The Importance of Aftercare & Recovery

As I mentioned I began experimenting with Molly at 14. Only then, recovery was easy. I barely skipped a beat after a dance filled night. I took a long hiatus from it and didn’t try it again until my late 30’s and was not prepared for the aftermath of a serotonin wasteland. I spent a week in tears. A thick fog descended all around me. I couldn’t see the light peaking around the clouds; it’s usually blinding. Usually I lift myself up from sadness so quickly it feels almost against my will. Despair, a feeling I find so unfamiliar and fleeting. Like I’m chained to perpetual hope. I made this:

And finally, after a week, the fog began to lift, and I wrote this:

After decimating all of my serotonin, I spent most of the week feeling as though I was wandering aimlessly down corridors of melting mirrors. I couldn’t find my own reflection.

Friday afternoon I collapsed. Even the unveiling, harvest, and photographing of 2 perfect dahlias lacked the joy and awe they usually contain. Tears stopped falling. Numbness settled in. A feeling worse than grief and despair. Acceptance.

A tiny spark suddenly sprung up within me. What remained of my image clawing its way up and out as I felt the sun echoing its last bits of afternoon summer warmth as Fall mornings and nights begin to creep in. I knew I had to feel it on my skin. I forced myself to put on a tank top and tennis skirt, spread lipstick over my lips, covered my swollen eyes with matching sunglasses to hide the remaining visually apparent distorted reflection, and grabbed a blanket.

I spread it carefully onto the ground, removed my sandals and felt the grass tickle my feet. Lay down and let the sun wash over me. Finally, I could see my reflection. I took out my camera.

🪞

You can read all kinds of recommendations about post Molly support on sites on my network page, but my personal tried and true since this experience is NAC, 5-htp, & vitamin C for about 5 days.