The 3′ o clock break comes and goes and Tarantula did not get his package. I am beginning to wonder if this isn’t going to happen. It is the heroin disappointment all over again. Mail comes Saturday but not Sunday. It looks like if it’s happening it won’t be until Monday. The final session on Friday is only an hour and forty five minutes long. That means that Richard and I only have time to do our hour and a half eyes closed TR. We position our chairs three feet apart and assume the TR position.

“TR0 eyes closed for an hour and a half, start,” Makayla calls out.

I have exhausted Bella’s Lullaby today, so I opt to sing an entire CD worth of music in my head. I can think of no CD more fitting than Linkin Park’s Hybrid Theory. It is one of my favorite albums of all time. The song, Crawling, is one of my favorites and is exactly how I am feeling right now. The lyrics that resonate with me are as follows:

Crawling in my skin

These wounds, they will not heal

Fear is how I fall

Confusing what is real There’s something inside me that pulls beneath the surface

Consuming, confusing

This lack of self control I fear is never ending

Controlling

I can’t seem

To find myself again

My walls are closing in

(Without a sense of confidence I’m convinced

That there’s just too much pressure to take)

I’ve felt this way before

So insecure ——Linkin Park, Crawling, Hybrid Theory

The part about the lack of self control being a never ending fear, relates directly to my desire to continue to abuse drugs, despite knowing the consequences. The idea of literally crawling in my skin because I am deeply hurt with wounds that will not heal, relates to the reminder Vinny has pulled out from beneath my surface of being sexually abused and never being able to get passed that. It’s not something I think about often. It’s not an event that torments my sleep. I don’t obsess over the abuse. The next part of the song is as follows:

Discomfort, endlessly has pulled itself upon me

Distracting, reacting

Against my will I stand beside my own reflection

It’s haunting how I can’t seem To find myself again

My walls are closing in

(Without a sense of confidence I’m convinced

That there’s just too much pressure to take)

I’ve felt this way before

So insecure— Linkin Park, Crawling, Hybrid Theory —Full Lyrics.

The sexual abuse is the discomfort that has constantly distracted me, especially concerning the type of men I have put up with in my life. Standing beside my own reflection against my will, for me translates to looking at the shameful things that I have done. The promiscuity and drug and alcohol abuse. Many of these things being behaviors I do not believe I would have possessed, had I not been sexually abused. Against my will, for me now, is being sober. Being sober, I am forced to see the reflection of myself and face what that looks like. Rather than numbing the pain and blurring my vision.

I am haunted and I realize, I don’t know myself. I don’t know myself at all. I have allowed drugs to completely consume me. I have lost myself in abusive relationships, due to my insecurities. I am haunted by this ghost and continue to be insecure because I haven’t forgiven myself. I can’t. Before I leave Narconon, I need to forgive myself, and the only way I can do that, is through prayer. I am not ready to say that prayer right now, however.

“TR0 eyes closed for an hour and thirty minutes, done. Good job guys,” Makayla calls out.

“Wow. That went quick,” I say.

“It did?” Richard asks.

We both laugh. I guess it went so quick for me because I got lost in my head. Ironically, that is the exact opposite of what the purpose of these TRs are for. We are not supposed to play music in our heads. We are supposed to just, “Be” there comfortably. I am just happy that we have passed and that class is out for the day. Once back at the center, everyone races to the dinner line.

“It would be nice if just once, the guys let the ladies go first,” I suggest.

“Where have you been boo bear. Chivalry is fucking dead! Now get in the kitchen and make me a sandwich,” Bolts replies.

“You’re such an ass,” I laugh.

To my surprise, it is not steak night for graduation. We have a Chinese staff member in the kitchen named Steve. He has prepared a freaking sushi feast. Until now, most of my sushi experience has involved California rolls. However, there is Ahi tuna and other spreads out for us to enjoy.

“This looks amazing,” I confess. “Steve, wow. Did you wrap all these?” I ask.

“I sure did. Enjoy,” he replies.

I have never tried Ahi tuna, but I am not a huge tuna fan. I love fish, but prefer less fishy flavored fish. White fishes, including: Cod, Halibut and Tilapia are my favorites.

“Just try it Liz,” Steve urges.

I worked in a Chinese restaurant for 13 years. I know better than to insult my chef. I grab a few pieces and put it on my plate before preparing my wasabi and soy sauce mix and heading to the table.

“Oh my gawd!” I exclaim. “This is so fucking good. Where have you been all my life?” I ask, as if speaking to my food.

Keisha laughs. “It is pretty good. It is a nice change too.”

“What the fuck is this? Bait! I want steak and shrimp,” Bolts admits.

“Suck it up buttercup,” Hayden interjects.

“I can’t believe how difficult graduations are becoming,” I say.

Tonight Reagan is graduating. However, she is staying here to intern, so we don’t have to say goodbye. It will be a heartfelt graduation. Dominic, Anthony and Rogue will likely have the most to say. They are after all, the meat-head gang.

I really like Rogue. A couple of weeks ago I was upset about how others might perceive me here due to my sexual innuendos and loud, vulgar tongue. She opened up and shared her story. She sympathized with how I was feeling and shared some personal details about her past and program here as a student. Ever since that talk, I have felt connected to her. It also gave me the opportunity to apologize to her about the inappropriate things I said to her boyfriend Anthony on the van, that day I earned the nickname, 2 Chainz. She was very understanding and laughed it off.

After graduation, we race back to the kitchen for dessert. Lately, every Friday dessert has consisted of the same cookies and ice cream cups that we are being served tonight. Hayden and I grab a few extra and stash them in our room. The vans are taking the students to the houses, so we say goodbye to Keisha for the night and go back to the smoking benches by the lodge to meet up with the boys.

“I can’t believe it is almost Thanksgiving,” Hayden confesses.

“Don’t remind me. I wish I had a card to send my daughter,” I admit.

“I thought she has a mailbox on her nightstand that your dad puts mail you pre-made for her in every night after she falls asleep,” Hayden inquires.

“I did, but receiving actual mail would make her day,” I say.

The mailbox Hayden is referring to, is a little aluminum mailbox I got at the craft store. Natty and I decorated it with Disney Princess stickers and her name. When I left for rehab, I told her that her dolls were magic. They are two of the same doll and we agreed I would take one and she would take the other. She named them Hailey and Bailey. We promised to sleep with them and when we really missed each other, to hug them extra tight and whisper in their ear all the things we wanted to say to each other.

I told her that Bailey, the doll I have, was magical and would deliver her note cards in her mailbox. I made a note card for everyday that I would be gone with little messages and stickers on them and my dad puts it her mailbox after she falls asleep and then puts the flag on it up. In the morning checking her mailbox is the first thing she does. When they are running low, I make more and send them addressed to my dad and he hides them. My dad says she runs through the house excited every morning to get her mail.

I really miss my daughter. I call her everyday, but it’s not enough. She always asks me about how Bailey gets back to California after delivering the mail. It is cute how much she believes that these dolls can teleport between California and Washington. I love having this special communication with her. God, I miss her.

“Nigga, when are you getting the package?” Derek asks Tarantula, pulling me out of my head.

“Nigga, I don’t know. She said she sent them,” he replies.

“Nigga, I’m trying to get geeked up off them bars yo,” Ryan chimes in.

He is so fucking adorable. “Geeked up off them bars,” means getting high off the pills. Ryan has his earbud in one ear and is dancing around to MGK. He is so yummy. Curtis Maxwell strolls over and puts a dip in his mouth.

“You want a wad of dip Liz?” He asks.

“Sure,” I answer.

“Bro, what the fuck? You chew?” Ryan asks.

“Not really. I put a dip in from time to time. Gives me a little head rush,” I admit.

Vinny too Skinny approaches our area. Oh gawd. I cannot stand this douche. I just know the boys are going to engage him for their own amusement. I excuse myself and head down to the smoking benches down by the course room. Curtis Maxwell follows.

“Liz, what’s wrong?” He asks.

“Well, don’t say anything but. Never mind,” I respond.

“No, not never mind. Liz, it’s me. What’s up?” He asks.

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?” I ask back.

“Yes. I promise. Tell me,” he replies.

I tell him about the incident that occurred between Vinny and I. I spare no details and elaborate about how creeped out I felt. The word, “Molest,” is so unsettling with me.

“Liz, bro. I have to write this up,” Curtis admits.

“Dude, no. What the fuck? You promised me,” I plead.

“True, but Liz. You can’t sit down next to an ethics officer and tell him that there is a creepy pervert student being unethical and expect them to not follow Narconon policy,” he explains.

We both laugh. I raise my hands up and do air quotes while repeating his term, “Narconon policy.”

“Well I don’t want there to be issues,” I confess. “I don’t want him to know I complained because I wasn’t trying to complain bro. You’re my friend. We talk every night and I thought I could tell you this.”

“You can tell me these things Liz. You can trust me, but you have to understand that if I don’t write this up, I will be out of ethics. I am an ethics officer. You do get that, right?” He asks.

“Yes. I get it,” I reply. “Note to self, do not make friends with ethics officers.”

“Are you mad?” He asks.

“No. I just don’t want there to be trouble because I confided in you about this incident,” I respond.

“Don’t worry. Everything will be fine,” he assures me.

I don’t feel like hanging out with the boys. After analyzing myself during my TR and reliving last night’s scenario, I want to go to my room and hang out alone. I lay down on my bed, plug my earbuds in and play Linkin Park. The song, Crawling, is playing on repeat. I’m screaming inside….

Today’s Theme Song- Crawling- Linkin Park

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**If you are a former student of Narconon that didn’t go through the program with me, or a family member of one of my Narconon friends and have discovered this series though my friends sharing it on their pages and want to add me on my personal Facebook page so you don’t miss a post to the series, feel free! Shoot me a message, so I know who you are!**

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2 New Castle men found with 575 bags of heroin, handguns

**DISCLAIMER: This is my personal experience at a Narconon Rehabilitation Center. This is not an expose or journalistic documentation. It is not meant to bash the program in any way, or suggest that it is the only rehab facility that works for recovery. I have been clean and sober since 09-27-13 and attribute much of that success to this program. All of the names in this series have been changed to protect the identity of my friends and sober family’s privacy! Thank you for reading!**