I found this box, under mounds of pornographic material, a box I’ve carried from home to home and never had the motivation to open and sort. The box is tattered, torn, it doesn’t stay together very well but it seems to make my moves with me just fine, it never crumbles, it just holds it’s little boxy form and I carry it into the next house. It’s the only box in my home with unknown contents, and in this last move, I tried to leave it at the house in Sherman Oaks, thinking “I haven’t looked in this box in years, certainly there can’t be anything in there I need.”
I opened the box and found Goodnight Moon and photo albums, found packages of pictures that had never made it into the actual album. I found quarters and dimes, spare change of all sorts and those perfumes I’d mentioned the day before. I found my small collection of Dunny’s, these little bunny shape figures that come in small rectangular boxes, and when you purchase the Dunny you never know which one you are getting, always my reason behind purchasing. Will I like this surprise? Will I be let down? $7 never seemed like that much to spend for a possibly awesome little figure, and these little guys used to sit on my dressers in San Diego, and before when I lived in Woodland Hills. Bleeze started buying them for me when I was 22, after I quit doing cocaine the first time, he knows how much I like surprises and a $7 surprise is a cheap way to make my day.
I found a packet of pictures. For some reason I have only looked at my progress in the past year, due to the recent sobriety thing I figured nothing had happened before April 6th, 2009, life had simply started after that “birthday”. This packet of pictures showed my life in San Diego, maybe 50 shots total, starting with my boys and me at the beach, smoking blunts, soft smiles and stoney eyes. Picture of the ocean, the sunshine, our shoes jetting out before the great Pacific. About halfway through the photos, locations change, and the pictures go from bright and sunny to florescent lit rooms, people with names I cannot recall, pictures of me where I get skinnier and skinnier and my smile goes from delicate and honest to forced and wild. There were two pictures where I was caught off guard, where the photographer didn’t give me enough time to create the face necessary for a great, wacky photo. The truth of my 21st year on earth screams out through these photos, eyes bloodshot and empty, waist sucked in, pictures from my days at 85lbs (I weigh 130lbs now and feel just fine about it…), and I couldn’t help but see the sad little girl I once was, remember that this journey started long before Rehab. Long before Dr. Drew and Duncan Roy, and long before my last drink.
A ton of emotions came up while looking at these pictures. Sadness. Pain. Gratitude for being where I am today, which is a happy and healthy place to be. But more than anything, it was unsettling, it made me uncomfortable to see those brief moments where truth slipped through unnoticed. I remember looking at the pictures right after they were developed, while I was still a cocaine cowgirl, and thinking “finally, a picture where I look thin.” I still had no idea how much weight I’d lost until a girlfriend forced me onto a scale, all I’ve ever wanted was to be 110 lbs and the scale read 85. I didn’t realize I had a problem until then and it took a few more months of insanity to hit a bottom.
I put the packet aside and opened an album. Praying there was something inside to lighten the mood, something to take me back further, to a time where it doesn’t hurt to remember, where the memories are welcomed and kind.
Sadie Hawkins my freshman year. Hawaiian themed, smiling with a face full of braces and freckles, lined up with other girls doing the cancan line kick with thick soled heels.
My little sister with her face upside down and our cat right side up in her lap, looking incredibly serious for a 5th grader.
Grandpa, Grandma, sis, bro and me standing in pajamas, I was 14 and had just started experimenting with dieting.
Colored notes from girlfriends urging me and wishing me luck on my driving test when I still spelled my name with a Y (I liked to change between i, y and ie to throw people off).
Funny poems from boys in my drama class.
Cheerleading camp at UC Santa Cruz.
My Senior Prom picture with the first boy I ever really loved, I had blond streaks and was happy, he wore a Zoot suit and a shit eating grin as we held hands and posed in front of the fake SF skyline.
At the bottom of the box, a framed picture I’ve carried with me since I moved into my first apartment on Reservoir Dr. in San Diego at 19. Cream colored with a small red square baring the Chinese symbol for “journey.” The frame had shattered into a million pieces, but the picture is still intact, a few scrapes here and there but for the most part in perfect condition. I cleaned off the glass, cut the mangled edges and placed it aside to be re-matted and then reframed. I’ll hang it in my new home, near the door to remind me of the day I opened my personal Pandora’s box, and hope it helps me stay focused.
“Only a fool mistakes memories for facts…”
Lance
April 2, 2010
Jennie, I am so glad that you started this journey to get yourself to a better place where the future is not written yet just as it is not for any of us. Yet a future where the sky is the limit rather than a sky over you where you find yourself reaching up from the depths of despair.
I know it must have been hard to look at those pictures and see how the life you led was truly as sad as the worst memories that the depth of you mind could conjure up.
I know that just for me anyway it is so much better to read of your rediscovering of Jennie and all of the promise that you hold rather than hearing about the further adventures of Penny and her descent into a dark place of her own.
firstverb
April 2, 2010
Miss Jennifer,
I very much enjoyed this post. I think everyone has one of those boxes. Mine just got moved to the attic a few months ago. A rush of emotions and feelings of the past comes out of the box every few years when it is rediscovered. I am not learned in the ways of the mind, however I think your subconscious self knew what was in that box. It knew you would need the things in that box some day. I think that might be how and why it was never left behind. Of course what do I know. Thank you very much for the memories.
Have a glorious day.
Jane
April 2, 2010
Wonderful Jennie
Sneaking in an early “happy birthday” here…and my deepest gratitude to you for your courage and beautiful writing. I’m a 50 year old food addict with what sometimes seems like lethal depression and your awesome blog–it’s honesty, courage, articulate writing even when you feel the most confused or unsettled–these fill me with hope for recovery, or, if I can’t manage my own, at least the joy of knowing there are “kids*” like you coming up in the world…
*(couldn’t resist, from the lofty heights of age 🙂
Lance
April 2, 2010
Jane, just because Jennie is young enough to be my daughter does not mean I am on any lofty height. At least not yet, go Jennie and anyone else struggling with issues. Jane , I would say the same thing to you. You seem to have identified what the problem is just as Jennie did. Take it one day at a time, Rome was not built in a day.
Brendan
April 2, 2010
I just got a bookcase for my b-day and needed to move a lot of stuff around, mostly books and boxes of books and notes. I found my box full of Gibran and Kabir poems and started leafing through them. I found one Kabir poem that jumped out at me because i had been thinking about the material bonds of the world and the straining of the spirit against those bonds. Addiction seems to be one of the clearest examples of that bondage. Anyway, here it is, hope you like:
I.57 sādho bhāī, jīvat hī karo āśā
O FRIEND! Hope for Him whilst you live, understand while you live: for in life deliverance abides.
If your bonds be not broken whilst living, what hope of deliverance in death?
It is but an empty dream, that the soul shall have union with Him because it has passed from this body:
If He is found now, He is found then,
If not, we do but go to dwell in the City of Death.
If you have union now, you shall have it hereafter.
Bathe in the truth, know the true Guru, have faith in the true Name!
Kabir says: “It is the Spirit of the quest which helps; I am the slave of this Spirit of the quest.”
by Kabir, translated from the Hindi by Rabindranath Tagore
Jeff
April 2, 2010
Good girl.
jill
April 2, 2010
love love love love your writing. it is so evocative and real and gorgeously crafted. I get sad when I have to go a few days between posts of yours. keep writing. can’t wait till your book comes out.
MetalRabbit13
April 2, 2010
Jennie,
Wow. I’m so glad that you found the good memories but isn’t that always the way. They get buried under all the crap but when you clear it away, you find them again. Still, that was then and this is now, and you’ve indeed been on a “Journey”. And memories, good or bad are only true if we choose to make them so. I keep thinking of the band, “Journey” and their song “Don’t Stop Believing”. It’s been kind of my theme song as of late and I think that even when you weighed 85 lbs., that something in your soul kept whispering the truth to you… that it would get better with one step at a time.
I hope that you can hold onto the joy of those happy memories and not mourn for what might have been, because I don’t know how that other girl would have turned out, but who you are now is amazing. You’ve come through the fire and you’re stronger and shinier and all the dross has been burned away. You rock. I know that you’ll keep sailin’ on. So I’ll wish you fair winds and following seas. And a blessing for your new home.
Blessings,
Amanda
John W
April 2, 2010
just caught up on your last three posts here and want to tell you what a courageous, strong woman i see in your words…my girlfriend always brushes it off when i call her strong, she’s been through the ringer herself; but i think she doesn’t truly understand strength, whether its physical or emotional…i was a certified personal trainer but even before that knew the body only becomes strong through challenge and adversity…you must ‘break’ your muscles in order for them to grow stronger, similarly with bones…strength doesn’t come from bearing light loads but loads which threaten to overtake you…in the gym you know you’re growing stronger with the ability to lift heavier weights; in life you see it in coming out the other side (most likely with some scars) but still knowing who you are or rediscovering it, still caring to try, desiring for life itself and not a hole to hide in, still being able to love…you are courageous in taking these steps and strong for bearing them…i too had a walk down memory lane not long ago…my aunt made a picture album for me with pictures of my childhood; first trip to disneyland, family reunions, pictures of my family, my mom…there are no photos of my dark places and thank God for that but there are these of a little boy with endless possibilities and those of a young man hiding behind a smile and i know what was behind it…then at the the end there are two recent ones and the smile is no longer fake…glad you found some things from before penny…and while memories are not facts, we are lost without them…they are little pieces in a huge mosaic; some good, some bad, some bright, some dark, but all creating one picture…hopefully a beautiful one as yours is looking to be…have a blessed easter
Jena
April 2, 2010
Your journey is simply incredible and shows just how strong of a woman you are. Keep it up! You are an inspiration to me.
Pierre
April 2, 2010
It’s amazing how small a picture is, and how much it can bring us to things that we forgot. A picture is a vision to the soul, as we see little details that give us great joy, or great sorrow. Some pictures make us smile, some make us reflect, while others just take our breath away, or make us realize that time does change us all. It’s how we use that time that makes us who we are, in the past and in the present. Most of have time capsules, with things that may seem so insignificant to someone else, but not to us. Keep your treasures close Jenny/Jenni, as they are part of you!
matthew
April 2, 2010
You are an amazing talent as a writer.I am so proud of you, truly
i too have a box , ive been so far from home for quite some time .its been years since ive explored its contents, or added to its collection.
Matt
April 2, 2010
Nice post Jennie (Jenny? lol). Great to see you finding some positive things in your past. I have a box of useless junk from my past in my room. I think I started it specifically so I could go through it years later, reminisce, get some perspective, etc. Maybe I’ll go through it today.
It’s too bad that you’re not on Sober House more, but maybe it’s a good sign that you’re one of the least f’ed up people on the show, and you can really support the others. Lots of love from Canada!
J
April 2, 2010
Jennie,
I made a post yesterday about throwing all of my stuff away in a dumpster. I did keep a small amount,… in my shoe box to remind where I have been and to remind me of my journey today. I keep the box stuffed away in my closet. I know it is there but, I don’t go looking for it. My good-life today is my daily reminder of where my life used to be.
My best to you. One day at a time……..
GeeWiz
April 2, 2010
Jennie;
Something below from my “Pandora’s Box”, intuition told me to share.
I hope it has some value for you.
Best path – GeeWiz
The Man In The Glass
When you get what you want in your struggle for self
And the world makes you king for a day,
Just go to the mirror and look at yourself
And see what that man has to say.
For it isn’t your father or mother or wife
Whose judgment upon you must pass.
The fellow whose verdict counts most in you life
Is the one staring back from the glass.
You may be like Jack Horner and chisel a plum
And think you’re a wonderful guy.
But the man in the glass says you’re only a bum
If you can’t look him straight in the eye.
He’s the fellow to please-never mind all the rest,
For he’s with you clear to the end.
And you’ve passed your most dangerous, difficult test
If the man in the glass is your friend.
You may fool the whole world down the pathway of years
And get pats on the back as you pass.
But your final reward will be heartache and tears
If you’ve cheated the man in the glass.
by Dale Wimbrow, (c) 1934
Meyhem
April 2, 2010
Touche’
But will you remember the previous days or this one?
I am perfectly aware that my brain is not the most trustworthy one in the world. I rejoice in that fact because there are things in my past I am not ready to deal with yet. Perhaps I never will be. I am not opposed to discovering (or rediscovering) new or old truths, but I cannot obsess about it, because I simply don’t controll the timing. Even then I still have to filter these things through my sadly flawed brain. I hope this is where a higher power comes in…
No matter how hard I try, I simply cannot maintain the perspective that I had when I was younger. Even five minutes younger. My perspective is always changing from second to second. I am already not the same person that I was when I started writing this comment, and no matter how hard you try, or whether you find this insightful, bullshit, boring, or anything in-between, you will not have the same perspective once you read it.
You looked at these pictures once, before you put them in the box, you said as much. But you diden’t see them the same way then as you do now. Something about it’s all lessons, I think. I am not saying that memory can’t trick you, or even that it doesen’t change with time. I am saying that correct or flawed, It is the only tool we always have at any point in time, even if it’s blank.
We can only work with what we have.
Luck and prayers
Meyhem
Jonathan
April 2, 2010
Nice writin’.
Brittany
April 2, 2010
I was drawn to the Goodnight Moon book on your blog… it remains one of my favorite childhood stories that I still cherish today. This is my first time visiting your blog, and I just wanted to say that after watching Sex Rehab and Soberhouse, you’re a breath of fresh air. Thank you for being so real and open about everything because you’ve made others open their eyes to what life should be like. Continue to search for boxes like those… I find some everynow and then, and they’re almost a snapshot into a past life. You live and you learn. And I hope that you keep living because there’s so much out there to experience. Peace & Love
Michael C
April 3, 2010
“Only a fool mistakes memories for facts…”
I needed to hear this today. Thank you.
jd
April 3, 2010
Listening to jimi Hendrix’s “Valleys of Neptune while reading your blog; for some strange reason they just go well together.
Invisible Mikey
April 3, 2010
This is one of my favorite posts of yours because it invites the reader along on the journey so sweetly. I think you’re at your writing best when you allow yourself vulnerability, but still move forward step-by-step, opening doors and revealing new understanding.
And what a great ending! I never read a better true-story/metaphor for RE-FRAMING, looking at life with new eyes, the thing you are doing throughout your current adventures.
Adam
April 3, 2010
Sounds like the box that you found is a metaphor for your new life. No matter how tattered and torn the box may be, you can never break it. The contents inside are still kept safe and sound. I am thinking that you are the box, at one time tattered and torn. But you never broke completly. You kept the memories inside if you safe from whatever direction your life was going. The contents are makings of who you really are.
I ale so have a box like that. I am in the Army now and left behind a life of reckless partying and no hope. Since then i have been to war and seen things I think people should never have to see. And I know i am a completely different person now, but in all, I am a much better person. I never take anything for granted now and have a new love for life. But I still sometimes get down and out but then i will see that box and remember that I really do have it much better then I did before.
Anthony
April 4, 2010
Wow. I really only heard about your rehab today. Good for you. Blog seems really honest, I’ll be reading.
Keep Up The Fight.
-Anthony
greer
April 4, 2010
i just saw dennis last night. i told him about my fav part of the show when you told him the view is much better up here. love love love it
Kevin
April 4, 2010
“Only a fool mistakes memories for facts…”
I was wondering, where did you get this quote from? It’s strong. In truth, it knocked me over. I haven’t heard a sentiment like that in a while.
Sadly, most people never truly understand the meaning behind such a statement. Its something you have to live.
I’m quibbling, does that make them a fool, or just ignorant? “Fool” seems too critical, too harsh a judgment. Some people just need to have their eyes opened.
Michael
April 4, 2010
Clearing away the cr@p doesn’t mean that we cannot find bits and pieces of good from those days.
Look at the starving girl, and find the healthy woman you became. Embrace her, not for the drugs which made her so unappealing, but for the hope of perfection she strove toward.
She was confused about what she wanted. You are less so. (I’d say not at all, but no one knows that).
Look at the old photos, and see if you suddenly recall amends you have to make to some of the people in those images. Happens.
Autistic Steve
April 4, 2010
Autistic Steve seeks advise:
There must be a secret formalur for picking up a girlfriend. I see girls all over the place…So ask Jennie, she would know! Realistically you can’t walk up to a random girl and ask her out. How would you recommend the art of smoothness? If you were a “dude”, how would you get a date? This seems nearly impossible. Any super advise?
anonymoose
April 5, 2010
thank you for writing this. thank you thank you thank you. thank you.
tonidogg
April 5, 2010
Its funny when you have random things in random boxes in randoms spots that you havent looked at in years. Its like finding a hidden treasure when you evenually stumble across things. My friends and used to think it was hilarious to get random things that said 420. Anything from reciepts to putting big signs up our shirts going down the freezer isle in the grocery store identifying the prices of frozen hashbrowns..o those were the days of “close to innocent” fun. Over the years everything we collected slowly dissapeared. When I moved a few years back at the very bottom of a box i hadnt opened in forever was a faded cut off price tag from a block of cheese and the price for it was $4.20. It brought back so many memories and i laughed my ass off. As dumb as it sounds, I kept the cheese tag and I still have it in my photo albums box. I guess its one of those “kinda had to be there” moments but it was good to see. Looking forward to your next post….tomarrow is a big day for you. Congrats on all your achievements and my quit date begins with yours! Goddluck to us both for kickin ciggies!
Monique
April 5, 2010
Hello there, Happy Easter!
Michael
April 8, 2010
Don’t have a box, as such.
I have a filing drawer. A year and a couple of months after Rita died, I found a bundle in one of the fan-folds, old envelopes.
I opened one, and it was a love letter I wrote her 21 years ago.
So I dug into the bundle, and as far as I can tell, it was ALL the love letters, the happy ones and the fixit ones and the angry-but-I-love-you-anyway ones.
All of them. EVERY LAST ONE!
I broke down when I realized I stopped writing them to her about 5 years before she died.
Now I can’t write anymore of them to her, and it breaks my heart.
Please, Jennie (y, i?) give Mr. Man your heart on paper, and keep them when he gives some back to you.
You can’t imagine how important that is a year after your love has gone for good.
b
April 19, 2010
I look back at my old pictures and sometimes I smile at how far I’ve come… but usually I miss being young and dumb and seeing nothing wrong with living in fantasy land.
i’m going strong, even if i can’t see anything tangible to keep me going. I hope I find the point pretty soon.