I spent the last two and a half years of my "official" adolescence as a ward of the state of California and in a large group home or "open placement". It was an "open placement" because it wasn't a lock-down down facility. The front doors were unlocked and we had rooms instead of cells. It wasn't really a home so much as place to house messed up and throwaway girls who weren't really criminal enough to require full-time residence in juvenile hall.
Some girls were there due to drug and prostitution charges. Some were there behind assault and battery or arson charges. Others were simply guilty of bad attitudes, a lack of interest in any thing an authority figure had to say and running away from crappy homes, using alcohol or drugs to anesthetize intense internal pain and rage. I pretty much fell into the latter group, having been deemed a "pre-juvenile delinquent" by the social worker who placed me there. This meant only that I hadn't been caught doing something that would require my presence before a judge. It meant that I was headed straight for juvenile hall and a life of crime, if someone or something did not intervene.
And so it was that I came to find myself at the tender age of 16 in an old renovated convalescent home with 50 or so girls who were far more knowledgeable about all things criminal than I had ever thought to be. I was more rebellious than criminal, more interested in not feeling than making money by selling drugs.
Being put into placement probably wasn't the best place for me at the time but there was no other place for me. My father was a pedophile as everyone had learned several months earlier and my mother was ill-equipped to cope with not only the situation in which she found herself but also with a wayward, angry, stubborn and do-it-my-way teenage girl who refused to listen, conform or do anything other than look for ways to escape whatever uncomfortable circumstances she found herself in, one way or another.
And while the circumstances that brought me to the group home were heartbreaking at best; and much of what I experienced while there could be characterized as cathartic in some way, what I learned from being among those girls wasn't exactly therapeutic. What DID happen to me there was I felt my first glimpse and experience with what unconditional love and acceptance were from the woman who was charged with dealing with me. I was allowed to to be who I was on any given day. I received the therapy I so desperately needed. I learned my freedoms and privileges hinged mostly on my behavior and attitudes and I got the very first inkling that I had a problem with booze and anything that altered my mind.
What follows is the story of how I found myself at my very first meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous.
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I was constantly going AWOL and coming back inebriated. The usual punishment for this was 50 demerits and 72 hours restriction. Restriction meant you couldn’t go on group activities or get phone calls or weekend passes. That kind of thing. Well, on the fourth time in a week, my caseworker finally reached the end of her patience and put me on restriction until further notice. She told me if I went AWOL one more time or had my friends come to my room window and hang out, she would not only move me to a inside room but also send me to Juvenile Hall. Shit, foiled again. At least I could see my friends at school.
A week or so later, I'm going bat shit with nothing to do. It is a Wednesday night. Almost everyone is on the go cart activity and the only other girls in the place are ones I hate. I am in my room blasting the Dead Kennedys, smoking a cigarette and wondering if I really should get a mohawk like my boyfriend. I hear an announcement over the PA. I turn down the boom box. "Alcoholics Anonymous meeting in the Blue Room in 5 minutes. If you attend, it will count as 5 points off of your demerit sheet.” I think.
Two minutes later, the PA booms again: "A Meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous will commence in the Blue Room in 3 minutes. If you attend it will count as 5 points off of your demerit sheet." I turn off the boom box and think to myself "What the hell," and go down the hall to the Blue Room. I am doomed. A whole HOUR with these weirdoes? I am certain I will die of boredom. They ask me my name, I tell them. I want to leave but if I do, I won't get the five point credit. Shit.
A week or so later, I'm going bat shit with nothing to do. It is a Wednesday night. Almost everyone is on the go cart activity and the only other girls in the place are ones I hate. I am in my room blasting the Dead Kennedys, smoking a cigarette and wondering if I really should get a mohawk like my boyfriend. I hear an announcement over the PA. I turn down the boom box. "Alcoholics Anonymous meeting in the Blue Room in 5 minutes. If you attend, it will count as 5 points off of your demerit sheet.” I think.
Two minutes later, the PA booms again: "A Meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous will commence in the Blue Room in 3 minutes. If you attend it will count as 5 points off of your demerit sheet." I turn off the boom box and think to myself "What the hell," and go down the hall to the Blue Room. I am doomed. A whole HOUR with these weirdoes? I am certain I will die of boredom. They ask me my name, I tell them. I want to leave but if I do, I won't get the five point credit. Shit.
One of the women starts reading. Then the man reads some kind of Steps or something that are talking about God. It's making my butt itch. Then the lady who read, asks if there any newcomers in the room. She looks at me. I look back at her defiantly blank. Then the other lady starts talking. She talks forever. Damn, I forgot my watch and Stephanie broke the clock in here when she went off in here the other day. What time is it anyway? Will this lady ever shut up? She suddenly becomes very weepy about something and is thanking God. I secretly roll my eyes become engrossed in the status of my chewed up combat boots.
Suddenly, there is silence. I look up and they are all looking at me. Uh-oh. Shit. I tell them I did not hear the last question. The lady who was talking asks me if I want to share anything. I say no but ask what time the meeting will be over. At 9:00 PM, I'm told. Yeah.. like I know when 9:00 PM is, I don't even have a watch. Shit. Then the man starts talking. I am so bored, I halfway listen. I light up a smoke.
He talks about Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, Led Zeppelin, sex, booze and drugs. This is kind of interesting. I look more carefully at him. He looks like he used to be a biker. I look closely at his eyes. He looks stoned. He starts talking about being with the bike club and jails and that he saw some people die from overdose. He say one died in his arms and the other he woke up next to. Ewwww. Gross. Then he lights up a cigarette and draws heavily on it. I hand him the coke can I am using for ashes and butts. When he starts talking again, he starts talking about God again and miracles and sunlight and daisies. What is it with these AA people? Just when the story is sort of interesting, they ruin it with God stuff. God sucks. I study my fingernails and wish I had a hit of speed. Why do they talk about this stuff? Is it a test? Now, I want to get loaded. I thought these meetings were supposed to stop you from wanting to do that. Biker-Dude drones on.
When he stops, everyone talks among themselves and turn to ask me if I want to take a newcomer chip and join their "Fellowship". Uh... no thanks. Then everyone stands up, so I stand up too. Biker- Dude is really tall. They ask everyone to join hands. Shit, I have to touch them, too. They bow their heads and one of the ladies starts reciting this prayer about serenity and power and change. Do they ever shut up about God? I look at both ladies and try to picture them as drunken punk rockers in a mosh pit.
Biker-Dude and Crying Lady start picking up stuff and talking. The other Lady asks me what I thought. I shrug. She asks me if I am an alcoholic. No, I tell her, I am only interested in what they do at these meetings. I do not let on I only came because I was on restriction, bored and bribed. I am so crafty. She buys my story. She hands me a card with a name and a phone number scribbled on it. She tells me she was glad I came and that if I ever wanted to talk or go to a meeting, to give her a call. Does she mean meetings, like out of the building? She tells me that's what she means. I pocket the card and tell her to have a nice night. I leave. I do not say goodbye to Biker-Dude or Crying Lady.
A few days later, I have to get out of the building. I pull out the card. The name scribbled on it is Rose. I ask to use the telephone. Front desk staff say I have to ask my caseworker. I go down the hall, through the cafeteria and knock on her door. It takes her forever to answer. I go in and stand in front of her desk. I tell her I want to call my AA sponsor and go to a meeting that night. N looks at me very skeptically and repeats what I said. I tell her it's true and hand her the card. She looks at it and dials the number.
I throw myself on the couch across from her desk, in disgust. I can't believe she doesn't believe me. I am getting pissed. She asks Rose if she knows me from the AA meeting. She asks how long Rose has been sober. She asks Rose if she can come in and meet with her before the meeting. N says Rose will be there at 5:00 PM and if everything is okay, I can go to the meeting with her tonight. But I will not be off restriction and I will not get credit for going. Shit.
At 5:00 PM, I am going down the hall to the cafeteria for dinner. I am in my best pair of ripped up, safety-pinned and graffitied jeans, a giant ugly, gray men's dress shirt, and holey, safety-pinned Keds. I like my new haircut. My friends and I cut the last class because I couldn't go out after school. So we all went to the drive up camera place where my boyfriend worked hung out and cut my hair. It was short and spiky with long bangs and a very long rat-tail. I bleached it out to platinum, when I got back to the building.
As I round the corner of the cafeteria, I see Rose go into N's office. I eat dinner and go back to my room. My roommates are in there with their friends listening to Journey and doing their hair for activity that night. Shit . I try to listen to Adam and The Ants with my headphones on but it doesn't work. It is Friday and Disco night. Journey is too loud and they are all excited about going to the disco and meeting "cute guys". Yeah right. Guys with long hair in Angels Flight polyester pants, hawaiian shirts and jellybean shoes. I'd rather be boiled alive. They ask me if I can go. I tell them no and I wouldn't even if I could because disco sucks. They say that they don't want a freak with them anyway. I tell them to fuck off and go out to the front desk. N calls me into the front office and tells me I can go to the meeting. At least I'm getting out of the building.
So, off Rose and I go to this outside AA meeting. It is in this big church. We walk in and it's like a commune of really old hugging groupies while I stand around looking like an idiot. Rose introduces me and I say Hi, praying nobody hugs me. Rose tells me to make myself comfortable while she gets some coffee. Do I want a cup of coffee? No, I say, I hate coffee. No problem, Rose says.
Two weeks later, it is my boyfriend's birthday and he is throwing a party. He is turning 21. I am off restriction and have behaved well enough to earn a pass. I say to myself I am not going to drink. But I do. I get very drunk and run off down the street with a bottle of wine and screaming. I am very loaded. My friend's pour me into my boyfriend's rickety Studebaker and drive to the group home as few blocks away. I am not only way late coming off pass; I am way loaded too. They will get in trouble too and they know we will not get to see each other. They drag me to the front door, because I cannot walk, throw open the door real fast and push me in. They race back to the car and drive off before they are recognized.
The Night staff has come around the corner. They shake their heads and launch into a lecture. I tell them to yell at me in the morning when I will remember it. I am not feeling very well at all. I am searched for contraband. I am going to be quite ill, I say. I go to the bathroom, and throw up. I am too drunk to stand so I sit down in front of the commode and flush. I am sweating like a pig. Mascara and eyeliner are burning my eyes. I rest my head on the porcelain. It feels nice and cool but I throw up again anyway.
Someone has called Rose and suddenly she is standing in the door of the bathroom. She looks at me for a long time, and then she says, "I want you to know that you never have to feel this way ever again if you don't want to." I heave again and look at her out of one eye, sweaty and nauseous, breath heaving and say: "Fuck you. I LIKE feeling this way."
He talks about Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, Led Zeppelin, sex, booze and drugs. This is kind of interesting. I look more carefully at him. He looks like he used to be a biker. I look closely at his eyes. He looks stoned. He starts talking about being with the bike club and jails and that he saw some people die from overdose. He say one died in his arms and the other he woke up next to. Ewwww. Gross. Then he lights up a cigarette and draws heavily on it. I hand him the coke can I am using for ashes and butts. When he starts talking again, he starts talking about God again and miracles and sunlight and daisies. What is it with these AA people? Just when the story is sort of interesting, they ruin it with God stuff. God sucks. I study my fingernails and wish I had a hit of speed. Why do they talk about this stuff? Is it a test? Now, I want to get loaded. I thought these meetings were supposed to stop you from wanting to do that. Biker-Dude drones on.
When he stops, everyone talks among themselves and turn to ask me if I want to take a newcomer chip and join their "Fellowship". Uh... no thanks. Then everyone stands up, so I stand up too. Biker- Dude is really tall. They ask everyone to join hands. Shit, I have to touch them, too. They bow their heads and one of the ladies starts reciting this prayer about serenity and power and change. Do they ever shut up about God? I look at both ladies and try to picture them as drunken punk rockers in a mosh pit.
Biker-Dude and Crying Lady start picking up stuff and talking. The other Lady asks me what I thought. I shrug. She asks me if I am an alcoholic. No, I tell her, I am only interested in what they do at these meetings. I do not let on I only came because I was on restriction, bored and bribed. I am so crafty. She buys my story. She hands me a card with a name and a phone number scribbled on it. She tells me she was glad I came and that if I ever wanted to talk or go to a meeting, to give her a call. Does she mean meetings, like out of the building? She tells me that's what she means. I pocket the card and tell her to have a nice night. I leave. I do not say goodbye to Biker-Dude or Crying Lady.
A few days later, I have to get out of the building. I pull out the card. The name scribbled on it is Rose. I ask to use the telephone. Front desk staff say I have to ask my caseworker. I go down the hall, through the cafeteria and knock on her door. It takes her forever to answer. I go in and stand in front of her desk. I tell her I want to call my AA sponsor and go to a meeting that night. N looks at me very skeptically and repeats what I said. I tell her it's true and hand her the card. She looks at it and dials the number.
I throw myself on the couch across from her desk, in disgust. I can't believe she doesn't believe me. I am getting pissed. She asks Rose if she knows me from the AA meeting. She asks how long Rose has been sober. She asks Rose if she can come in and meet with her before the meeting. N says Rose will be there at 5:00 PM and if everything is okay, I can go to the meeting with her tonight. But I will not be off restriction and I will not get credit for going. Shit.
At 5:00 PM, I am going down the hall to the cafeteria for dinner. I am in my best pair of ripped up, safety-pinned and graffitied jeans, a giant ugly, gray men's dress shirt, and holey, safety-pinned Keds. I like my new haircut. My friends and I cut the last class because I couldn't go out after school. So we all went to the drive up camera place where my boyfriend worked hung out and cut my hair. It was short and spiky with long bangs and a very long rat-tail. I bleached it out to platinum, when I got back to the building.
As I round the corner of the cafeteria, I see Rose go into N's office. I eat dinner and go back to my room. My roommates are in there with their friends listening to Journey and doing their hair for activity that night. Shit . I try to listen to Adam and The Ants with my headphones on but it doesn't work. It is Friday and Disco night. Journey is too loud and they are all excited about going to the disco and meeting "cute guys". Yeah right. Guys with long hair in Angels Flight polyester pants, hawaiian shirts and jellybean shoes. I'd rather be boiled alive. They ask me if I can go. I tell them no and I wouldn't even if I could because disco sucks. They say that they don't want a freak with them anyway. I tell them to fuck off and go out to the front desk. N calls me into the front office and tells me I can go to the meeting. At least I'm getting out of the building.
So, off Rose and I go to this outside AA meeting. It is in this big church. We walk in and it's like a commune of really old hugging groupies while I stand around looking like an idiot. Rose introduces me and I say Hi, praying nobody hugs me. Rose tells me to make myself comfortable while she gets some coffee. Do I want a cup of coffee? No, I say, I hate coffee. No problem, Rose says.
I look around. There are a lot of people at this meeting. The noise is incredible. There is no one my age there. Everybody there looks like 40 year old burnouts. I pull out a cigarette, find an empty chair and thrown myself down on it, dramatically. A familiar voice tells me I have to go outside to smoke. It is Biker-Dude.
Suddenly, I realize what a horrid mistake I made. All I want to do now, leave, as quickly as possible. He asks me how I am and that he likes the new haircut. I say Sure. He says he is glad to see me there and hopes I will enjoy it. Then someone is pounding on the podium asking everyone to take his or her seats. More noise. More pounding. Sounds of chairs being sat in. Then it is quiet.
The dude at the podium asks everyone to be quiet for a minute for the alcoholic who still suffers. Then he asks someone to read something. Again with the reading and the God stuff. It goes on a long time. This time I wore my watch. I look at it. Only 15 minutes! This is going be a long one. A lady starts speaking when the reading is done. She starts crying on the second sentence and I cannot understand anything she says from then on. I try not to fall asleep. Thank god, I can go out to smoke. Biker-Dude is out there smoking too. He asks what I think. I tell him I'm sure it's fine if you are old and burned out. He laughs and says he knows he old and burned out and that there other meetings for people my age that Rose would be happy to take me to. I look inside. The speaker is still blubbering all over the podium.
Biker-Dude says he has a kid my age who is sober a year. Maybe I would like to meet her. Now I know I am in hell. I am certain God is punishing me. I light another cigarette and stand in the front door. The speaker has finished her crying jag and someone is standing up there reading. Then everyone stands up and Biker-Dude hurries over the back aisle and grabs a couple of hands. They say the same little prayer and then everyone starts milling around. I find Rose and ask if we can go. She says we have to help clean up the wreckage of our presence. Shit. This meeting will NEVER be over.
Two weeks later, it is my boyfriend's birthday and he is throwing a party. He is turning 21. I am off restriction and have behaved well enough to earn a pass. I say to myself I am not going to drink. But I do. I get very drunk and run off down the street with a bottle of wine and screaming. I am very loaded. My friend's pour me into my boyfriend's rickety Studebaker and drive to the group home as few blocks away. I am not only way late coming off pass; I am way loaded too. They will get in trouble too and they know we will not get to see each other. They drag me to the front door, because I cannot walk, throw open the door real fast and push me in. They race back to the car and drive off before they are recognized.
The Night staff has come around the corner. They shake their heads and launch into a lecture. I tell them to yell at me in the morning when I will remember it. I am not feeling very well at all. I am searched for contraband. I am going to be quite ill, I say. I go to the bathroom, and throw up. I am too drunk to stand so I sit down in front of the commode and flush. I am sweating like a pig. Mascara and eyeliner are burning my eyes. I rest my head on the porcelain. It feels nice and cool but I throw up again anyway.
Someone has called Rose and suddenly she is standing in the door of the bathroom. She looks at me for a long time, and then she says, "I want you to know that you never have to feel this way ever again if you don't want to." I heave again and look at her out of one eye, sweaty and nauseous, breath heaving and say: "Fuck you. I LIKE feeling this way."
2 in the crosshairs:
Damn, just what I needed. I good cry first thing in the morning...
Very very powerful post, Kris. I was absolutely riveted.
I'm so so sorry that your parents failed you. My heart is just aching.
Geez, Attie- I didn't want to make you (or anyone)cry. =( Honestly, It all turned out ok.
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