Saint Tay-Tay, Hear My Prayer
Zac’s Taylor Swift Candle
Oh Saint Tay-Tay
We ask for your melodious intercessions on our behalf
So that we can suffer these fools
who know not tolerance or compassion
Pray for us!
I’m struggling with a depression and malaise that has set in over the past few weeks. It started in the days leading up to my birthday at the end of June. I feel like my limbs are ten times heavier than normal and I’m dragging them around. Everything takes extra effort. Returning to this blog has been difficult and I’ve been talking a lot to myself.
I am not ok.
It’s been almost two months since I received one of the worst shocks of my life.
It’s still unbelievable that this happened.
We still don’t have the toxicology report and his official death certificate.
There are so many things we don’t know and will never know.
Some days I function as if nothing has happened, some days I barely keep the sadness at bay, some days it overwhelms me.
I have many one-way conversations with Zac in my head. What would he think about that dumb movie, Crawl? Why did I wait so long to see Sonic and now I can’t talk to him about it? What would he have said about the latest bullshit Trump said? How would he be thinking about virtual Otakon? Should we get one of the pandemic kittens because there are so many from the limited spay/neuter that could be done in the past few months? What does he actually think about Hamilton, now that he’s seen it? How are we going to get through this summer?
What actually happened? Were you actually suicidal? Or did you just go too far?
I watched Rocketman a week or so ago and it made me so angry. So many musician biopics where drug addiction is battled like Walk the Line, Bohemian Rhapsody and Rocketman show the artist crushed by their addiction and simultaneously it looks glamorous and part of the wild ride of fame. We watch the artist struggle and the movie shows some version of what we can assume is “rock bottom”. And the artist usually has an attempt or two at sobriety and is triumphant or dies. What you hardly see on the road to sobriety is how many times they actually relapsed in their life. We don’t see the years that were a serious struggle. How they worked every day to keep that sobriety. Rocketman is particularly shitty because you are left with the impression that Elton John went to a couple of group therapy sessions, which he completely monopolizes, to address his abuse as a child and walked out sober and happy. I had an angry, visceral reaction to this movie, like fuck you Elton John for showing this dreamy bullshit version of what you actually went through. Zac and I talked about movie depictions of the struggle of addiction but I’m not sure how he felt about Rocketman. There were very few movies that he thought were accurate. And the ones he did comment on, he mainly pointed out the parts where they depict the horrors of detox, which Zac said was hell on earth. I’m convinced part of why he didn’t get help that last week of his life was because he didn’t want to face that hell again.
I wish there had been better options for him. I wish he had a positive rehab experience that helped him live another 29 plus years sober with someone who loved and supported him, like Sir Elton did (but the real way, which no doubt included some major struggles in those 29 years). These prayers will never be answered.
