I remember exactly where I was when I heard the news about Matthew Perry’s passing. I was sitting in an off-Broadway one-woman show in NYC called #UGLYCRY, produced by the fabulous Katie MACK. This show was particularly unique because it encouraged the use of phones inside the theater—we were asked to engage with her and her content from our seats. And that’s when I saw the breaking news. Her Instagram feed was being projected onto a large screen, and as she scrolled, there it was in black and white—Matthew Perry was gone.
At first, I was confused. Was this a doctored feed for the show? The performance, after all, was about death and how it affects us in the modern age of social media. Within minutes, my phone started blowing up with text messages.
Did you see the news? Are you okay? OMG, Matthew Perry RIP.
For those who know me and my obsession with pop culture, it’s no secret that I’m a Friends fan. I’ve seen every episode at least three times. I built the Friends Central Perk LEGO set during the pandemic. I have a complete set of Friends Funkos and cardboard cutouts of the actors somewhere in my garage. Just a year before he passed, a group of Sober Curator contributors and I had read Perry’s memoir—Friends, Lovers, and the Big Terrible Thing—and recorded multiple conversations about how it resonated with us.
Immediately, I knew it was his disease that took him out. As someone who has been hanging out in church basements for nearly 19 years, I’ve seen this story play out one too many times. And I never like it or get used to it.
How do you grieve someone you have never met?
Watching the new documentary, Matthew Perry: A Hollywood Tragedy, on Peacock wasn’t easy. On October 28, 2023, the news that Perry had been found dead in his Los Angeles home shocked the world. In his memoir, he had laid bare his lifelong battle with addiction. When ketamine was found in his system, many assumed he had overdosed. But nearly a year later, a bombshell announcement from prosecutors: five people—including Perry’s live-in personal assistant, two medical doctors, and an alleged Hollywood drug dealer known as “the Ketamine Queen”—were charged with conspiracy to provide him with the substance illegally. The documentary explores the case as two of the five defendants, who have pleaded not guilty, await trial.
Here’s the thing about the big terrible thing. It’s cunning, baffling, powerful, sneaky, patient, and fatal. It’s always waiting in the wings. One could argue that Matthew Perry had it all—friends, money, fame. But it wasn’t enough. Those things don’t fill the dark hole that lies beneath the surface. And it’s never a surprise to me when someone really, really funny succumbs to this disease. In my experience, the funniest people are often the ones who have battled the darkest demons.
It’s gut-wrenching to learn how many people around Perry took advantage of his addiction, his fame, and his wealth. At his most vulnerable, he was preyed upon. While I have no sympathy for the doctors or the so-called “Ketamine Queen” who facilitated his access to the drug, I do feel some empathy for his assistant. If your boss is paying you to do something that supports your livelihood, I can imagine how hard it would be to say no. At the very least, I can imagine doing it with regret and underestimating the danger.
The fact remains—some of us have to die so that others may live. Perry knew this. In the months leading up to his death, while promoting his memoir, he often spoke about his desire to make a difference, to help others struggling with addiction. For as much time as I know he spent in AA, I believe Perry understood the fundamental truth of service: that by helping others, we help ourselves. And my guess is that service was something that kept him going for as long as it did. I do believe that lives will be changed for the better because of Perry’s story, that some people will get and stay sober as a result of his tragic death.
If you are a Matthew Perry fan, I encourage you to watch the documentary, but proceed cautiously. Even though I feel solid in my recovery (one day at a time), watching it stirred feelings of curiosity about ketamine and how it might feel if I tried it. My brain just goes there. It always perks up at the possibility of feeling unsober. The difference today is that I’ve learned to let these moments pass. Sometimes they’re like gas—painful, but temporary.
If you or someone you know is in the throes of addiction, please seek medical help and find a community that can support your journey. Our Resource Guide can give you ideas for connecting, and many of our Sober Curator Contributors have shared their journeys in our We Do Recover Section.
MattMan, as Perry called himself, died alone in his hot tub. For someone known as an iconic Friend, that’s just sad. And it didn’t have to be that way.
Movie Night with The Sober Curator Sobees Score: 4 out of 5
Matthew Perry: A Hollywood Tragedy Trailer | Peacock
MOVIE NIGHT WITH THE SOBER CURATOR: We explore movies that intricately weave addiction, recovery, and mental health into their compelling storylines. Imagine us as your diligent, bee-zy movie critics of the silver screen. Our buzzing hive has meticulously curated movies and documentaries that delve into these themes, allowing you to buzz through our captivating movie review archives. Our digital shelves are neatly organized alphabetically into Drama, Dramaedy, and Documentary sections, ensuring a delightful viewing experience.
CURATED CRAFTS: The One Where Alysse Plays with Friends TV Show LEGOs During COVID-19 Quarantine
#QUITLIT: Friends, Lovers, and the Big Terrible Thing
SOBER POP CULTURE + CELEBS: All things pop culture with a sober twist. The Sober Curator endeavors to bridge the gap and break the mold between mainstream pop culture and the vibrant world of sobriety, offering a treasure trove of recommendations spanning movies, podcasts, fashion, book reviews, mocktails (or alcohol-free cocktails), and beyond. Our aim was clear: to cultivate an authority on living a fulfilling, sober life brimming with possibilities and FUN! (Big emphasis on the FUN part, as we are tired of people saying, “Oh, you’re sober – isn’t that boring?)
A Disco Ball is Hundreds of Pieces of Broken Glass, Put Together to Make a Magical Ball of Light. You are NOT Broken, Friend. You are a DISCO BALL!
Resources Are Available
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