May 26th, 2008

me with graffiti

CHAPTER 7- WHERE I START TO GO CRAZY

My friend Molly's parents liked me, but were a bit weary of me. Molly was from Topsfeild and her mother was a nurse and her father was a doctor. Molly was the most stable, good person i knew at my school. She moved to Reading in the 7th grade because her parents heard that the Reading school system was better than Topsfeild. They wanted the very best for Molly, their blood born daughter, as well as for her 2 adopted younger brothers.
I loved Molly. She seemed so perfect to me. She was beautiful and good at EVERYTHING and yet managed to succeed and stay positive with her self esteem.
In 8th grade, Molly and i became closer friends. She loved me despite my flaws. She saw the hero in me and tried to resque me, but everything was going downhill for me other than that.
I had a small group of friends who were allowed to hang out with me... KT, Derek and Mike. Katie and Mike had orange hair and Derek and i were blonde. Derek's older sister bought alcohol for us and we often drank at school or at dances where we were able to be away from our parents. KT and i were alcoholics and we bragged about it. Molly said that was nothing to brag about, but she took care of me anyway. Amy as at the high school now, because as i mentioned, she was a year older than me. She didn't like to drink anymore and so i did all my drinking and partying with KT, mike and derek.
The Metco girls at school were torturing me every day. One day i wore my mother's diamond ring she got in South Dakota to school. I had gym class that day and my gym teacher, Mrs. Copeland told me i could not wear any jewlery to gym class. I told her i could not take off the ring because if i lost it, my mother would kill me. She said i had to or else i'd fail gym and she would suspend me from school. I told her i had period cramps (which i actually did) and that i'd rather just sit out. Mrs. Copeland promised my ring would be safe in her office, that she would lock the door and it would be there when gym was up. I listened to her because she acted like she really cared about me, but when gym class was over, i went to retrieve my ring and it was gone. I got very upset. "HOW COULD YOU LOSE MY RING?
"It's not my fault" she told me. "someone must have broken into her office. She said it was probably one of the Metco girls out to get me. I had to go home and tell my mother i lost her diamond ring. I told her it was stolen out of Mrs Copeland's office, but my mother did not believe me.
"HOW COULD SOMEONE STEAL A RING FROM A TEACHERS LOCKED DOOR?"
"i dont know" i said honestly, but that answer was not good enough. I got grounded and again i hated my mother for punishing me when i was already being punished enough.
Not too long after that, this artsy girl i knew from school as well as church, who only had a couple friends, lost her mother to cancer. It was devistating to me to think about losing a mother like that. The guilt i felt, thinking what if i lost my mother too? My mom and i attended M.E's mom's funeral. I thought that lots of kids from school would have shown up too, although that was not why i went... but no one showed up Just her 2 friends and i, but we made a connection after that.

I was in therapy at school for being a wild kid and wildly depressed. All my friends saw that i was suffering and they made me meet with the guidence counceler with them during lunch sometimes. They were trying to help me. I had addiction problems and i was a whore and i stole and my new friends (the ones who were not allowed to see me outside of school) did everything they could t help me while in school. I was cutting myself on a fairly regular basis and they were all so afraid i would kill myself.

The school psychologyst thought i needed to see an outside therapist, and while my family protested and begged me to just talk to them, i was afraid of them because they were so afraid for me.
I started seeing this therapist in Reading, and because my mother does not know how to drive and my father was busy working all the time, my grandfather took me to and from my appointments with my therapist.
In February, my grandfather picked me up one day and he was in a panick. i did not know why, but i could tell something was wrong. He kept trying to tell me that he knew what was going on and wanted to help me.
"its my mother" i said. "she's evil"
"I know it seems like your mother is evil Kri, but she's caught in a cycle. We are all caught in a cycle"
i was not willing to hear about this cycle, because i was so sure that my mother was the cause of everything.
"SHE IS JUST SCARED" he yelled at me, and then he went quiet. My papa never yelled at me or lied to me, and i was scared seeing him like this. I noticed that he had a cigarette in his hand as he drove (as he always did) but this time, it sat in his hand and it burned to the end without him ever taking a drag, He was having PTSD symptoms, but at the time i knew nothing about PTSD. I did not know that my grandfather had been a POW MIA, and even if i had known, i would not have understood the trauma he was in.
FORGIVE YOUR MOTHER. he kept telling me.
FORGIVE YOUR MOTHER. THERE ARE PEOPLE AFTER ME. PLEASE FORGIVE HER he begged me, but i resented him for his sudden "misunderstanding" of me. i had thought he was on my side and now he wanted me to forgive my mother.... i went up to my room and blasted my music while he sat in the kitchen and drank coffee with my mom. I said goodbye to him before he was out the door and he said "you kicking me out?" "No, i said, i'm sorry, i thought you were leaving" "I am" he said "i was just teasing"
That night, i got a phone call from Missi. She said she was having all these boy problems with the guys on "the line" and that she was going to kill herself. I said "Please don't kill yourself" but she hung up on me and i tried calling her back but the phone was off the hook.

The next day, i showed up for school and started telling everyone "my cousin is dead, i just know it"
"i'm sure she's fine" they all told me, but i was not sure. I was sure she was dead. I panicked all day, and when algebra class began, i was spaced out the window and looking at the clock as usual. Suddenly a loudspeaker announcement came to my classrom. "Keri Edwards, would you please report to the office?"
"OOOOOH What'd you do now???" everyone jeered at me. I was called to the office for one reason or another almost every day, but this day i knew it was not a discipline report. I knew that my cousin had killed herself.
I walked slowly down to the office, in a lot of fear. There in the office were both of my parents. They both had tears in their eyes. She died, i knew it, and it was my fault for not getting her some help.
My father turned to me "Papa's gone" he said
PAPA?
"he had a heart attack. nana found him dead beside his tool bench"
PAPA?
My parents both hugged me.
"Come on, we're gonna take you home now"
ok, i said, "let me just get my things" i walked in dissociation to my locker. i was so confused that i accidently went to my 6th and 7th grade lockers before remembering i had an 8th grade locker in the basement.
i threw as much as i could into my bag and went back to the office.
"we're gonna drop you off at Auntie Martha's right now" they told me. If you need anything, she will help you.

I got dropped off at Aunti Martha's. (my dad's youngest sister) She let me look at her record collection and she played me some funny songs from the 80's. There was one song called "get preppy" which i enjoyed because preppy was a word we used at school to describe the kids who wore gap and limited clothing. i was a preppy/headbanger/wigga/druggy/whore depending on who i needed to be.

Auntie Martha let me look at her CD collection. She had just joined the BMG(?) music club, but i did not recognize a lot of her CD's.
She handed me Tom Petty's Full Moon Fever and said to listen to that because she thought i would like it, and so i did and i loved it. I was in a better enough mood to ask if i could go back to school after it was over, because the 8th grade was going to take a trip to Washington DC as they did every year (the ones who could afford to go) and My music teacher/mentor was the head chaperone of these yearly trips and i really just wanted to see her.
I went back to school at about 2:30 when the Washington meeting in the music room was about to start, and i sat quietly through the meeting even though a few girls called me fat during the meeting. "I can see your celulite" they told me. i was 5 foot 2 (as i am to this day) and weighed only 115 pounds, but people were always calling me fat and ugly. I did my best to ignore the insults so that i would be able to talk to my music teacher when the meeting was up. I told her how my grandfather had just died and i asked her why i couldn't cry. What was wrong with me? She told me i would cry at some point, but i was still in shock. She sat with me until about 4:30, but as it started to get dark, she said i should probably go back to my aunt's before my parents started to worry about me.
"They wont worry" i said
she sighed and said at least go back so that my aunt didn't worry. So i did.
Later that night we went by my grandparents house, and me and my sisters and my cousins mike and mandy all stayed up in my uncle lenny's old bedroom watching mtv and not talking about our dead grandfather. We all knew there was something fishy about the situation, but none of us were able to articulate it.
me with graffiti

CHAPTER 8- OVERDOSE

I had just learned, only a couple months before my papa's death, that he had been a fall down drunk, as had my father's mother. Papa got sober when i was 7 because my sister Nikki was about to be born, and my mother did not want his drunkeness around a brand new baby. I did not remember him ever being a drunk, but i guess he had been ever since he returned from war, but he got sober for my sister and was sober until the day he died.
Papa had tried to tell me something the day before he died, but i was too scared to hear his messege. He said that war was on and i could only end it with forgiveness. I was still young and selfish and did not understand the full scale of what he was saying to me.

I went on the trip to Washington DC and one of my roommates at the hotel we stayed at was this girl Andrea who people made fun of a lot. We made her sleep on the cot cuz there were 2 double beds and a cot in our hotel room and there wre 5 of us sharing the room. We were sort of the misfits left out of the room chosing process. This crazy girl Caitlin (who soon after that became one of my best friends), Meg M who i didn't know too well but was sort of friends with, and Becca-head, who graduated Valedvictorian of our class all shared a room.

Anyway, the Washington trip was fun although i thought about my Papa non stop, and my boyfriend Mike and i were broken up, and he had started dating the girl who's mother hated me for being a whore druggie (the softball mother whom i now forgive). Mike was still in love with me, but after "going out" 22 times, we thought we might make better friends.

When we got back from Washington, Mike and i got back together one last time, and we had been invited to a party at Andrea's house (the girl who slept on the cot). KT, Mike, Derek and i all went to the party together. Derek's sister got us a couple nips and i had stolen some cigaretts from my parents. This was not the kind of party that Andrea was having however... she was just a regular good kid, but attracted to my rebelious side.
As it turned out, Andrea's birthday party was in the basement of her parents house, and they trusted her enough not to go behind their basement bar. Well, Andrea may have been trustable, but my group and i were not. We took a pint of some hard liquor and drank it behind one of the couches when no one was looking.
The girl who's mother had just died was there as well. I tried to make her laugh as i got drunker and drunker, telling her stories of how you could get pregnant from jumping up and down while you had your period. As the night went on, the 4 of us drinkers were shitfaced and i took Mike behind the bar and demanded that he have sex with me. He kept saying no, but i unbuckled his belt and stared at his penis and laughed at him. i was not angry with him, i was angry at the world, but i could not understand why he didn't want to fuck me. EVERYONE wanted to fuck me... what the fuck was wrong with him that he didn't want me?
I told everyone at school that he was a wimp and a pussy and he had no balls. i spent the rest of the year humiliating him because i thought that all i was good for was sex, and he didnt want it.

Needless to say, we did not go out again. He spent as much time trying to hurt me and call me a whore and get me in trouble as i did humiliating him... and then one day i had enough. I was picked up early from school by my mom and my nana to go to a dentist appointment to have my braces tightened. My teeth were in severe pain and the dentist told me to take tylonol for the pain, but no more than a couple every few hours. I invited Amy over that day and she told me about the high school and the kinds of things i could expect when i got there. I had a bottle of Spearmind Shnaaps in my room which i drank as she told me stories and did my hair. he wished i would stop drinking and i said it was pointless... everything was pointless. When she left that night, i took a handfull of Tylonol... 23 to be exact... just like Brett was 23 years old and mike and i went out 23 times... 23 tylonol were my plan of death.

Fucked out of my mind, i called Molly that night. She knew i was more wasted than usual. "What did you take, Keri?" she asked
i laughed as i told her i drank a bottle of Shnapps, had 23 tylonol and a handful of diet pills. Her mother immidiately got on the phone and told m i had to tell my parents what i did.
"I can't tell my parents" i said "they wouldn't believe me anyway. they think i'm a liar"
"FINE" said Molly's mom, "Molly's dad and i are going to come over and tell them for you. You NEED to go to the hospital"
"no," i laughed, "it's okay, i want to die"
"well we dont want you to die. Molly doesnt want you to die" her mother said.
"fine" i said and dropped the phone on the floor.
Minutes later, the Eaton's showed up at my door and my parents did not want to let them in. They were smoking cigarettes and drinking beer (which is ok) but they felt threatened by Molly's perfect seeming family..
I was standing in the hall where no one could see me, listening to their conversation.
"Keri is sick and needs to go to the emergency room right now"
"oh yeah?" my dad said "what'd she tell you she did this time?"
"she overdosed on a lethal amount of tylonol and alcohol. you need to tak her to the ER now"
"no" said my parents "she is a lia. she is just trying to get attention"
"well, that may be true, but if she DID overdose, you only get one chance to save her"
"don't threaten us" yelled my dad "she's fine. Let us raise our kids and you go raise yours"
"WE'RE NOT LEAVING UNTIL YOU TAKE HER TO THE E.R." Dr. Eaton said
"oh yeah?" my dad threatened back. "get the fuck out of my house"
"Listen" Molly's dad said "If you don't take her to the ER right now, she might die"

i walked into the room and puked n the floor

"SEE?" Molly's mom said
"so she drank too much. she's in therapy, her grandfather just died. She's just looking for attention."
"No dad! I really did take all those pills, i don't feel good"
My father's rage started up "DON'T YOU FUCKIN LIE TO ME. YOU CANT GO CALLING YOUR FRIENDS PARENTS TO RESCUE YOU. THATS WHAT WE'RE HERE FOR"
"You don't care about me" i said
"Listen, Mr and Mrs Edwards, this is an emergency. If you don't take her to the hospital right this minute, she WILL die, so if you don't take her, we will and we will file a DSS report against you"
"FUCK YOU, FINE. Come on, lets go" my father said and yanked me by the arm.
He drove me to New England Memorial Hospital in Stoneham to the ER, my stomach was pumped with charcoal and tubes in my nose, and the doctor said that if we had waited much longer, i would have done irriversable damage to my liver.

The psychiatrist interviewed me after the whole ordeal to find out why i had done this. My father was sitting in the room with me looking pissed off. I was afraid to tell the truth, so i said that i took all the tylonol because my teeth hurt so bad from my braces being tightened. I think the psychiatrist knew i was lying, but my father did not want me going into any overnight psychiatric ward so he said he would lock up all the tylonol in the house in a safe and that they would take care of me and keep a better eye on me. He also agreed to send me to a therapy group at New England Memorial for teenagers with problems. I was in school the next day.
me with graffiti

CHAPTER 9- WHY DID YOU DO IT?

The night after my overdose, my parents took me out to Chilli's for dinner. My favorite food is Mexican and in 1992 Chilli's was the only Mexican chain my parents really knew about.
"Why would you do that? "they asked me
"My braces hurt" i lied
"Why do you have to lie about everything"
"i'm not lying" i lied again
"What is so wrong with your life? We give you everything"
"It's not ABOUT you" i said truthfully this time
"yes it is" my father said "you're trying to punish us"
"no i'm not. i told you, my teeth hurt"
"So you took 23 tylonol?" my mother said angrily
"YEAH"
"this is bullshit" said my dad "absolute bullshit"
"Why do you want to die? Did papa touch you?" my mom asked
"DID PAPA TOUCH ME??? How could you ever ask that right after he died. No he didn't touch me. You're sick"
"I'm sorry" said my mom "i just cant figure out why you would nearly kill yourself cuz i know its not about the braces"
"FINE" i said "you're right. Its not about the braces."
"SO YOU LIED TO US AGAIN?" my dad repeated
"No, i'm not lying, i just dont wanna talk about it"
"Oh yeah, you can talk about it to Miss K and Molly's parents and Miss Gushue, but you can't talk to us?" asked my mom
"THATS RIGHT" i said
"i cant believe you are doing this to us" said my dad
"i'm not doing anything TO YOU!"
"yes you are, you're trying to punish us"
"WHY WOULD I TRY TO PUNISH YOU"
"keep your voice down!"
"No"
"i can't do this" my mom said and walked outside to have a cigarette
"I can't even look at you" my father said
"FINE. DONT" i said
"you're upsetting your mother"
"i'm upsetting you both"
"So you ARE trying to hurt us"
"NO. FUCK. NO"
"Dont use that language with me"
"why? you use it with me"

the rest of dinner was silent. My dad payed the bill and we walked out to meet my stressed mother
"We're locking up the tylonol" my dad said as we got in the car
"Good. Go ahead. It's not like i cant get tylonol somewhere else"
"You want us to lock you up in a hospital?" my dad threatened
"yeah, i do." i said
"This is unbelievable. Un FUCKING believable"
me with graffiti

CHAPTER 10- THE BRAIN

Things between my parents and i got worse after that. Why would my mother accuse my grandfather of such a thing... her own father?
Years later i found out that my mother's grandfather molested her while she was growing up. She thought Papa did the same thing.

When i entered the high school i joined the drama club and played Alice in Go Ask Alice (not the lead, just the title character.) If you ever read the book Go Ask Alice by Anonymous, Alice is the homeless junky that the main character meets on the street and makes her rwalize that her life is going all downhill. I also co-directed the school's main play Scapino, and i had 3 poems published in the school literary magazine, which was a first for a freshman. I became friends with a group of older boys who respected me for who i was and all my talents. They were involved in the artistic side of extracrricular activities as well as being in the high school youth group at St Agnes, and invited me to join, knowing i had been in Jr. Youth Group.
This group of friends i had were special. We could talk in metaphore and know what we were really discussing. Our group became known as "the brain" because the theory was that we all shared a brain.
They introduced me to one of their friends, Aaron, at youth group who no longer attended Reading Memorial High School, but instead a private alternative school. His father was the head of the English department at RMHS and was known as being the best English teacher at the high school. He was also married to my 8th grade English teacher... the one with the legs, who was the STEP mother of my new friend.
I was dating a kid from Wilmington at the time that i met through a friend of a friend. Eric. He went to the Voke school and while he wasn't quite as smart as my "brain" friends, he was an amazingly kind and talented kid. But i fell in love with Aaron instantly, and by winter, i had broken up with Eric and was going out with Aaron instead. We saw eachother every day. We were best friends and soul mates. We both even had the same favorite album (Pink Floyd The Wall) and had both already written our own versions of the wall. We even both had the same favorite song off the album, VERA, which, if you are familiar with Pink Floyd The Wall, it is a short song and not usually listed as a favorite off the album by Floyd fans, but VERA was the same to Aaron and i... a lot friend, a lost soul. And we became like eachother's Vera's.

Like young kids in love do, we planned our future together. We were going to move to Vermont and live on a lake and have 2 children, hopefully a boy and a girl. We wanted to name our daughter Anonymous and call her Annie for short. We did not agree on a boys name.
Aaron and i were together for a year, but as our relationship progressed, i wanted him to want me sexually, and he said that he did, but that was why he couldnt. Again, this was hard for me to understand, and i again pressured another person i loved to be sexual. We did not have sex, but i pressured him a lot. i did something else i regret, kind of like what i did to Mike, but i had grown up a tiny bit more to the point where i did not torture and humiliate him for not having sex with me. Still, it triggered a lot of scary emotions in both of us. We decided we wanted to get married and although it was not legal, since we were in high school, we had what was called a "brain wedding". It was one of the funnest days of my life and i began to refer to Aaron as my "husband" after that.
A week after the brain wedding, i went to Christian Leadership Academy in Ipswitch Mass in a beautiful retreat house/mansion. It was amazing. It was like getting to go to camp, but a camp where i learned how to facilitate a group so that i could become one of the peer group leaders at my Youth Group.
St. Agnes sent 3 of us that year. My roommate was M.E., the girl who's mom died in 8th grade and who i told one could get pregnant by jumping up and down. She was a good roommate. The other girl was a good roomate as well, but M.E. was a friend of "the brain".
We were placed into small groups at the leadership retreat, and M.E. and Jen from St. Agnes were not in my group, as they tried to mix everybody up to make new friends.
My adult group leader was named Pat Sears, and he was the youth group leader at St. Agnes's sister youth group Generations Ahead, out of a church in Danvers.
Pat and i had a close but awkward relationship. He was a confused man, but a loving man. He was a great youth leader and he complimented me often on my leadership abilities, but said that i also needed to learn when not to lead (which was/is true sometimes)
Our group was called Cookie Dough and we all had nicknames like Perect Pat, Joviel Jennifer, Magnificant Missy and i was called Koliedascope Keri.
Towards the end of the week, Pat started telling us all about how he was taking his youth group (Generations Ahead) on a bus trip to see the Pope in Denver at World Youth Day in August. I wanted to go so badly, even though the prior year i thought my Social Studies teacher was "a pope"... so, yeah, i knew very little about who the Pope was, but a 2 week vacation with some cool Jesus people seemed like fun.
When i got back from CLI i told my parents how great it was and how my leader Pat was going to see the Pope and that there were a few spots left. I told them how exciting it would be to get to be that close to all that spirituality. I was lying a little. I mean, i LOVED the spirituality aspact of being with these other Catholics, but the real reason i wanted to go was because i was miserable. I had been drinking and using drugs again and aaron didn't want any part in that. I thought maybe going to Denver to World Youth Day would possibly help me to get clean again and maybe get a new start. I didn't really care about the pope.

After non stop begging and pleading, my parents agreed to pay for my seat on the bus to Denver. I told Aaron i would be better when i got back, that hopefully Jesus would heal me. But things worked out a little differently than i had expected at the big Popapalooza/Godstock even (as we called it).
me with graffiti

CHAPTER 11

GODSTOCK
being with a bunch of catholics was more triggering than it was healing. everyone on the trip was all kinds of fucked up, although i think i would have won the most fucked up catholic award, because on this trip, although some people brought gangsta rap, cigaretts and the jerky boys tape, i brought tarot cards, my witchcraft books, pills, alcohol and my bisexuality. On the bus trip, a boy named mike had a crush on me, and he was cute and a nice kid, and we fooled around in a sleeping bag AT the pope's outdoor mass.
This made me feel guilty in many ways because 1. as far as i was concerned, i was married 2. i was partly using him to cover up for the fact that i had a crush on several of the girls on the bus. One of the young adult leaders (she was like 25) came with us on the bus ride there. She was gorgous and reminded me of someone, although i could not figure out who.
She only came for the ride there, as when the pope arrived from Rome in his little bulletproof pope-mobile, she was the one who was going to be there to greet him personally. She had direct ties with the pope.
She didn't seem to like me. She found it very offensive that i brought tarot cards and witchcraft books, but her offense to me just made me like her even more.
It took us 3 days to get to Denver. The first night, we stopped in Ohio, where church members had offered to put us up. Me and my 2 roomies, Jenn and Missy stayed with a family where the father was a well known TV sports news anchor (in ohio and i dont recall his name). They took good care of us while their own teenage kids were off partying an we hardly got to meet them. The next night we stayed in Kansas where Pat Sears had some family. There were 2 boys there he knew, a 13 year old lil rebel and an 11 year old who wanted to be the pope when he grew up. Pat talked their parents into letting them come to Denver with us, even though they were very young. The 11 year old was named Andy James and he was the sweetest kid to ever meet. He was also a major flirt, flirting with all the older girls. He said yeah, he wanted to be pope, but it didnt mean he couldnt have some fun before he married god. His older brother (the 13 year old) was depressed and angry and smoked a lot of cigarettes.

When we arrived in Colorado, we stayed in Littleton... yes, Littleton, the town where 4 years later, the Columbine Massacre took place.
We met some amazing people, but Missy, Jenn and i stayed with a family in Littleton that did not like us... especially me. They especially especially didn't like us when we skipped out on church one day to get ready for the days events, and while the family was at church, we switched the TV channel from LIVE POPE COVERAGE to watch MTV's show about sex in the 90's. i forget what the show was called, but we watched a marathon of it while the family was at church, and when they returned home and saw us watching it, they flipped out, screaming that they were taping the pope thing and now instead they had taped people on MTV talking about kinky things and bisexuality. They blamed me for being the culpret even though i was not the one to change the channel. They seemed to hate me to an nth degree.

There were several events as part of World Youth Day. The 1st one was a giant Catholic rally at Mile High Stadium, where they tried to reach out to the youth by encorperating Jesus into pop culture. I will never forget "Whoomp, there He is!" (a tag team knock off)
The first rally was boring as shit. The next day we went into the city where there was all sorts of stuff going on outside. I enjoyed that day because we took off to go shopping on the Denver strreets. The day after that, we had to walk 7 miles to the middle of the Desert (in August). It was 100 degrees, but because this was during the grunge years, i had my favorite flannel around my waste and a sock hat sticking out of my back pocket. Most people did not bring sleeping bags or warm clothes, being as it was hot as hell, but they had neglected to mention to all the people coming from all over the world to see the Pope that 1. the desert drops to freezing level at night and 2. the high altitude of Colorado requires much much hydration, and with ater costing $3 a bottle, people were dropping like flies and freezing their asses off. I was lucky to have the flannel and sock hat though, cuz i guess you never know when style will come in handy.
The other thing though, was that i shared a sleeping bag with the kid Mike, and one thing led to another and i cheated on my "husband" at the Pope's mass, and i felt so much guilt about it, that i decided to drink the alcohol i brought with me and take a handful of the pills i brought. i honestly donbt even know what pills they were, cuz i took them from someone's medicine cabinet... i think some might have actually been vitamins, but either way, i was one of the first from my group to pass out and need to be rushed to an EMT station, There were so many people pasing out that all the hospitals were full and EMT's from all over the country were being recruited to Denver to help rehydrate people in local schools and churches and empty buildings.
I did not recover as fast as the other people who were mostly easily nursed back to health with gatorade. I had to fess up and tell them that i drank alcohol and took drugs. When Pat found out, he threatened to send me home on a plane and make my parents foot the extra bill. After i was finally brought back to health, i begged him not to send me home, and promised that when i got back to Massachusetts i would tell my parents to put me in detox. He was not happy with the idea, but my peers convinced him to let me stay.
When we returned home after Denver, all the kids were gonna go to Denny's together, but Pat made me tell my parents what i did the second we got back, and there would be no Denny's for me.
My parents did not want to send me to detox, but Pat insisted that they bring me to one. The only detox i knew of for kids was the Pegas House in Lawrence, and we set up an appointment there. However, the interviewers there made me keep my parents in the room while i was being interviewed and i did not feel comfortable answering all of their questions truthfully.
At the end of the interview, the man said "Do you think you need help?" and i said yes. The man said "then you're already way too far ahead of everyone else here to be admited. We only admit people who think they dont have a problem."
That seemed fucked up, but it was what it was. We went to my grandmother's house later that day and before i went to walk to youth group, i stole a bunch of almond and vanilla extract bottles from my grandmother's cubbord and drank them on the way to youth group. (extract is 70 proof alcohol)

The next day was the first day of school of my sort of softmore year (i failed most of freshman year).
I was back in school and feeling suicidal again. I decided that i was going to kill myself on Halloween.
But... in the beginning of October, a freshman at the school who was also a member of the St. Agnes church, tried to hang himself in his basement. He lived through the hanging but was in a coma in the hospital for a few weeks, and although we prayed for him at church every day, he ended up dying.
I didn't know the kid that well, and from what i did know, i never liked him. He was very mean to everyone. He probably had a reason. It probably had to do with the mafia to some extent, but his death for me at least was a deterrant not to kill myself because i didn't want people to think i as a copycat suicide... If i died, i wanted people to know it was my own pain that killed me. So instead, that Halloween night, i told my friend Jennifer i was suicidal, and the next day i entered McLean hospital for my first in-patient psych visit. I was there for a month.
me with graffiti

CHAPTER 12- THE END. Figure it out from here please

So, at Mclean everyone is fucked up. They all seem so familiar there. They've all been through the same cycles. Why do we seem to all know eachother? Eachothers stories, eachothers cycles? We are all very close to THE GODPARENTS who i mentioned at the beginning of the story. They work at McLean, on Proctor 2 is where the Godmother is the head nurse... retraumatizing each sexual assualt victim survivor when they see her there. They are afraid of her. She compliments us and then insults us. Everyone there knows fear. We re-traumatize eachother in there without meaning to, and then, if we know to much, they send us to North Belknap where they dont care about you at all. They try to tell you that you have gone psychotic and you need medicine like Haldol to stop you from being crazy.
They keep shit on the bathroom floors for days, in the shower you feel dirtier when you get out than you did when you got in. The sheets on the bed are square so that you can never get comfortable. They give you 1 very very thin plastic pillow, they insult you and laugh at you. It's the ward where all the cool kids go to laugh at those of us who have failed the mafia.

So this is my story. Maybe now i dont sound like a troll. Maybe i do. I know my parents are freaking out that i am up all night writing this. I wonder if they are scared because they dont know whats going on or are they scared because they do.

I think, that like the rest of the fucked up Conneticut family, they are hoping i will kill myself or that someone else will kill me. Then it doesnt have to be their fault.
They are good liars. I am better. I lie to them when they lie to me and i have outsmarted them.
Its time for an appology. Its time some people go to jail.