“Why aren’t you getting up, don’t you have to get to work?” I asked Julia as she remained in bed.
“I’m taking a personal day. I want to organize the house.
”What??” I was not happy about this. “You’re not to organize this house. Leave everything exactly where it is.”
I’d curated everything to my taste precisely, and I didn’t want anyone touching it, besides which, I felt this was my house alone because, even though I’d asked Julia to move in with me, I felt I’d done so at the point of a gun.
“I can’t live here anymore, Rosalind’s become unbearable, I swear she’s dangerous.” Julia said of her prior living arrangement with an old friend named Roz.
“Well why don’t you move in here. . . I guess?”
I both wanted her to move in, because I wanted to try living with a lover—I’d never done it— but I felt pressured into it, even though she had other places to go. But I’d clearly extended the invitation and I childishly resented it, I felt manipulated. I was pissy and not gracious when it came to matters of the home we shared—which must have made her feel like a visitor in her own home. Something I regret to this day. I kissed her good-bye as she lay in bed and said “I love you and don’t touch anything in the house.”
I stopped in the kitchen to check my Vicodin supply. There were still only four pills—which I’d hoped would magically multiply as I slept. This meant a trip to the urgent care on the way home. Four Vicodin would keep me well through the day but when it came to pills I was ravenous. If I had a full bottle, I had what they call “full bottle Syndrome.” I’d skim the cream off the top—twelve or so pills—then take them all. If I had four pills, I had to take all four. I took only two before I walked out the door, hoping to save the other two Vicodin for mid-afternoon. No sooner did I get in my car than I took the other two.
This addiction was beyond my control. It was pure animal instinct. The taking and pursuing of drugs overrode the executive function in my brain and I was operating from that reptilian part of me that has no control or logic. My posture changed, my stare changed, my walk changed when seeking drugs. One day when I was looking for opiates, I found a sketchy online dealer. All I could focus on was getting the drugs and he said once I wired him the money he’d deliver them. I wired a thousand dollars to an address he gave me and I waited. He called and said “I’m outside your house.” I ran out with my phone. He called “Where are you? I don’t see you.” He said.
“I’m in front of my house.” I said, getting more and more desperate. Sweat now dripping down my temples.
“I don’t see you! I don’t see you!” He exclaimed unexplainably frantically.
“I’m right here. In front of the address I gave you.”
“I have to leave.” He said.
And with that I lost a thousand dollars. Like an idiot I’d gotten completely conned. During the entire event I was in a trance. That is the best way I can describe it. This happened many years after I’d lived with Julia and worked for Carsey/Werner. I only had a thousand dollars in my bank account. When I woke up the next morning I thought I had dreamed the entire event and was relieved to realize that I hadn’t spent all that money. It slowly dawned on me that it had actually happened while I was in an altered state. I was horrified and kept questioning if what happened was real or a dream, until I knew for sure it was real.
I get to work. I feel no effect from the four Vicodin. I’m just not sick. Elizabeth and I, though it’s early on in our relationship, have developed an easy rapport with each other. She’s efficient and competent and most importantly we laugh together.
I’d been at the company less than two weeks and I was still getting my bearings. Defining my role at the company had been difficult. I reported to the head of the department, which made it hard for me to develop a sense of autonomy. After all, he’d picked out my assistant, so I wasn’t sure exactly what I was allowed to be doing there. It was incumbent upon me to assert myself and establish my presence with Tom and Marcy; stick the thin edge of my wedge into Tom and Marcy’s world. Then they called me into the tiny lunch room where they all ate, and talked to me. It was just a get to know me and say hello. It was an opportunity to establish a relationship with them, but I was intimidated by their success. I stood against the door..If I could have stood outside the door and still been in the room I would have. And they were so relaxed and friendly.My insecurities pinned me to the sidelines. I don’t remember what was said or how the brief meeting went. I was relieved to get back to my office.
An agency—or was it a comedy manager?—Called and asked me to meet a client of his. I asked Elizabeth to join me. Something most casting directors hadn’t asked me to do when I was an assistant. The comic arrived, he was a twenty something “dude” in jeans and a tee. He slouched on the couch. I was curious to see how this young slouchy hipster could be funny. He’d been described as someome who was making a name for himself and on his way up. I made my introductions and then he told a story about waiting for the meeting at the Coffee Bean across the street. He started reciting every flavor of tea they had at the Coffee Bean to the tune of “Incense and Peppermints.” Within minutes he had Elizabeth and me howling. This kid was funny. His name was Jimmy Fallon.
Still not knowing my place in the company I didn’t bring him into Tom and Marcy. I’d have to present him first to the head of the department who didn’t want me going straight to Tom and Marcy and whom I knew would veto him, as he did everyone I liked, such as Tina Fey. He wouldn’t let me pick my own assistant let alone talent. And he was mean about it.Talking down to me as though I didn’t know talent, and I’d worked on the most successful sitcoms in history. He always questioned my taste though his was mediocre. I wanted to bring this Jimmy Fallon directly into Tom and Marcy but I couldn’t—or I didn’t have the balls to override my boss. Anyway he went on to become the Jimmy Fallon we all know.
As the day wound down I called Julia, I’m going to get home a little late, “I have to pick up some things at CVS” I told her.
“How long will you be?” She asked.
“Not long.” I lied.
With that I told Elizabeth good-bye and headed for an urgent care I’d seen on Riverside. One of the few I hadn’t been to. It was somewhat full, which I dreaded. I couldn’t tell how long the wait would be and now the four Vicodin I’d taken in the morning were wearing off. I was starting to sweat and my stomach was cramping up. I needed to see a doctor fast. A famous TV personality who’d been very open about his struggle with OCD was at triage. I immediately became mad at him. I’d decided that he was a hypochondriac holding up the line. He could have been there for any reason. He could have been genuinely sick, but that’s how my mind worked: if he had OCD I imagined him having a host of other psychosomatic illnesses. My father had imaginary illnesses and I saw it as weakness in men. It was a problem I’d had with my father and all his illnessess.I detested weak men and I could have been completely wrong about the TV personality. I was wrong about my father whom,sick or not, was one of the most talented and prolific men I knew. I was horrendously self-centered.
It took a long time to be seen, but finally I was taken back to see the doctor. I told the doctor of my extreme back pain brought on by a cough (this had actually happened to me once). He examined me but short of a myriad of tests there was no way to prove I wasn’t in pain. The doc gave me some tips on what to do: ice, heat, hot showers. Then I timidly and with a histrionically painful expression asked him for pain medication.
“Okay I’ll give you a prescription for 20 Vics.” Hardly a king’s ransom,but I’d take what I could get.
“Be careful people get addicted to these.” He warned.
“Oh I will. I just need them for my back.” I said earnestly.
I left the urgent care and ran to CVS where I faced another long line. I’d run out of my ability to withstand waiting to get my drugs, but again there was nothing I could do. Also just being in the pharmacy calmed me down. I knew relief was coming and the medicinal smell of the pharmacy acted as an anodyne. I happily chatted with all the people on line. When I was on Vicodin, or about to get them, I was very hyped up and chatty. I’d keep friends on the telephone without letting them get a word in. Now that I work in the recovery field I recognize this chattiness when people call in for detox and it drives me crazy.I see too much of myself in them. It takes forever to take down simple information from them.
Finally my name was called and I went up and got my pills. I walked over to the drink section and grabbed a Diet Coke. I downed ten of the pills with no thought of how quickly I’d run out of them if I took them in ten pill increments. The prescription that was meant to last a week would last two days. I’d worry about it tomorrow.
I was Miss Cheerybeerybee when I got home to Julia. As I opened the door she said,
“I want you to see what I’ve done.” Before even “Hello.”
I know longer cared if she re-organized the apartment to look like a bowling alley.
“Okay but let me put my things down and get settled.”
“No come look”
Julia hadn’t done anything to the apartment but she took me upstairs where she’d organized my closet to perfection. Shirts and dresses were arranged by color; dress clothes were in one section; my shoes were organized; and my jeans were arranged by brand. It looked like a show room.
“I Love it!” I cried.
This was julia, always doing things to please me. If she suffered from my treatment of her or suspected my drug use, she bore her cross nobly like a pet does when he’s sick, with profound acceptance turning inward.
You had way more intuition about talent than your not so nice Boss.
Wow! Your addiction was frightening. Just a exhausting hamster wheel you were on. I’m sorry you had that pressure along with a terrible Disease you were fighting! The part about Jimmy Fallon is really funny. It’s strange bcs although tragic, there’s a lot of humor about your life story.
Cara, I’m always tempted to click on like when I finish reading another chapter but I feel it would be liking your addiction which of course I don’t. I really enjoy your honesty and your ability to recall so much of your life while addicted. I’m proud of you and your journey and current sobriety. One of my son’s was addicted to alcohol for a short time and was able to stop cold turkey after a troubling incident. I also have a very close lifelong friend who kicked a very extensive cocaine addiction and has truly prospered in life. Congratulations
As always, looking forward to your next installment.
❤️Stan(Lear 75)