There are some things I don't want to talk about. I've been writing on this blog like I'm someone who has had bad stuff happen and you would want to be sorry for, but dont feel too sorry before you know the whole story about me and my mom and what kind of person I am. I need people to read what I say and feel sorry for me a little bit and understand me, or really just for me to understand me really. The people who I have hurt probably don't need to understand me any better than they already do. And my mom would have forgave me anything automatically. Even after I went all psychobitch on her at just the wrong time in her life. Thats what makes it so hard, and why I dont want to talk about it.
Greta says its fine to have subjects that we dont talk about. All I have to do is tell her I dont want to talk about something and she writes it down on a list of things we wont talk about. But I know what she is doing really, collecting the juicy stuff that has the start of all my stuff. So she writes down the thing I dont want to talk about when I mention it and then reads me the list of things she has so far, like she's just checking to see if she got everything, and usually what happens it then I start talking about one of the things on the list and using up the whole session on it. Its supposed to be one hour, but we always go at least one and a half or two.
So here goes, stuff I dont want to believe I did. What I am thinking about is around the time we found out my mom might be really sick. She had been going to the doctor more often than normal last year, but then in January, after christmas was over but all of us home for dinner one weekend, mom and dad told us that she had cancer and it wasnt one of the easy ones. So yeah we were all like youll beat it mom, will all support you and find you the best doctors and it will all be fine. We didnt even think she would die, we thought it would be real bad and she would lose her hair and be all sick but eventually she would get better and we could all be proud of ourselfs and her. Didnt work that way though, even with what we did, but that was what we thought, it would be real hard on mom, and we would step up and do our best.
It was a month or so later that the college admission letters or rejection letters came out. Mom was still just fine, no sign of her really being sick and it seemed like things were back to normal for all of us. I'm a smart kid, always had an easy time in school, teachers thought I was smart, although I didnt really get the grades I could have. I graduated with a 3.89 gpa, not bad, would have been a dream grade for some kids, but not the grades Reed, and Stanford wanted to see. I got rejected from Reed, the school I had these dreams about. You read the Odyssey as a group of the whole freshman class for the first half of the year and all the classes relate to what you read in it. A lot of interesting and very smart people went there and I dreamed about going there and getting the kind of education that would make me a great writer or something, and maybe meeting some special super intelligent and good looking guy to make a life with and have this perfect little life. Its the kind of place that celebrates creative and a little different people. They didnt want me.
Mom and Dad dreamed about me going to stanford. My brother and sister both didnt. I was the last chance for one of their kids to go to the school they wanted most for their kids. And really if I would have disiplined myself in highschool and got 4.0 or above (most kids there were ABOVE 4.0) I could have had a better chance. I felt a little like I had let them down, and a lot like my dream life wouldnt happen. Of course I did get into several UC campus's, which is not bad really, a lot of kids dont even get that and have to go to state colleges or JC. But I felt like I had screwed up.
The real screw ups came a bit later, I really did screw up, making not getting into my first colleges look like nothing at all.
Mom had been fine for a while, it was like she wasnt sick at all, but one week she was feeling tired and cranky, and I was stressed trying to make sure I got through with high school, and I didnt think too much about asking if I could go to a party with some people I knew. Mom and dad always let me do stuff if they knew the people and I said I would be good. They trusted me. And I was the good girl. I was the girl that all the other kids thought was the goody goody who wouldnt do ANYTHING. I was still a virgin, I wouldnt try pot, I didnt get drunk or dis my parents. I was happy innocent little Chole. Not really, but thats what people thought. And really I didnt do bad stuff, just tried new things sometimes.
So I went to this party with two other girls and 3 guys. It was one of the guys houses, and his parents were away and we were planning on kind of pretending that we were grown up and have a dinner party and some wine too. We were going to cook and sit at the table like we were some big shot friends, like we saw our parents doing. Except some other people heard about it and that his parents were out of town and showed up and asswipe my guy let them in, and it was a different kind of party. I was pissed off because I was looking forward to it and maybe a little minor bit of hook up with my guy. That was kind of the plan. Instead it turned into a drinking party with a bunch of teenagers. Not the sophisticated evening I fantasized.
Living where we do its not too hard to get wine. We all know what wine our parents think is shit and wont notice a few bottles missing. and a lot of people have cases of wine pushed into a corner in the garage or something, that we could borrow from. I had a bottle to myself, and some vodka too, and maybe more wine. My guy wasnt really paying me much attention and I was getting sort of sick to my stomach, so I said I was going to pee. After I peed I just walked out the back door so no one would see and decided I would walk home. I was thinking fuck him, asshole, fuck them all. Yeah right well I did sort of. They lived pretty close to 29 so I walked over to it and started along it towards home. (which was maybe 4 or 5 miles). And I was doing real good, every time I stumbled or started to walk into the highway I would just say whoopsy and change direction. I was real proud of myself, that I would walk so drunk and still keep going. I did fall down a couple of times, and wander a bit too close to traffic, but so far so good. Until the car with the pretty lights on top stopped in front of me.
They looked so pretty, red and blue and flashing. And I wasnt driving so I thought I would just tell him that I wasnt driving and he would say oh ok and I would keep on walking. But when he walked up to me and I started to talk, I got this funny rushing feeling and instead of my words coming out, puke shot out all over. I remember thinking that is not what I wanted to say, and seeing bits of food on his shiny cop shoes. And I tried to talk again and puked more. Then I started to cry. And puke. And then I was on my knees puking in the dirt and thinking he would help me and maybe wipe my mouth, but he was using the radio to call for back up, and I know what that means! He was going to get some more cops and they would tazer me and maybe touch me, and take me to jail. So I curled up in a ball on the ground, in my puke crying and saying NO, NO and crying.
Really all he was doing was calling for a woman so there wouldnt be any question about his handling of me. And while he waited he knelt next to me and told me it would be ok, but I didnt believe him. I should have, because later I found out he was a good guy with kids like me and had seen too many kids killed in drunk driving. The woman cop though was PISSED off at me like you wouldnt believe. She called me a stupid spoiled little rich brat, and said I was going to jail and then she would find who gave me the alcohol and send them to prison. She put me in her car pretty rough and told me if I puked that would be it. I did puke once more, but I did it down the inside of my shirt so it didnt really get on her car.
They took me back to the police station and called my parents and wrote up reports and stuff, and asked me where I got the alcohol. And here is why a WHOLE LOT of people dont like me anymore. I told them. Its not like anyone got arrested either, it was in a private home and the kids were underage, but the cops didnt think it would go anywhere to arrest them. But they did tell the parents when they came home, and call all the other parents they could, and word got around town and the parents were embarrased in front of the people they knew. Now you know why alot of people didnt get to go on senior trip. Me. Stupid slut snitch. (really said)
Some of the guys had worked to pay for it themselves, and a whole lot of people were looking forward to it. The people that did go hate me because the people that didnt go would have made it fun, but weren't there, and the ones that stayed home hate me because they missed one of the big things for graduation. My nick name is now chloeshit, among certain people, a play on my name that I will prob never loose.
Anyway my mom and dad showed up at the police station and I was starting to be less drunk, and my mom, she runs up to me and hugs me and holds my head on her shoulder and is trying to sooth me! And I'm covered in puke and road dirt and snot and tears and its getting all over her and she isnt noticing at all. And I'm crying again, because I feel so stupid and embarassed and worthless and drunk and and and and.
They took me home. The guy cop was real nice and gave my dad a garbage bag so my puke wouldnt get on his leather seats. I remember the woman cop snearing and saying bitchy things under her breath, but so I could hear.
My mom and dad got me home and showered and into bed and all. And later I got a talking too, not like normal when they would ask me about things and discuss what I had done wrong, but more like lecture. I think they were really disappointed in me. And worried too. I was dissappointed in myself too, but also kind of proud of myself for having the experience and the story to tell that would maybe make me seem a little cooler or something. Turns out its not cool to puke on people, snitch on people, or drink too much. I had my car taken away, was grounded, and told that I owed chores until they were felt that I had made it up to them.
Thats kinda one thing I dont even like to remember, my drunken stupidity, much less talk about. The only people who think its cool are losers. But really I do want to talk about it. Some kids dads would have beat them for what I did, and the mom treat them like dirt from then on, but I didnt really learn my lesson right away.
I was going to talk about some other things that I dont want to talk about, and that bother me, but I changed my mind for now. But I didn't turn all good after this, I turned worse, and treated my mom real shitty, and I CAN'T talk about that right now. But you get the idea, my moms sick with cancer and I am treating her like shit, when I was going to be all helping and caring. Now you know why I'm in therapy.