Lucy in the Sky (24 page)

I think my mouth must have been hanging open, because she came up and talked to me afterward. She gave me her phone number and her e-mail address. I told her that I didn't have a phone right now because I was at the rehab.

She smiled and said that she went to that rehab too. She said she'd see if Randy would let her come visit me.

For some reason when she said that, I started crying.

Then this girl named Amy who I don't even know hugged me. She whispered into my ear, Let us love you until you learn to love yourself.

I hope she comes to visit.

April 10

I'm so excited! Amy actually came to visit me today. She said that Randy was glad she wanted to come and talk with me. During our free period, we lay out by the pool. She's one year older than me and is graduating from high school next month. Then she told me that she was going to the college where my dad works this fall to study to be a music teacher. When I told her my dad runs the music department at that college, she was like NO WAY. She'll have my dad for a class next fall!

Amy said I should watch out for little coincidences like this. She said some people in AA call them “God shots.” When I laughed, she said, Yeah. That's kind of silly. I just like to think of it as all things working together for good.

Before she left, I asked Amy to be my sponsor in AA. I don't really know what all that means, but I know that you're supposed to have somebody to show you how to work the steps and to check in with if you feel like drinking or doing drugs. I'm not even really sure that I'm an addict yet, but I feel like most teenage girls probably don't get DUIs and then overdose on heroin and end up in rehab.

I know that in a couple of weeks we have “Family Day” coming up, where Cam and Mom and Dad will come down and I'll have to talk to them about all of this. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say. When I think about it, I get that nervous
feeling in my stomach. I feel so guilty and so ashamed that I've put everyone through this.

The first step in AA says, “We admitted we were powerless over alcohol—that our lives had become unmanageable.” Amy said that I could substitute any drug I wanted for the word alcohol if that made it easier to understand. She also said that overdosing and getting a DUI and being high on crystal at school sounded pretty unmanageable to her.

And you know what we did when she said that?

We laughed! 'Cause it was like the UNDERSTATEMENT OF THE YEAR!

It felt really good to laugh with Amy, especially about something that has been so bad. Maybe all of this will work itself out after all.

April 18

I have been working on my AA steps so much that I haven't had much chance to journal! Doing the steps involves a lot of writing about a lot of different stuff, mainly about the people you resent, and what your part is in those resentments. Eventually I'll have to make a list of people I've hurt by drinking and using drugs so that I can make amends to them, but that's later, and Amy says not to worry about that yet.

Anyway, here's what's been going on:

1. I've been talking to my parents and to Amy on the phone every day.

2. Things are rocky with Mom and Dad. Mom still cries every time she talks to me. Dad is really quiet, like he doesn't know if he can still trust me. They're getting ready for Cam's big graduation party, even though it isn't until next month.

3. I've been allowed to check my e-mail a couple of times. Ross sent one e-mail that said he was sorry about everything that happened. Lauren sent an e-mail saying she was sorry that my parents shipped me to Palm Springs. She said that school is lame without me. I wrote both of them back and told them all about my rehab and Amy and how I felt really good about the changes I was making. I told them that I hope they check out some other AA meetings back in LA. I said that it made a big difference when I heard someone who was our age talk about addiction.

4. I'm working on Step 2 right now with Amy: “Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.” Amy told me that Albert Einstein once said that “insanity” is “doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” I realized that's exactly what I'd done: continued to drink and do drugs and hang out with the people who did those things with me, even after I started getting into trouble.

 

I want to do things DIFFERENTLY now.

I finally feel like I have so much to look forward to. One of
the guys in our group therapy told me that now I'm on a “pink cloud.” It's this term in recovery that means I'm really happy and I think everything is going to be just perfect now.

I don't think everything is going to be perfect now.

But I sure do feel better.

April 27

Mom and Dad and Cam were here for family night tonight. It was hard to face them, but the looks on their faces when I asked their forgiveness for the way I treated them for the past year—for the lies, and the craziness—well, that made everything worth it.

Tomorrow I get to go home with them. I'll have been here for 28 days. It will be sad not seeing Amy as often, but she'll be moving to college this fall, and she's promised that we'll talk every day on the phone as long as I check in with her the way you're supposed to when you have a sponsor. We're getting ready to start on Step 4, which is a big list of all the people and places and ideas that I've ever resented in my life. The step says to make “a fearless moral inventory.” It's actually really scary, but Amy said not to be scared of it, just to do it. There are really specific instructions about how to write it out in the Alcoholics Anonymous Big Book. She sat down with me by the pool the other day and made a little chart in my notebook with 4 columns so that I have a guide of how to do it.

I can't wait to get back home and share what I've learned with Lauren and Ross. I e-mailed both of them this week about going to meetings together when I get back home. I haven't had a chance to check my e-mails yet, but I'm excited that I can share what I've learned in my time here with them.

When I got here, I wasn't sure that I'd ever feel hopeful again. I felt like all of the good times of my life were over—behind me. I didn't want to even think about the idea of NEVER being able to party again.

Now I feel like I have everything to look forward to if I just don't drink or use a drug TODAY. If I can just remember that I only have to worry about TODAY, nothing seems so terrible or overwhelming.

April 28

I'M BACK HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOME!

You know, I never realized how BEAUTIFUL our house is, or how BIG my bedroom is. After living in an old motel in the desert for a month, I walked in and our place looks like a PALACE. I stood on the back balcony for a while and stared out at the ocean. Mom came up and stood behind me and wrapped her arms around me. Then she whispered into my ear how proud of me she was.

She said, You're a different girl now. I can see it in your eyes.

I got goose bumps when she said it. I felt tears come into my eyes, and I squeezed her fingers in mine, and I said, Yes, Mom. I AM different.

Later …

Dad just gave me back my cell phone! He said he and Mom discussed it and they can't believe the difference in me. I gave him a big hug and kissed him on the cheek.

I am going to yoga with Cam tonight for the first time in over a MONTH! I am so excited. I have to go grab my mat and get changed. Cam hates to be late.

Later …

Ross was at yoga! It was so good to see him!

When I walked into the room, he came running over and gave me a hug. We talked about what rehab was like for a little bit after class. I asked him how Lauren was, and he said she was okay, that they really missed me at school.

I told him Mom had sent my books to me and I had been doing as much schoolwork as I could at rehab but that I was still way behind, and I'd need his help to get caught up. He smiled his crooked little smile and said, I'm glad you're okay.

I hugged him tight and said, I'm more than okay. I'm better than ever. See you Monday.

Teen Found Dead of Accidental Overdose, Coroner Rules

May 5th, ____________—The 16-year-old girl whose body was recovered from a _________ beach house by police late Friday evening died of an accidental overdose the _______________ County sheriff-coroner has declared.

The man whose father owned the house, Blake ___________, 20, and his friend Ian ___________, 21, were both retained for questioning in the matter. Two teenage friends of the victim, a boy and girl who were present at the scene but whose names have not been released, were also taken into juvenile custody.

Toxicology reports indicate that the young woman, the daughter of a local college professor and his wife, had taken lethal intravenous doses of crystal meth-amphetamine and heroin. Two journals found in the young woman's bedroom have been turned over to detectives by her parents.

A spokesman for the district attorney's office would not speculate on whether or not criminal charges would be filed in the case, but a full investigation is under way.

 

My skin looks disgusting. Seriously, it's practically green. I have big gray bags under my eyes, my hair is all thin and frizzy, and I'm erupting all over the place with giant greasy zits. I look like a cross between a zombie, a hair ball, and a pepperoni pizza. Have I always looked like this? Was I just too high to notice?

Did I pack my AP Chemistry book? I can't remember if I packed it. I am not ready for this. I am so not ready.

This place is a body. The walls are its bones or its skin, or both—an exoskeleton, like a crab has. A crab's shell is meant to keep it safe, to protect it from the world; it is made to keep things out. But this shell is meant to keep us in, to protect the world from us. We are cancerous cells. Quarantined. An epidemic. We are rogue mutations that cannot make contact with the outside world. We're left in here to bump around like science experiments. They watch us pee into cups. They study our movements. One doctor says, “Look, that one's slowing down. There may be hope.” Another says, “No. They're all doomed. Let's just watch them burn themselves out.”

Everyone's looking at me weird. They probably just had a secret meeting where they voted on how lame they think I am, and the verdict was “very lame.” Add that to the fact that they can all most likely read my mind, and basically I'm doomed.

Fuck you fuck you fuck you FUCK YOU.

And the halls are like tongues, fingers, toes, like so many appendages. Dislocated. And these rooms are the lungs—identical, swollen, polluted. This one is the stomach, churning its contents into something unrecognizable.

That's it. They all got together and compared notes and have unanimously decided to look at me weird.

If I don't get a cigarette soon, I'm going to fucking kill somebody. We can smoke in here, right? They said we could smoke in here.

They took everything, including my astringent. Now how the hell am I supposed to clean my face? Do they really think I'm going to
drink
astringent?

All these rooms—body parts with mysterious names and functions.

When was the last time they cleaned this place?

Fuck this place.