- Joined
- Feb 8, 2006
- Messages
- 65,043
Erin I can't believe I never posted a Shrine thread for you. It was just the 2nd year anniversary of your death, Alex and I were talking about it last night, another unexpected fentanyl overdose. You were my sister from another mister, I loved you very much. First I got to know you and Alex on here, eventually we modded PD together. And then you told me you were moving to my town. I was excited and nervous because you guys were the first Bluelighters I ever met, and you remember L (my wife at the time) was really unsure about meeting "weird Internet people". But we became fast friends, it just worked. I remember when Sadie was a little puppy... she's got gray in her muzzle now, how wild is that? I bet you didn't get to see that.
Years later, you were really there for me in a profound way when L and I split up. With your help, I navigated that space and found myself again. In the years that followed we all grew closer and closer. Of everyone I know here where we live, you guys are my closest family. Well Alex still is and you were.
It was unspeakably horrible to watch you fall apart. I sometimes wonder if you were almost always blacked out on etizolam. You tried it for your anxiety and it created a monster eventually. And the intense amount of 3-MeO didn't help, or the whiskey. You insisted it was all helping but we all could see so clearly it wasn't. It was really hard to talk to you about. I wish I had tried harder, earlier. You became awful to be around 90% of the time, you were like a different person. The last 6 months before you became yet another fentanyl statistic, we had all already started to mourn you, it felt like tha person we knew was gone, I didn't recognize you in your eyes. We all talked about it later once we were able to talk about it. It was soul-crushingly terrible. I know it must have been even more terrible for you but you have to understand the pain and confusion and frustration and, ever increasingly, anger. You did some messed up stuff, but I know it's because of the gaping hole somewhere in your soul that you needed people to fill. But no one else can fill those kinds of holes, you have to figure it out and fill it yourself... but first you have to face the fact that there's a hole in the first place. Me and Robbie always tried to keep up hope that you'd figure it out, that this was just a really low point. But you decided to do some heroin on a ton of benzos one day, right after posting about your plans for the next week you were excited about, and it wasn't heroin after all, according to the toxicology report. You were alone and according to the coroner's report, you pitched forward face-first off the couch and broke your nose and laid there until you expired. For a while I couldn't stop thinking about those last moments for you. Were they terrifying? Peaceful? Were you aware of them, were you trying to breathe frantically? Or was it a loss of consciousness and an unknowing slip away? Did you know it was going to happen? That's the hardest question for me to face, I still don't like to think about it. I wish you hadn't been alone.
Ah Erin, I miss you. I miss that amazing person you were before drugs twisted you up, for the vast majority of our friendship. So warm and enthusiastic and empathetic and intuitive. You had a somewhat matronly presence, in a nice, comforting way. You had an infectious laugh, and literally the best hugs out of anyone. You had a real gift for choosing the perfect music, but only when it really mattered. For a long while I only remembered the version of you at the end when I thought of you. I have a lot of regrets, even still. I tried to help you a lot, I would talk to you when no one else would. But I pulled away too at the end. It was too much for me, I was too angry, too disgusted even, I couldn't handle being around you. And then you died and all I could think was, I should have been there, I could have done more. Last year, I had what felt like a meeting with you during a smoked MPT experience, where we forgave each other and I finally saw you as the person I knew for many years before the dark times. You gave me a big hug and waved bye, and told me you were sorry for how you acted and you forgave me and that I was a great friend. I hope that was real. I hope you can read this too because I just needed to tell you that I'm so sorry that I ignored your call that same day that you overdosed. So did Robbie and it ate him up bad for a while, he had a very hard time with that, and the fact that the last time you guys communicated he said some harsh things to you. Since I'm assuming at this point you can get this message, he would definitely want to apologize, too. I should have said who the fuck cares if I'm mad, this is my family and I am going to step the fuck up. No one wanted to say the full extent of what they thought, myself included, because it would result in anger and yelling and crying and it wouldn't reach you at all. But we should have tried harder... I took the path of least resistance. Not least resistance, but not nearly as much as it could have been, as much as was needed. Maybe we could have gotten you to admit you needed help and get into a detox and rehab and counseling. I'm so sorry I failed you in the end. I will always regret it, and I will always regret that you died feeling rejected by everyone, even your mom. We ALL still loved you dearly, I hope you know that. I hope very much that you're resting in peace, or even better, having crazy adventures in hyperspace, welcomed as a priestess.
I guess the reason why this Shrine post is 2 years coming is because it's been such a complex emotional clusterfuck dealing with this and coming to terms with it. Alex, Matt, Robbie and I were in shock for a while. I couldn't even cry for like a week or feel any emotions. I would still find myself being mad at you and replaying scenes and then I'd realize you were gone and feel horribly guilty. Some of your massage friends who didn't know you anywhere near as well as we did and basically saw you a couple of times of year, briefly, threw a sort of funeral celebration like 5 days after you died or something and none of us except Alex came. We just couldn't, it was too unreal, it was too soon, and it felt really weird that someone else was doing it and not us. People who didn't know talked shit about us for it too, and I felt awful and also justified, like, we'll deal with this in the way we need to, thank you very much. It just wasn't something I could do at that time, the hurt was too deep and confusing. I hope you can understand that it was NOT out of lack of love for you. I loved you like family, really and truly, and I still do. It was because of how damaged that love had become and how stunned I was at how awful our last interaction was, and guilty, and in shock, and all sorts of things. We never did have an official memorial service for you, but we memorialize you by keeping you in our hearts, telling stories, remembering great times, talking about what you'd do if you had been here for that thing that just happened. Truly remembering you and keeping you alive in the world. I used to feel really strange and shitty for not ever trying to give you a proper sendoff, but our way feels right.
But it is high time you had a memorial from me, so here it is, albeit, shamefully 2 years late. I hope you don't mind me sharing some of your story, please know that I remember you now for the bright, radiant DMT fairy* that you are. ❤ And it was very therapeutic because I have never said or written some of that stuff, to anyone, or even really all the way to myself. The honest truth is that you failed us, and we failed you, and it was just fucked up all around, we were justified in our reactions and you were justified to feel hurt and betrayed by our reactions. But also, it's a lesson that as much as most people reading this may love drugs (*raises his hand the fastest*), they can take control of your life unexpectedly and change everything. Be careful everyone, SO many Bluelighters are now gone, it's not always because of drugs but usually it is. Please take care of yourselves, I don't know how many more I can take. ❤
*Seriously though, this woman had a gift for blasting people off and guiding them to full breakthroughs, it was beautiful to watch. One of her many wonderful qualities that I miss.
Years later, you were really there for me in a profound way when L and I split up. With your help, I navigated that space and found myself again. In the years that followed we all grew closer and closer. Of everyone I know here where we live, you guys are my closest family. Well Alex still is and you were.
It was unspeakably horrible to watch you fall apart. I sometimes wonder if you were almost always blacked out on etizolam. You tried it for your anxiety and it created a monster eventually. And the intense amount of 3-MeO didn't help, or the whiskey. You insisted it was all helping but we all could see so clearly it wasn't. It was really hard to talk to you about. I wish I had tried harder, earlier. You became awful to be around 90% of the time, you were like a different person. The last 6 months before you became yet another fentanyl statistic, we had all already started to mourn you, it felt like tha person we knew was gone, I didn't recognize you in your eyes. We all talked about it later once we were able to talk about it. It was soul-crushingly terrible. I know it must have been even more terrible for you but you have to understand the pain and confusion and frustration and, ever increasingly, anger. You did some messed up stuff, but I know it's because of the gaping hole somewhere in your soul that you needed people to fill. But no one else can fill those kinds of holes, you have to figure it out and fill it yourself... but first you have to face the fact that there's a hole in the first place. Me and Robbie always tried to keep up hope that you'd figure it out, that this was just a really low point. But you decided to do some heroin on a ton of benzos one day, right after posting about your plans for the next week you were excited about, and it wasn't heroin after all, according to the toxicology report. You were alone and according to the coroner's report, you pitched forward face-first off the couch and broke your nose and laid there until you expired. For a while I couldn't stop thinking about those last moments for you. Were they terrifying? Peaceful? Were you aware of them, were you trying to breathe frantically? Or was it a loss of consciousness and an unknowing slip away? Did you know it was going to happen? That's the hardest question for me to face, I still don't like to think about it. I wish you hadn't been alone.
Ah Erin, I miss you. I miss that amazing person you were before drugs twisted you up, for the vast majority of our friendship. So warm and enthusiastic and empathetic and intuitive. You had a somewhat matronly presence, in a nice, comforting way. You had an infectious laugh, and literally the best hugs out of anyone. You had a real gift for choosing the perfect music, but only when it really mattered. For a long while I only remembered the version of you at the end when I thought of you. I have a lot of regrets, even still. I tried to help you a lot, I would talk to you when no one else would. But I pulled away too at the end. It was too much for me, I was too angry, too disgusted even, I couldn't handle being around you. And then you died and all I could think was, I should have been there, I could have done more. Last year, I had what felt like a meeting with you during a smoked MPT experience, where we forgave each other and I finally saw you as the person I knew for many years before the dark times. You gave me a big hug and waved bye, and told me you were sorry for how you acted and you forgave me and that I was a great friend. I hope that was real. I hope you can read this too because I just needed to tell you that I'm so sorry that I ignored your call that same day that you overdosed. So did Robbie and it ate him up bad for a while, he had a very hard time with that, and the fact that the last time you guys communicated he said some harsh things to you. Since I'm assuming at this point you can get this message, he would definitely want to apologize, too. I should have said who the fuck cares if I'm mad, this is my family and I am going to step the fuck up. No one wanted to say the full extent of what they thought, myself included, because it would result in anger and yelling and crying and it wouldn't reach you at all. But we should have tried harder... I took the path of least resistance. Not least resistance, but not nearly as much as it could have been, as much as was needed. Maybe we could have gotten you to admit you needed help and get into a detox and rehab and counseling. I'm so sorry I failed you in the end. I will always regret it, and I will always regret that you died feeling rejected by everyone, even your mom. We ALL still loved you dearly, I hope you know that. I hope very much that you're resting in peace, or even better, having crazy adventures in hyperspace, welcomed as a priestess.
I guess the reason why this Shrine post is 2 years coming is because it's been such a complex emotional clusterfuck dealing with this and coming to terms with it. Alex, Matt, Robbie and I were in shock for a while. I couldn't even cry for like a week or feel any emotions. I would still find myself being mad at you and replaying scenes and then I'd realize you were gone and feel horribly guilty. Some of your massage friends who didn't know you anywhere near as well as we did and basically saw you a couple of times of year, briefly, threw a sort of funeral celebration like 5 days after you died or something and none of us except Alex came. We just couldn't, it was too unreal, it was too soon, and it felt really weird that someone else was doing it and not us. People who didn't know talked shit about us for it too, and I felt awful and also justified, like, we'll deal with this in the way we need to, thank you very much. It just wasn't something I could do at that time, the hurt was too deep and confusing. I hope you can understand that it was NOT out of lack of love for you. I loved you like family, really and truly, and I still do. It was because of how damaged that love had become and how stunned I was at how awful our last interaction was, and guilty, and in shock, and all sorts of things. We never did have an official memorial service for you, but we memorialize you by keeping you in our hearts, telling stories, remembering great times, talking about what you'd do if you had been here for that thing that just happened. Truly remembering you and keeping you alive in the world. I used to feel really strange and shitty for not ever trying to give you a proper sendoff, but our way feels right.
But it is high time you had a memorial from me, so here it is, albeit, shamefully 2 years late. I hope you don't mind me sharing some of your story, please know that I remember you now for the bright, radiant DMT fairy* that you are. ❤ And it was very therapeutic because I have never said or written some of that stuff, to anyone, or even really all the way to myself. The honest truth is that you failed us, and we failed you, and it was just fucked up all around, we were justified in our reactions and you were justified to feel hurt and betrayed by our reactions. But also, it's a lesson that as much as most people reading this may love drugs (*raises his hand the fastest*), they can take control of your life unexpectedly and change everything. Be careful everyone, SO many Bluelighters are now gone, it's not always because of drugs but usually it is. Please take care of yourselves, I don't know how many more I can take. ❤
*Seriously though, this woman had a gift for blasting people off and guiding them to full breakthroughs, it was beautiful to watch.
One of her many wonderful qualities that I miss.
