MDMA and Grief: Debrief with the Trip Sitter
Three days after the MDMA Grief Experiment, I received a call from my trip sitter. He was checking in on me to see if I was experiencing a Molly Comedown. He was also interested in hearing my self-assessment on how ecstasy impacted my deep dive into grief and whether or not I achieved what I was looking for. What follows is a transcript of our conversation.
[1/14/24 10:05 PM] Trip Sitter: What was your overall take from Thursday?
[1/14/24 10:06 PM] Me: you mean how much did I take or did it achieve the results I was hoping for?
[1/14/24 10:06 PM] Trip Sitter: The results.
[1/14/24 10:07 PM] Me: I would say the MDMA made me more open and pliable to go through the content of the time capsules. Someone asked me if I felt a positive feeling and rushed to joy from the ecstasy. I told them it was hard to measure. Because I also had the emotions around the grief that were punctuating the experience. I also had what could be considered an MDMA afterglow which lasted through Friday sometime.
After you left my housemates came home and we went through the contents of the time capsules. They asked me questions about my life with Brian. And the significance of the artifacts included in the time capsules.
[1/14/24 10:10 PM] Trip Sitter: Happy to hear you could share that with them. Glad you found some good roommates.
[1/14/24 10:10 PM] Me: As I put stuff away that evening, I reread the letters silently to myself. I then kept out the letters that I wrote to Brian, that Brian wrote to me, that Brian wrote to himself, and that I wrote to myself. Those eight letters are very significant.
[1/14/24 10:11 PM] Trip Sitter: I figured you would keep those to look over on occasion.
[1/14/24 10:12 PM] Me: I called another friend that evening and I read to her the two letters that I wrote to myself. I cried when I read those letters. But I don’t think I cried as much as I would have had I not taken the MDMA.
So the MDMA allowed me to go someplace that I would not have been able to go otherwise.
Or at least not without a lot of preparation.
Like someone climbing Everest on oxygen.
[1/14/24 10:14 PM] Trip Sitter: So you think it enabled you to go through the process….oh, ok
[1/14/24 10:15 PM] Me: I planned to write a follow-up article this weekend, but it did not happen. It will in the next couple of days.
[1/14/24 10:16 PM] Trip Sitter: So, happy with the procedure and results…considering the circumstances
[1/14/24 10:17 PM] Me: I have a lot to sort out. Not for me but for the article. The article should be about MDMA and its impact on the experience of grief. Another big part of this is the time capsule. And the letters. That could distract from the article and I don’t want it to.
[1/14/24 10:18 PM] Trip Sitter: That makes sense. I can’t wait to read it.
[1/14/24 10:19 PM] Me: Thanks for helping with this. I’m very grateful
[1/14/24 10:20 PM] Trip Sitter: Glad to help. What is the goal of the process?
[1/14/24 10:21 PM] Me: My goal was to be able to crack open those time capsules so they weren't this awful black hole sitting in my closet and go through the letters so that whatever they held and the feelings around them were integrated and no longer problematic. I definitely achieved that.
What I wasn’t expecting was the raw direct advice I myself wrote to me. That is a Pandora's Box to go through. Most of the letters [to the future]were fluff, like Hallmark cards. Brian’s was a bit more. And mine were like nuclear missiles.
This article is part of a series exploring the impact of MDMA on grief:
➤ MDMA and Grief (Part 1)
➤ MDMA and Grief: Launch Day (Part 2)
➤ MDMA and Grief: Five Days Later (Part 4)
➤ MDMA and Grief: Three Months Later (Part 5)
➤ MDMA and Grief: Values (Part 6)
