’s oldest son, who was 18, picked me up and we drove from North Carolina to Georgia. I kept calling the hospital and begging doctors to do whatever they could to save her. “Please don’t let my sister die. Do whatever you can to save her life.”
After that, we had to arrange flights from Georgia to Utah. Every minute was torture because we knew Marisa was in critical condition, all the while, my nephew and I tried to reassure each other that she would pull through.
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When we finally arrived at the hospital, I could see Marisa lying in the bed with a sheet covering her. She looked peaceful, as if she were sleeping. It was then that doctors told us there was no brain activity and they didn’t believe my sister would recover.
I remember seeing her hand sticking out from under the blanket. I went to cover it, and when I touched her hand, it was cold. It’s hard to explain what it feels like to stand beside someone who has been part of your life since the beginning and realize you may never speak to them again.
I kept begging her to come back.
On February 3, as I made my way back to the hospital, I remember how cold it was outside and the snow on the ground, but nothing felt real. How could it be if the one person who had always been by my side was almost gone?
From the moment I got the call that she was in the hospital, I hoped and prayed for a miracle. I did not want this to be the end of Marisa’s story. But when I reached the hospital, doctors said the words we had been dreading.
“It’s time to say your goodbyes.”
I was devastated. There was nothing more that could be done.
Marisa was pronounced dead on February 3, 2012, which is an especially painful date because it was also our late mother’s birthday.
We agreed to donate her organs to save lives, meaning that something good could at least come from this tragedy. Marisa always cared for others, and even in her passing, she managed to help people.
'There's an Empty Space Where She Should Be'
I believed Marisa could overcome her addiction because I knew the person she was deep down. I was sober and I wanted her to get there too. I thought we would have the rest of our lives together.
I never imagined I would lose her.
After Marisa died, I briefly relapsed. I eventually got myself together and returned to sobriety, but the grief made everything harder.
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Marisa’s children have grown up now and have children of their own. Marisa should be here to spoil those grandchildren, do their hair, dress them up, buy them things, and make memories. Her children had to grow up without their mother. My love for them will always be real, but I can never replace their mom.
When I hear about someone considering ibogaine, I think about the people who love them and the children who need them. I think about how one decision can affect an entire family.
I don’t want another family to experience what ours did. People deserve honest information, an understanding of the risks, and the opportunity to make decisions with their eyes open.
Marisa was so much more than her addiction and the way she died. She was a mother, sister, and a friend. She wanted to get sober and she deserved to get her life back.
We still celebrate holidays, decorate for Christmas, go trick-or-treating and make memories, but we do that without Marisa. We keep living, but we carry the loss with us. There’s always an empty space where she should be.
If there’s one thing I want people to take from Marisa’s story, it’s to love each other, support each other and stop judging.You never know when addiction might touch your life or someone you love. When it does, you’ll want compassion, not judgment. We’re all just trying to make it through one day at a time, carrying our pain, trauma and grief.
Marisa was just trying to find a way out, now I’m left thinking about all the things she’ll never get to experience.
Reannon Allison, 47, from Alabama is a mother-of-six who does spiritual work and energy healing. She has spoken out about sobriety and the grief of losing her sister in 2012 to raise awareness for addiction.
Newsweek’s reporters and editors used Martyn, our AI assistant, to produce this story. Learn more about Martyn here.
Contact Newsweek editors on this story: Charlotte Nisbet and Paul Donnelley.
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