Monthly Archives: April 2012

Apr16

In a Nutshell

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I just joined this social network called “OneRecovery”. It’s like Facebook for addicts. I needed to post a synopsis of my story. I thought I’d share with all of my 3 readers what I posted.. hehehe

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I was born and raised in Los Angeles. My dad was a star on a hit TV show from the 70’s/80’s. My mom was an exotic dancer (reformed from Catholic School I guess). I was raised by a single mom.. As is everyone else is LA I was a child actress. I looked just like Shirley Temple when I was little and worked a lot landing a couple of movies and commercials. I was always in the gifted program in school, but I had debilitating social anxieties. I only attended 2 days of high school before transferring to a very very small private school to avoid the crowds and debauchery of peer groups.

The funny thing about my story and what still really surprises me is that I have lived on both sides of the addiction fence. My sister got addicted to speed when I was 12. The pain I encountered is indescribable. My sister is 7 years my senior, yet I always looked up to her. She was my idol, my star. I would cry myself to sleep most nights when she’d get lost in the frenzy of her addiction and not come home for weeks on end. Once asleep, my nightmares grew increasingly strong; she’d be dead in her car on the side of the road. I would beg her to stop. I never understood how she could torment my family the way she did. Didn’t she have a choice in the matter? Could she see how this was killing my mom, my brother, me?

I finally understood at the age of 22, once I hopped the fence and joined my sister. Before then, I was the poster child of sobriety. I was always the designated driver. Deathly afraid of alcohol and drugs. I didn’t take a drink until I was almost 18. It felt kind of nice. I liked the warmth I felt and the way my inhibitions became erased. I never really cared for booze tho. I was always just a social drinker. Then, I found pain killers at the age of 20. Where had these been my whole life? First pill, I fell in love. Those too started out benignly. Only on Sundays with girlfriends. Then I started getting migraines and was diagnosed with scoliosis.. and doctor’s were dolling me out large, large prescriptions for anything I wanted. I had an excuse. I started taking daily and before I knew it I was popping 20-30 vicodin a day. It didn’t help that I entered a relationship a closet addict. When I met him I was still the Sunday pill taker, occasional boozer. Slowly but surely our demons joined forces .. (I don’t blame him at all.. I’ve made ALL of my own choices).

My sister was still using. I had amputated my connection to her. I couldn’t ache anymore. I just let her go and loved her from afar. Never hopeful, always expecting the worst. The one drug I swore I would never touch was meth. It disgusted me! One night my boyfriend had some and pressured me to try. I didn’t love it.. I didn’t think about it again for 6 months until a close friend of mine was just doing it on the weekends.. I thought what the heck? This will never become fulltime. Then one day in the summer of 2004, my sister called me, she needed my help. Her boyfriend had just been taken away to prison for 10 years and she was in shambles. My sister, my idol my all needed me? I didn’t hesitate. It happened to be on one of those meth weekends. She had me meet her at the boyfrineds.. what a disgusting place. Stereo equipment and items that had been bartered to her dealer boyfriend stacked floor to ceiling. There wasn’t even a place to sit. The place wreaked of sweat and hopeless dreams. How could my sister live like this? She seemed quite content and had managed to carve out a seat for herself among the filth. Little did I know by summer’s end I too would carve out a seat and join the ranks of all hopeless tweakers who begged to enter, if only for a hit.

It was the perfect storm I suppose. I was winding down on the toxic relationship I was in. I was going to college and maintaining a 3.75 gpa, but found myself lost and wondering which direction I wanted to take in life. It was summer after all, I wasn’t going to keep up this sharade for long.. right? I don’t know if subconsciously I was trying to get closer to her.. We did become closer than ever.. but by summer’s end were arch enemies. Her boyfriend’s best friend was asked to come over and check on us and make sure we were doing OK. He ended up wooing me over. God knows why? I had only ever been with 2 guys before him and I was seriously in love with each of them. He always wanted to keep our relationship private. “Your sister will kill me” he always said. Well, the night after I was intimate with him, he was intimate with my sister. It wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know until I told her after the fact that he had been seeing me behind her back all summer. Instead of manning up, he lied and said I was psychotic and that we were never together; she believed him. She 86’d me from the palace of tweakville… she claims that she wanted me to get sober. Yeah, like that was gonna happen? Instead a sheltered little girl from Suburbia was left to her own devices.I had never bought speed or hung with a circle before. Just my sister and the guy who two-timed us. Boy, what an ugly world. I ended up being date raped, getting into 3 car accidents in one month, selling my ass, taking residence with a sociopathic, porn star, pimp/prostitute who stole all my money and turned me out. I was not prepared for that world I entered. Ugly is an understatement.

For 2.5 years I chased my addiction on the streets. Doing what I could to survive in LA of all places. New Years eve 2006 was when I hit my first rock bottom. I literally slept on the streets in the coldest night of the year. It probably was a god send because I took the first plane out to Las Vegas to live with my mom. I white knuckled it for 3 years in regards to the speed. Now the pills were another battle, but soon I got off those too a year after I got to Vegas… Before I got off the pills and after.. I became a solid citizen, I worked full-time, I was closer than ever with my family and my friends from childhood.. Not one slip up with speed, not a thought.

I heard a term recently that’s used in AA that I love – Don’t put yourself in slippery situations, if you don’t want to fall (or something to that affect). Well, last year, that’s exactly what I did. I was working for a company that was downsizing and they hired me on to pick up the pieces. I was a wreck. working 12 hour days, dealing with an asshole for a boss. I decided to take a vacation to see an old friend. I met him in the druggie world in LA.. but we always seemed to have this bond that went far beyond drugs and even during times of sobriety we would hang out and have good clean fun. This time was different. I got to the airport. We got to the car. He said “I have this fire speed”. I told him he was nuts I was never touching the stuff again. I went to sleep that night and tossed and turned.. “Maybe I could do it just this weekend?” “No one will know.” “I can’t even get it in Vegas if I wanted to”, I thought.. I woke up at 6am that morning. Met him in his studio (he’s a musician) “OK… Lemme do a line of that.. Just promise me you won’t let me take any home and I have to sleep everynight I’m here” .. Boy, the rational of the addict.

I came back to Vegas.. with just enough on me to get me through my work week. After the comedown. I took a sigh of relief. I’m glad that’s over. Well, it wasn’t. And, it turned out I did know someone who got high. I was laid off. I had a decent unemployment paycheck and I was off to the races.. again.. This time wasn’t as bad.. but I did manage to get arrested once with drugs on me.. I just completed my program for the courts.. I slipped back into pain killers for a few months, I did dabble in prostitution again, I did lie and cheat and steal from my family.. I made friends with people that were like vampires. They wanted to suck me dry for all my energy and my money – I let them.

I just turned 30 in January. Months before that I kept telling myself “OK – when you’re 30 enough is enough.. you have to quit”.. 30 came and went. Not a thought. It was a Thursday night, Feb 8th I had just gotten my UI money. I spent it all in one night on drugs and a poker machine that made me her bitch. I got to my car and fell apart. I couldn’t stop crying. It was my mom’s birthday the day before – All I could hear were her sobs through the phone begging me to get better. I didn’t even see her on her bday.. What was I doing?

I decided enough was enough. I drove to my mom’s.. I came through the door at 4 am.. I asked if she’d let me stay with her so I could get better. She agreed. It’s been a little over 2 months. I have been blogging and trying to connect with the reason this all started. I’m thinking of writing a book. It’s such a journey. I have learned so much about the world and people that I don’t think I would’ve learned had I stayed in college.. but what I wouldn’t give to throw the clock back and stay on the right path and go to college. My only hope is that the pain and daily struggle was not in vein. I can’t have wasted my life in la la land on a life without purpose.

Apr14

Crystal

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Oh Crystal, sweet tragic soul. Why did you grace us with your spirit for such a remarkably short time? Crystal was hard for anyone to understand. She was beautiful, crass, rude, spirited, and loyal to the death. She wasn’t beautiful, she was gorgeous. Gwen Stefani would be jealous of her looks – even though similar, Crystal’s was more ethereal and timeless. She had a fascinating style, “sleeved” arms, a punker pink style.. fluorescent or platinum hair. One might think that tattoos and funny colored hair would detract from a pretty girl’s good looks; It only enhanced hers. She had a bleeding heart for the underdog, a loyalty that would prove to me at times stronger than a blood sister. At first impression, one might mistake her character as cold, odd, distant, and self-consumed, but once she became comfortable in anyone’s presence she proved herself to be anything but.

Crystal didn’t have the sheltered upbringing Olive and I took for granted. No one had ever unconditionally loved her. As I type that it yanks at my heart terribly. I had never met her mother. I knew her father quite well (or so I thought). Crystal’s parents divorced when she was quite young. She lived with her mother until she was 12. On a long distance trip to visit her father one summer, her mother abandoned her at a 7-11 in another state. Her mother called her dad to pick her up as she apparently could no longer handle her rebellious pre-teen. I can’t even fathom the feeling. Being a young girl already suffering from emotional trauma from being molested at 2 years old. To unknowingly, grab a Slurpee for the road to return to the parking lot abandoned and alone. I never asked her how that made her feel. I wish I had. Crystal made no bones about the fact that she despised her mom. I could tell she really loved her and probably wanted nothing more than for her evil mother to emerge from her narcissistic coma to show her daughter some sort of love or loyalty; that never happened. Her father, did not know what to do with this unruly pre-teen, I can only gather, because he never knew how to handle her in to adulthood. Richard was one of those strict Mormons – he didn’t even consume alcohol or caffeine. He never connected with her emotionally. He only would throw money at her to keep her quiet – if only for a few minutes..

Crystal was a stoner, free-spirit who believed in the spirit world, but did not believe in religion. Crystal was out early looking for love in all the wrong places. Anything to fill the void of abandonment and the utter indifference she received from both parents. At 15 she took up with a hardcore cholo type who abused her and drugs. Her father didn’t seem to care that his little girl was infiltrating into a very dangerous, potentially life altering scene. He would even drop her off with this adult man to spend weekends with his only daughter. Once she reached the porch of his house and as his car reached 30mph would he yell out of the car “don’t get pregnant”. Obviously, that form of birth control did not work. Angelica was born November 17, 1999 to a beautiful, emotionally abandoned, lost, teen mother. Crystal would convey how at the moment of Angelica entered the world there was this radiant light that entered the birthing room.

I didn’t meet Angelica until she was almost 2. Anyone who met this child said her name was very fitting as she was really an angel baby. She was the spitting image of Crystal, just half a shade darker. Angelica was an old soul, who was brilliant and unconditionally sweet. She sparkled like a fire cracker; wise beyond her years. It’s funny even though she was technically a baby/toddler when I met her, I always saw the old soul behind her eyes through her all-knowing stare. I met Richard, Crystal’s dad the same day I met Angelica. They all lived together in a luxury apartment in the nicer part of Burbank. Richard was there for Angelica 110%. A lot of people would mistake her for Angelica’s dad because he took such impeccable care of her.

Crystal feeling more and more emotionally lost and therefore battling constantly with addiction and bad men could not be a fulltime mother to Angelica. No doubt she loved that girl the best way she knew how. How can a mother be a mother to a little girl when she is a little girl herself who was never been loved or shown how to be a mother by her own mother? I was taken aback at Crystal’s weird, dysfunctional relationship with her father Richard. They never communicated. Sure, they would talk, she’d shout demands “I need a new car”, I need new boobs” I need $100, the dope man is here”. His response was always “OK Crystal.” I never would’ve guessed he would do what he did to his daughter and beloved granddaughter, but on further reflection, this situation was a ticking time bomb waiting for someone to explode. Oh, how I wish he had exploded on a tree or just himself, not on my Crystal and Angelica.

Crystal and I really did have a lot in common. She was painfully shy, and awkward in social situations as was I. Most people assumed that we were stuck up snobs but, we would talk about how often we were misjudged by others for being stuck up, cold and distant, when really, deep down, we were just deathly afraid of interacting with people. I’m sure that’s what attracted her to Olive in the first place. Olive and Crystal met at beauty school when they were 17. Olive’s character is the antithesis socially awkward. Olive has always been outgoing, direct, a “friend to all” type of gal who is not afraid to walk into any room with confidence and poise and by nights end have every man in love with her and every girl wanting to be her best friend. Even though Olive is a striking blonde with model looks, legs for miles and a thousand watt smile, females are never “jealous” of her. She has a way of making anyone feel good about themselves. One simple complement to an insecure chick and they are putty in her hands. By nights end they are making appointments to get their nails done together or bring flowers to a recently departed grandmother’s grave. Crystal and I were the polar opposite. We’d enter a social gathering and take refuge in a corner chair and just observe the party like we were watching a movie on a flat screen.

Olive was our common thread for a few years.Crystal and I only hung out in Olive’s presence until that Summer; the Summer where my journey began into the depths of drug addiction and emotional suicide. Once Olive was taken out of the equation, Crystal and I fed into each other’s predispositions and insecurities with love, loyalty, music and drugs. Drugs were not our only bond, but it certainly was a factor.

Oh, how I loved that girl. I can hear her giggle now.. I’m picturing her now, legs crossed, swinging forward, weed pipe in her left hand and giggling so adorably and infectiously. I can’t get her out of my mind. I guess, I never want to. It was very hard to write about her. Even though she’s been gone for 4 years, I’ve never actively thought of her for this long. I didn’t want to ache this way. I just wish we had been on good terms when she left us. It was such a stupid little fight. She never understood the unconditional loyalty I shared with my sister. Crystal, you were always there for me… I’m so sorry I couldn’t communicate to you how much I valued your love and undying loyalty. I know we are OK in the long run. You know I will always love you. Oh Crystal, you sweet, tragic soul. Why did you grace us with your spirit for such a remarkably short time?

Apr12

How Did I Get Here?

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As hard as it is sometimes to relive the past my bff (I call her “Olive” on here) convinced me to start writing my book already. I am going to try to write a few pages a day and post some excerpts.

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My boss let me off early that day. After all it was a Friday. I worked on the 20th floor of the Wells Fargo building in the small corporate section in Las Vegas. I was working for a pretty prominent hotel development company that had recently opened a branch in Vegas. I was hired to assist the two VP’s as they got this office up and running. Before my boss could say “have a nice weekend” I had already punched the elevator button for the ground floor. I waited at the curb briefly for my mom to pick me up, then remembered, I had driven myself to work that day in the car my stepdad had just bought for me.

It was May. So much had changed since I took that one way trip from Los Angeles to Vegas on January 1, 2007. I hardly remember getting on the plane. I guess being up for 3 days mixed with pain killers, heroin and muscle relaxants might affect ones memory. My mom had begged me for months to just get on the plane and move in with her and her new husband. I was trying to make it on my own in my heroin chic meth addled state. I must have been high to think I could make it in LA of all places in my condition. I have always been a girl who fancied the finer things in life. When I was little my mother often remarked that the stork should’ve dropped me off in Beverly Hills, not West Covina, Ca. Even at my most broken, I would always manage to take up residence in some rich person’s crack den … Therefore in only took one night of literally sleeping on the streets of LA before I finally took her up on her offer.

As I passed the Las Vegas strip on the way to the fwy for home, I thought about Olive*; my best friend since 2nd grade. I hadn’t talked to her since New Year’s Eve. We grew up sheltered little Burbank girls and when I ventured away from her into the depths of hard drugs and living dangerously during the summer of 2004 she was destroyed. . She wanted no part of what I was getting into. She practiced tough love on me. I had been so resentful at the time but later knew how deep down she was terrified of losing me and couldn’t even handle speaking to me on the phone. After not speaking for a couple years she broke down, found my number on MySpace and called me. When she called, I was so happy to hear her voice; the mere sound of it reminded me of our carefree days chasing down boys in my Toyota Celica. It reminded me of home. She reminded me of me, and although I had just been thrown out of the last crack motel with a vacancy on New Year’s eve I was jolted, if only for a moment into sobriety in the depths of anything but. “Fuck it Fred (she’s always called me Fred), I don’t care what state you’re in I need to see you.” I really wanted to see her, but I just couldn’t. I didn’t even tell her I was roaming the streets of Hollywood with no place to go falling in and out of a dream state as I walked a crooked line. Before I knew it it was pitch black outside. Everyone was so merry and giddy. Girls my age dressed to kill, arm in arm with their lovers or bff’s .. I was alone. I didn’t even have a jacket. The Asian lady wouldn’t let me get my luggage from the room because I still owed a nights rent. I went to a semi familiar place. A girlfriend of mine that I met through the drug world had an apartment close to where I was. I knew she was out of town. I broke into the building and into her community laundry room, at least it was warm in there. I could get some sleep before calling my mom the next morning to get me that plane ticket. When I wore out my welcome in the laundry room, I moved to the basement of the building. I sat on lawn chair and cried. From that chair I saw a glorious party happening with twinkly lights and decorated pools. I heard joy and music, drunken laughter. I had no idea of the time, until I heard the count down. “10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1 Happy New Year people jumping for joy” What have I done? It was the oddest thing to view my past life live, in action, right in front of me. Olive and I had been to parties just like that. I once was one of those oblivious, drunken girls jumping for joy at the prospect of a new year; new beginnings. Even though it was 10 feet away, it might as well have been 100 miles away. How did I get here? The evening got worse from there. I thought about another one of my drug buddies in West Hollywood. He was a flamer, through and through, but would usually let me crash if I had a hot dude with me. I was solo tonight, but thought I’d give it a try. I walked the 5 miles in open towed slippers and a wind breaker. I got to the steps of his apartment and fell asleep. I woke up and knocked on the door. A man I had never seen before opened to say the fairy was on an extended vacation somewhere. I could tell it was a lie. A cab driver seemed to take pity on me and asked if I needed a ride, I told him I was broke. He still offered the ride. I told him to take me back to Hollywood and Fulton. I should’ve known it was too good to be true. I don’t think he wanted me to sit in the front seat to take advantage of the heater; he wanted to take advantage of me. About a mile away from where he picked me up, I could tell, he wasn’t going to let me out without a favor in return. I started sobbing and sobbing, he patted my hair “It’s ok, there’s nothing to be afraid of” I wanted his disgusting fingers out of my hair. He started driving faster. Great, now I can’t jump out. He took a sharp left onto a side street. My angels must’ve been looking after me because a cop pulled him over. I had never been so happy to see a cop in my whole life.. Little did that cop know, he saved me from being raped. I went back to the basement where the New Year ’s Eve party was letting out. I shivered myself to sleep until sunrise. Called my mom to tell her I was coming home. I arrived with the clothes on my back, I never got my luggage from the Asian lady. I had not a dime in my pocket, I weighed 80 pounds.

Yes, a lot had changed. I was sober, happy, gainfully employed, I had a car. I was like a responsible person now. As I waited for the red light to turn green on the fwy I called Olive. Little did I know that perfect Friday in May would turn to the saddest day imaginable. Our mutual best friend had just been murdered. At least I had 20 more minutes to enjoy the drive home from work and pretend all was OK before she returned my call with the news. Yes, what a difference a few minutes makes.</