The two stages I’m going in and out of are denial and anger.
I keep thinking to myself that Molly is in rehab still and that’s why we can’t talk. It isn’t because she’s dead. It is because phones aren’t allowed in rehab and that’s why. I know I’m lying to myself. But it is easier to think about it this way.
I keep thinking that I can text her or post to her Facebook wall, and that she’ll read it at a later time.
I have sudden realizations that Molly will never come back and it hits me hard.
Anger is a reoccurring emotion. I have anger towards the people she knew. I feel angry because when she passed away, naturally, people were offering their condolences on her Facebook wall.. but they kept misgendering her and using her dead name. They would post pictures of themselves with her, before she had started transitioning. She would not have liked that. She removed all photos from before she transitioned because she didn’t want anyone remembering her as a boy. The dysphoria she experienced was one of the reasons that she abused drugs. I know that if she were still here, she’d try to brush those images off as good memories. But I know that they hurt her.
I am also angry at the people that knew her. I went to a memorial for her a week ago and there were so many people there, acting as if they knew her really well. There were even people that she hated and that they hated her…pretending they were friends. Talking to other people as if they and Molly had good memories together.
her brother had posted on Instagram that he had traveled to the west coast with his family to release Molly’s ashes into the ocean. He also said that he was happy to have met some of the family she made over here. Who was the family? Her old bandmates and housemates. They did not treat her well. They ignored her, trivialized her addiction, and were not there for her. I would be taking her to the hospital, pleading them for someone to come help. None of them did. One of them even said it wasn’t a big deal. And now she is gone, and THEY are being called family????
I am also angry because I’ve been pushed out of the picture and I’m being imagined as being this huge bitch that left Molly in her time of need. And I can understand how you can see it that way… since I left her two months before she died. But I was the ONLY one constantly in her life. Taking care of her and being there for her. Ever since the beginning. I was the one that stayed up with her late at night trying to calm her down. I was the one waking up in the early morning hours, driving for hours to go see her, and then repeating the whole process again. I was the one begging and pleading her to get better. I was the one offering support. I was a constant force in her life. I was the one that knew her the best out of anyone else in the world. She even said once that I knew her better than her mom did.
And so, it really hurts that I’m being portrayed as this sort of demon for leaving her. It doesn’t matter that I was the only one that was constantly there for her. It doesn’t matter that I was the one staying up all night taking care of her. It doesn’t matter that I was the one driving her to doctor visits and to the hospital. No. All that matters is that even though I was there for her for two years, non-stop, it only matters that I wasn’t there for her those last two months.
I left her because I cared about her so much, I was wearing myself down. I wasn’t taking care of myself. I was putting all of my own energy, into her, hoping that she would get better. She never did, and to me, it felt like she wasn’t trying as hard as she could. That is why I left her.
I feel bad because I knew that she was hurting. I knew that she missed me. I blocked her on every single thing so that she wouldn’t be able to contact me. But I was still so very much in love with her. I would check her twitter and tumblr every day, several times a day, just to see if she would say anything about me. She did. At that moment, I felt very angry. Because she was missing me but she still wasn’t trying to get better.
She tried to get my new number two days before she passed away. I hadn’t given my number to any of her friends, and so no one knew it. I blame myself for having not given it to her. I know she needed support. But it wouldn’t have mattered if she had gotten my number anyway. The outcome would have been the same. I had blocked her from my phone as well. The texts and calls would have never reached me.
I blame myself for thinking I could be there for her. But deep down, I know that I would have been pulled back in and would have dug a deeper hole for myself. I know that I would have destroyed myself for her if I hadn’t left.
But knowing that doesn’t help with the anger, and the bitterness, and the sadness. It doesn’t help the guilt. It doesn’t help with the “why are all of her friends moving on with their lives while I’m still so fucking depressed and sad?”
I think that if her friends had been better friends and had been there for her, maybe things wouldn’t have turned out the way it did. I know it’s pointless to think that way. It is what it is. And there is nothing I can do to change that. But I still just wish everyone had cared just a little bit harder. Or at least pretended that they cared about her like they pretended at her memorial.
I never thought it to be true and I thought it was an exaggeration when they say in movies and in books that everyone pretends to have known you really well after your death. But I experienced it first-hand for Molly. And now I’m left wondering, out of the people I know, who will do this fact same thing? Act like they’re so torn up about my death? Act as if we were best friends and they helped me out with so much? As if we had such good memories together?
I’m angry and I am bitter. These feelings are hard to disperse. I miss her so very much. This isn’t fair.