Emily’s partying didn’t make headlines like Britney’s or Lindsay’s, but she needed help all the same.
As told to: Melissa Daly
My friends and I used to hang out behind the movie theater in Delray Beach, Florida, where I live. We were only 13, but we met some older guys there, and I started smoking pot and drinking with them to look “cool.” At first it was just on weekends, but then I began doing it more often, until being sober actually felt weird. Soon I was using ecstasy and entire boxes of over-the-counter drugs. I even went to school high.
One night in April 2005, I came home all messed up, and my mom confronted me, crying. “You’re going to rehab! I don’t care what you say!” she yelled. I was so angry at her for making me go. But at the same time I kind of wanted to—I was falling deeper and deeper into this hole. I thought any kind of change might help me get out.
THE FIRST DAY: CHECKING IN
On May 11, I arrived at Comprehensive Alcoholism Rehabilitation Programs (CARP). When I got there, I talked to a psychiatrist, who checked for mental problems by asking me questions like whether I’d ever thought of suicide, what year it was, and who the president was. Then they did a drug test, which was positive for, like, everything.
Next they went through my stuff to take away things like tank tops (they can be a gang symbol where the rehab center is located), makeup, and CDs. It was such an invasion of privacy! There were other rules too—no cussing or talking about sex. There were cameras in the halls and microphones in the bedrooms. I shared my room with three of the other six girls in the program. We weren’t locked in, but most girls, like me, were there because their parents had gotten court orders forcing them to go.
I started out at Level Zero, which meant I had no privileges. Each week, they said, they’d evaluate my behavior and move me up or down. At Level One I’d get to send and receive mail and make one phone call a week. From Level Two through Four I’d get more phone calls, visitations, and home visits.
That first night I couldn’t sleep. My mattress was plastic and foam, and the room was too dark. I was already so homesick. Even though I was raging mad at them, I missed my parents.
7:30 A.M.: WAKE-UP CALL
We were woken up by an attendant talking over the loudspeaker. After breakfast came morning group, where we talked about how we were all getting along and how we were doing. For the first few days, my answer was “really, really bad.” I was having withdrawal symptoms, like sweats, vomiting, and massive stomachaches. I thought, Please, God, just bring me anything to get high and make this stop.
10 A.M.–3 P.M.: SCHOOL
Even though it was summer, we took regular classes, with lunch in between.
3 P.M.–9 P.M.: GROUP THERAPY
The counselors spoke about topics like the health effects of drugs, or we’d role-play situations that had happened with our parents. Sometimes a Level Four girl would just lead an open discussion about things that had made us mad or how we were feeling in general. For the first couple months, I was like, Spare me—I’ve heard it all before. After dinner at 6, we had even more groups.
9 P.M.–10 P.M.: AA
There were Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) or Narcotics Anonymous (NA) meetings each night, in which recovering addicts told their stories. Some were really inspirational, like one woman who went from being a homeless drug addict to no drugs. All the people who told those recovery stories—that could be me. I decided I had to start trying. I talked to my counselor more, and I told the group that I was ready to have a better life. One night the NA/AA speaker was a girl who was kind of punk rock, like me, so I asked her to be my sponsor (a current AA member who guides a new member).
WEEKENDS: PARENT MEETINGS
On Saturdays we had one-on-one sessions with our counselors (and sometimes our parents) to work through issues and plan for life at home. After six long months, my counselor felt that my attitude had changed and that I’d reconnected with my mom and dad. That’s when she told me, “You’re going home.” I was so happy! I was ready to be sober for good.
But then a month after I left, I went to a party, and I relapsed. That set off an eight-month binge of pot, coke, ecstasy, acid, and mushrooms. My mom suspected it, but I just lied when she asked. It went on until one night in August 2006. I was lying on a couch at a party, feeling like death. I kept asking myself, What would happen to my parents if I died? Before, I hadn’t cared if my mom cried when I came home high. But the months of therapy made me realize how selfish I’d been. The next day I threw away my drugs, and I’ve been clean ever since. Now I have nearly straight A’s, a good relationship with my parents, and great new friends. Rehab was the worst, but because of it, I’m happier than I’ve ever been.