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“My contract gave me a year to write it, but I was so messed up that year that a year later I hadn’t written a single word.Then I started to write [the book] at this rehab in Thailand.I mean, certainly people always tried to help but I think when you’re on a kamikaze mission, a lot of those people know that there is no stopping that." After I’d finished her book, I thought of the phrase, “the gift of desperation.” That’s what I had when I landed in rehab at age 26. My solution came with abstinence but others choose “harm reduction.” When asked about her number one tip about turning weaknesses into strengths, she said, “I’ve got this slogan. It was these girls in wheelchairs and the slogan was, 'If you can’t stand up, stand out.' And for me, I felt like that really, you know, this whole media career I have orchestrated from my bed. I lost my job and because of the Internet or whatever, I got the most attention so I was on disability getting contacted for, you know, by . Her career is based on a can-you-top-this approach, but as she describes horribly embarrassing details, she’s hilarious.I am one snort, one pill, one shot away from relapsing. My career popped off in the press a couple years ago. She described the décor in one of her apartments as “midcentury meth lab.” I had to laugh when she said, “I love media but writing is torture.” How long did it take to write this book? The woman I met was brunette, childlike and vulnerable.
Ah, yes, that explained the telltale speedy “tics” of darting eyes, tucking her legs under her like a school girl, then untucking them, voice bursting out, then trailing off.
The author was charismatic and likable, but I immediately felt concern that she was in emotional distress.
She fidgeted like a speed freak and her words tumbled out with sentences frequently abandoned mid-thought.
Her self-effacing humor, tough-chick persona, and streetwise lingo are entertaining, yet uncomfortably remind me of my defenses pre-recovery, before others taught me how to love myself. Born with beauty, brains and advantages, this woman-child is a perfect example of “white-girl privilege.” Yet, she is also an ideal illustration of how little your station in life matters when your brain coils are misfiring.
Despite her privileged circumstances—or perhaps because of them—her psyche is damaged.