Mollie Rock Bottom

I’m writing this because the only piece of consistency I’ve had forever is having a pen and paper or keyboard to gather the words that make sense to me. It has been the way I heal, teach, and perform my best. Writing is something I can never stop getting better at, and when I don’t utilize it, there is a correlation in the clarity of my headspace. I’ve never been the best at face-to-face communication. My mouth is faster than my brain, so I say the wrong things too soon or let myself down by not bringing up certain things because of the demeanor of the conversation. Anyways, the pieces of writing I have produced have always been something I am very proud of. It is something that holds me together, and I also know that people learn from others’ mistakes, so I’m deciding to share my story publicly, so people can grow from me, and maybe I will be able to understand myself along the way.

Saturday was the hardest but most moving day of my life. My brain is flooded with memories, imaginary hopes, and words I want to say to people but can’t. I would do anything to sleep, but I work in less than 2 hours and am giving up the sleep to cope with writing out my insufferable thoughts.

It’s 5:12am on June 23rd, 2024. Which reminds me, I was arrested for drinking and driving 3 years ago today. I wish that the reckless and selfish 17-year-old me would have known the future of hurricane events that have destroyed, rebuilt, and killed pieces of me up until now. People always say to “live with no regrets,” but lately life feels like part of my schedule is dedicated to regretting nearly everything I’ve ever done.

There is some quote from BoJack Horseman that opens with “Rehab was supposed to be a fresh start…” How comical. In February, I made the decision to spend all my life savings to send myself to rehab because I was struggling with a life-or-death battle so deep in addiction. I had so much hope for myself while I was there, but nothing could prepare me for the tragedy I would be faced with and am still trying to process. I’ve never lost so much in my life. But, once I got back from rehab, I lost pillars of my life that shaped the person I am. First, my job, which I am still so oddly attached to. Honestly, I know part of why things got so bad was because of that job, and I felt so spread thin and defeated. I also learned that all those people who say they care don’t give a fuck about you when you aren’t spending 40-hour work weeks with them. But trust me they will call themselves a family. Once they can’t get something out of you, what is in it for them. But I was sad about this for a while, and sometimes still am. I guess the way I felt in that situation was when I was at a low and needed certain people the most, I was left feeling like I was too much of a liability and was pushed away from a place I felt I was closer with than my own parents. But just as I was finally starting to feel happy at a new establishment and leave the old one in the past, something detrimental happened.

I got the call about Poppens… 

My last day working with him, I broke down. I was drained, severely depressed, and something just broke me that Sunday morning he was managing. He came into the manager’s office with me, and I told him everything. He knew about my fun little habits, but he didn’t know the stuff that led me to such destructive coping mechanisms until we were both in tears in that office and he just held me. He told me about how we spend so much time trying to slay our dragons and shifted my perspective to loving our dragons instead. All those bad traits that everyone has, we spend time hating and trying to change. But Poppen’s and his beautiful optimism made everything seem like it was going to be okay because I would be able to love what I learned from those mistakes and regrets. He helped me conclude that I needed to seek help for my mental state and substance issues, and I am forever grateful for that.

I think my biggest regret in my relationship with Poppens is that while I was in rehab, I wrote a lot. In a personal journal, and I wrote a lot of letters to people. However, I only gave a few people the letters. I nearly forgot about Poppen’s note until I got the call that he took his own life. I was never able to thank him. He will never get to read the note I had for him, or this document I’m typing now. I regret this. So much. He needed people like how I needed him that day at work. Maybe if I would have given him this letter, it would have prevented some things. But maybe not. No one will ever know. 

I spend so much time in my head these days thinking about Poppens. I have grown to admire and love him more now that he is gone. The only thing harder than this, is that I feel that exact same way with my forever angel Dominic. Not a single day will ever go by when I won’t wonder why this happened to him and not me. He was an impeccable human being, and his loss has changed the trajectory of how I will spend the rest of my life. Truly the kindest most loving human being anyone could know. And for years, I have been this deranged, unpredictable, hateful person. But he chose to love me. He loved me in ways I will never be able to feel again. Now that he is gone, I loathe myself for not being present enough to appreciate how lucky I am to have experienced him. A piece of me died with Dom. Part of me feels like I’ll never be able to move forward. I see him in my dreams if I’m lucky. Usually, they are night terrors of me thinking he’s there and then waking up and losing him again every day. I’ve never been more in love with him and he’s not here. I regret not spending every second I could with him. I am a better person because of him. But losing him has made me feel shades of blue and grey that I would never wish on my worst enemy. I wish I could cry him back to life. I don’t know how to pull myself out of this void. I just miss the way things were a year ago. 

It was just about a year ago that Dom and I got close, and for the first time in so long, he brought vibrance into my world. I never had a serious relationship before him, but he was able to break down my walls and I felt like I could do anything and everything around him and he would still see the best in me. The summer and fall we had together were truly the happiest months I have felt since I was a kid. Then this darkness started to consume me again, and it caused rifts in our relationship. Neither of us were perfect, but every day I think about how Dom deserved better than me. Even when we were breaking up, he promised me he would be there in a heartbeat when we were both okay enough on our own to be able to elevate each other in a relationship. He never stopped being my best friend. We talked every day. He only ever wanted the best for me. I don’t think that boy had the capacity to hate or hold things against people. He was too good. And far too young. And all I want to do is tell him how sorry I am and how much I love him. 

In November, there was a night that I should have died, and Dom had to witness me almost overdose, I don’t really know what happened, but I was self-medicating in terrible ways at the time. I woke up in the hospital and Dom was in the lobby, but they wouldn’t let him come to me. I woke up so confused and hostile in the hospital and all I could do was scream his name. I hated those EMTs so much and ripped the IVs out of my arms spraying blood all over the floor while I ran out of the hospital to meet Dom. The whole entire car ride home he cried harder than me because he cared more about my life then I did about my own. It was so selfish, the way I put him in that position.

In late January, we had a heart-breaking conversation. We were trying to figure out what this break was, and if we were going to split up or try again. For close to 2 hours, he sobbed with me on my bedroom floor because neither of us could figure out what to do to make me happy. I could not be in a relationship with someone when I despised who I was as an individual. I just know that after all the good, the bad, and the ugly, we were completely honest about everything. We promised to stay friends, which we did, and both of us knew that one day when we were older and had ourselves figured out, we would try again. After everything I put him through, he still wanted to be with me. This is just the type of person he was, but really Dominic is something one of a kind. This tragedy has uprooted the lives of so many, and I don’t believe some will be able to recover from it. My heart aches for his family. It breaks me to see his friends and know that they are missing one of their brothers. For me, this whole situation is finally starting to feel real, but something in me wants to believe I will get shaken awake, and this has all been a retched dream…

On a contrary note, I have so much support from this new life I’m accepting. I work in a position that I find joy in challenging myself to do better every day. I get coached in ways that make me want to portray the best version of myself. Getting acknowledged when people recognize good work can make the environment a place that they can excel and advance in. I am so thankful for these people, and this bartending thing has become a beacon of light for me. Making genuine connections with people while experimenting with this whole sub section of culinary art is something I look forward to every day. When I surrounded myself with people who see me for what I could be, and not as the mistakes I made, I was willing to indulge myself into becoming the best at it. 

My friends are so beyond amazing. As I continue this blog, I will also be able to unravel the stories of them and how lucky I am to have even met these people. I love all my friends so much, but I can’t say that I would still be here if I didn’t have Sasha with me. The fact that Jack took his life the month before Dom died has formed a bond between us that is truly unbreakable. She is the only one who will understand the way laughter turns into sobbing and putting on a front so people will stop worrying about you. Both of us have this “life of the party” personality, but only her knows who we turn into when the lights go off and we can only talk to the demons in our head. She gives me faith that maybe, just maybe, everything might be okay again. Getting out of bed in the morning will not always be this difficult. My pillows won’t always be stained with mascara. I might just be able to smile genuinely again someday.

            Jack, you were my friend. I’m sorry I didn’t do more for you while you were here. You taught me to be careful when I make promises. And when I do make those promises, I cannot break them. You will be loved forever. I hope you are at peace now.

            Poppens, you were my mentor. You brought out the fierce dragon in me and had one in yourself. That has given me the discipline to not give up. I promise to always let your love live through me, and I will think twice before I do things more often. I feel so bad about everything that pushed you to the place it did. 

            Dom, you are the greatest loss of my life. I miss you more and love you more with every beat of my heart. I don’t know if this lump in my throat will ever go away. But I know that your existence touched so many people, and I promise to be a better person. I’m grateful that you had the chance of knowing Jack too. And you were the first person I called when I heard about Poppens, who I know you also loved. 

One of the better times I had at the dive bar all three of us worked at was around Christmas. I spent actual money to make these hysterical AI-generated Christmas photos, and the two people I made them of were Dom and Pops. We thought these pictures were just so funny, and we built a gingerbread house with Poppens coming out of the chimney. This is one of my happiest memories, and it wasn’t until Poppen’s service when some of the AI photos were displayed that I remembered it. I can’t believe these incredible men have been taken from me. Way too soon. And fuck anyone who thinks everything happens for a reason. This isn’t fair.

I don’t understand why, at Poppen’s ceremony, I couldn’t stop crying. I was disgustingly emotional and could not keep it together. I was quite emotional at Dom’s vigil, but at his life celebration, I carried myself a lot better. I only teared up once, during Berkley’s beautiful speech. I’m so happy that Dom had her and she had him. I wasn’t too emotional at Jack’s service either, mostly because I knew I had to be strong for Sasha. I don’t know why Poppen’s was so hard, because although I loved all three of them, Dom is by far the hardest for me. I think that his death is the most tragic because, unlike Jack and Poppens, he didn’t want to die. He was innocent and had so much going for him. Although I often ponder about the way Jack and Poppens were feeling, I wonder how long they felt the way they did and how long they had the plan. I have so many questions I will never know the answer to.

I want to write about the things that make me happy more. For years, I have written notes and filled journals that are almost always from a place of heartbreak, anger, and resentment. I have always spent more energy on focusing on the people, places, and events that have hurt me. I fear that if I continue this way of life, I will never find peace or self-contentment. I feel like a horrible person because I have so many people who love and adore me and have done so much for me. I have had amazing opportunities and been privileged enough to do things some people will never have the chance to. However, I still feel so down, and chase highs that have temporarily numbed me and resulted in sinking me lower.

I hope that the outcome of this blog will be me writing about the things and people who fill me up. What I want for myself is to use writing that comes from all my emotions, not just the negative ones. I want to find hope. I’m not there yet, but this is me trying. Truly trying. If you have made it to the end, thank you. Really, thank you for caring. Thank you for giving me some of your time, and hopefully this will allow you to understand me better, because I know I bottle these things up when I get asked about them. Talking is hard. It’s 11:51am on June 24^th. I started this entry yesterday morning… Where was this desire to write my entire time as a student? Oh yeah, I also withdrew from CU Boulder. Maybe I’ll go back one day, but within the past year, I have truly despised school, and need to get away from it. I’ll have time to explore new passions in life and build a schedule for myself. 

This is how you quite literally self-destruct completely. Losing yourself to addiction. Losing all your money. Losing a job you love. Losing school. Losing THREE fucking people you love. All between February, March, and April. The ways I have coped have often put me in an even worse position. I’ve spent my whole life living like there is nothing to lose, and now that I lost all these things that made me who I am, I must live like I have everything to lose. This is rock bottom. Every time I say that things get worse. But nothing can be worse than right now, in this moment. Things just must get better. They will. I know I will, or at least that’s what I’m going to tell myself. Fake it till you make it. From this point going forward, I can’t destroy myself anymore. It’s time for me to rebuild the girl that was turned into an idea of fear, hate, and sorrow. 

All the best to you reader. I hope this doesn’t scare you away.

With all my love,

Mollie