What we talk about when we talk about adrenochrome
Few substances carry as much cultural noise and as little evidence as adrenochrome. It is an oxidation product of adrenaline, and in the mid-20th century, psychiatrists Abram Hoffer and Humphry Osmond placed it at the center of their adrenochrome hypothesis of schizophrenia: the idea, now discarded as a general explanation, that an anomalous metabolite of catecholamines could generate psychotic states. From there, it passed into literature—Huxley, Thompson—and, in recent decades, into the sewers of conspiracy, where it has become a myth without any pharmacological anchor. Between that folklore and serious research lies a massive void of data.
The following account does not resolve that void, but it illustrates well why it generates such fascination. It is a self-experiment: someone who administers the substance to themselves and notes what they perceive. It serves as a human document and as a hypothesis; not as proof.
The hours after: estrangement and mild paranoia
The most striking part of the testimony is not some spectacular hallucination, but something much more subtle: an alteration of the perceptual tone. Hidalgo describes that, during his train ride, people seemed “weird” to him, others’ gestures appeared strange and, on a couple of occasions, vaguely threatening. He miscalculated distances and felt that other people were invading his space—a detail he himself connects to observations recorded by Hoffer and Osmond—when in reality, none of that was happening.
Added to this background were marked sensations of derealization and a “paranoid edge”: the recurring impression of being watched, with everyday objects and bodies becoming disconcerting, almost comical in their strangeness. It is the type of state that is difficult to describe precisely because it is not dramatic: it is not about seeing things that are not there, but rather that the things that are there cease to feel familiar.
A curious effect also appears, which the author himself values almost as a relief: the inability to sustain rumination. Distressing thoughts about his life—completely unrelated to the substance—arose and dissolved immediately, not out of serenity but out of a kind of weariness or disconnection. Anyone who tends to overthink everything will recognize the uniqueness of being unable to do so.
Nicotinamide and the return to oneself
The second act of the story revolves around vitamin B3 (nicotinamide), taken before eating with the explicit intention of verifying two things at once: whether the vitamin calmed the discomfort and whether, in doing so, it confirmed that the adrenochrome had been active. According to the testimony, after the meal and the vitamin, a sensation of normalcy arrived, accompanied by fatigue, drowsiness, and a strong headache.
The next day, fully recovered, the author notes that the previous day he “was not normal”—something mild but real—and uses a phrase from Osmond to summarize it: “I am myself again.” Even then, small traces persisted: looking at a familiar screen, the colors and sizes seemed slightly altered to him. A third party present that day agreed that he seemed “weird” without knowing why.
The account itself makes it clear that this is as far as the experiment allows one to go. And it is worth insisting: that sequence—effect, vitamin, improvement—is exactly the pattern one would expect regardless of whether the adrenochrome had done something or nothing at all.
Critical reading
An open self-experiment, without a comparison group, without masking, and with only one person observing themselves, is the perfect scenario for suggestion and expectation to do all the work. Anyone who knows they have taken a substance “that alters perception” and then pays attention to their perception will find oddities: the examination itself produces them. Added to this is the fact that many of the phenomena described—derealization, the sensation of being watched, the estrangement of the everyday—also appear due to lack of sleep, hangovers, anxiety, or stress, factors the account itself mentions without pretense.
The supposed “reversal” role of nicotinamide is even more slippery. An improvement that coincides with eating, resting, and the passage of time does not prove that the vitamin neutralized anything. Without a blind trial and without a placebo, there is no way to distinguish the chemical effect from a simple regression to normalcy. Furthermore, the adrenochrome hypothesis of Hoffer and Osmond did not withstand subsequent scrutiny as a model of psychosis, however much it remains a fascinating episode in the history of psychiatry.
Harm reduction. Beyond the anecdotal, there is one point that admits no nuance: the intravenous self-administration of any substance is one of the most dangerous practices that exists. Injecting outside of a clinical setting carries the risk of infection, embolism, vascular damage, unpredictable acute reactions, and, in uncontrolled preparations, unknown toxic impurities. We do not describe any procedure here, nor do we recommend it: we point it out precisely to underscore that the value of this text is testimonial and historical, not a guide. If someone is experiencing persistent states of derealization or paranoid ideation, the sensible thing to do is seek professional support, not repeat the experiment.
As an archival piece, the account deserves to be read for what it is: the honesty of a psychonaut who documents his impressions and, above all, who recognizes his limits. It should be read with the same honesty—knowing that a vivid chronicle and evidence are two different things.
