Life Lessons

Have you ever been slapped so hard in the face with a dose of reality that it changed the way you view your life entirely? A blow that comes at you so fast and unexpectedly that it causes your stomach to drop? It is the same feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when a rollercoaster takes that initial plunge from the highest point of the ride and for a split second your body is suspended mid air. You feel as though you are going to vomit, you are dizzy, and you can hear the sound of your own heart beating, almost echoing outside of your body.

On April 8, 2005, sixteen days before my fifteenth birthday, I received my own harsh dose of reality, learning the dangers of mixing alcohol with a clinically depressed fourteen-year-old girl, whose weight was at 109 pounds and dropping, who hadn’t eaten in two days, and who, quite frankly, just did not give a fuck. I should not be alive today, and for a while after the incident I wished I were dead.

My mom woke me up at the first sign of morning to drag me two hours away to the University of Massachusetts Amherst. There I would spend my Friday watching my brother and his bike team ride around on a dirt loop for five fucking hours in what they considered an “exhilarating race” against their rival school. Quite frankly, the only thing I found “exhilarating” about the event was the thought of the riders colliding tires and being catapulted over their handle bars, which I had heard happened at least two or three times a race.

No part of me wanted to be there. It was cold out, I was under-dressed, and the wind was biting harshly at my skin. I was exhausted, partly because it was early but mainly because I hadn’t eaten or sustained any food in the last couple of days and I was convinced that my stomach had rebelled against my hunger strike and was eating itself as a last resort. The only thing that kept me occupied was that I had my phone and I spent the day texting my boyfriend trying to come up with a plan to get my mom to drop me off at his house on the way home.

His parents were away for the weekend and he was throwing a party. My mom never allowed me to go to anyone’s house unless she spoke to a parent and knew I was being supervised. We needed a way around this dilemma and eventually we were able to convince his older brother to talk to my mom and say he was around, despite the fact that he was going out for the night.