I was so nervous, and I don’t think I really took the time to savor every moment. I wish I had taken more time to get to know Oprah and others at the party. I was so proud of myself for speaking in front of such a big crowd of people. It was the first speech I had ever given.
I was so relieved when it was over that I had forgotten that I hadn’t eaten dinner, and when offered a glass of Champagne, I took it with gusto. I downed it within seconds. The bubbles tickled my nose and throat as I swallowed, but it was so good. Little desserts were being passed out on trays, and I took one every time the tray passed. I also had another glass of white wine. I’m pretty sure I had another glass of Champagne, too, as the night wore on. I was very relaxed by this point and feeling pretty good. Later that night, we decided to walk and get some pizza. We plotted a course and trudged along the streets of New York to the pizza joint. I forgot to be afraid of the city. After about an hour walking, we pretty much gave up hope that we would ever find the pizza place we were looking for and settled for the one we found around the next corner. Yum, so good. We also got a bottle of wine to take back to the room. Everyone went to bed except for my sister and me, and we ended up sharing the entire bottle of wine, plus we ordered a chocolate sundae from room service. Yes, it was past midnight, but we were celebrating.
I think I passed out on the couch sometime during the night. I don’t know how I made it to my room upstairs, but that’s where I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache! I could barely move. The pounding in my head was so intense I thought somebody had taken a hammer to it. My eyes felt gritty and hard to open. I’m stubborn sometimes. So when Rebecca called and asked if I wanted to go out and find a Starbucks, I said yes. We planned to meet at her room and go from there.
Getting dressed was a disaster. I had two different socks, and I’m pretty sure my shoes didn’t match either. I left the sanctuary of my hotel room and plotted my route to her hotel room. She was located in the fifteenth floor in another tower of the massive hotel we were in, so I had to get in the elevator and navigate across the lobby to the other set of elevators that would take me to her floor. I don’t know how I made it to the first elevator. It’s kind of a blur. Crossing the lobby, all I could think of was, stand up straight. I was just waiting for someone to point and shout, “Hey, look, is that Jaycee Lee Dugard with a massive hangover?”
Getting into the second elevator felt like a victory. Albeit a short-lived one. I felt like even though the light was blinding and my headache was throbbing, I could do this. I could make it. That darn elevator had other ideas for me and hurtled as fast as it possibly could and stopped at every other floor. As I watched the numbers go from 5 to 8 and stop. Oh no, people! As they entered the elevator with me, I told myself to “act cool” and not show how bad I really felt.
Up, up to 10. Ding, stop, the people got off. Whew! Up, up I went to the fifteenth floor finally. I swayed as I walked down the corridor. I felt like I was going to be sick. Keep walking, I told myself. I finally made it to room 1509. I knocked. I hear Rebecca reply, “Just a minute I’m in the bathroom.” I knock again, louder this time. She shouts, “I’m coming.” She opens the door, and I barrel and push right past her to the open door of the bathroom. I slammed the door and landed face first in the holy bowl of the toilet. I was very, very sick. After that, all I wanted at this point was my bed. Rebecca asked if I was okay. Nope, I was not. There would be no Starbucks for me. I asked if she could take me back to my room.
Off we went back into the hall. Not two steps from the door, and I had to throw up again, but she had already closed the door. We spotted a maid cart. Thank goodness! I headed over and grabbed a bag. I told Rebecca I couldn’t possibly get back into that horrible elevator. I was convinced it wanted to kill me. She suggested the stairs, which seemed like a better option to me at the time. Every step was excruciating. My head was spinning round and round. We finally made it to the bottom, but it wasn’t the lobby like I thought it would be. It was some kind of weird part of the hotel. Like behind the scenes. Were we lost? Yes, we were. Rebecca asked a passing bellman how to get to the lobby. He directed us to yet another elevator! I didn’t think I could do the stairs anymore, and so taking the elevator seemed like our only option.
Sweat was dripping down my face from trying to act cool just in case someone came into the elevator with us. We finally arrived on my floor. I rushed to the door. My sister was there, bless her thoughtful heart, already holding it open for me, Rebecca had called and told them my, ah . . . situation. I was so relieved to be back in my hotel room I didn’t care who knew.
We were supposed to go sightseeing that day, but I couldn’t even think about that anymore. No bus rides for me. I really wanted to rest so I could at least go to the play Wicked on Broadway that we had gotten tickets to see that night. I didn’t want to miss my first Broadway show! I told everyone to go sightseeing without me.
Shayna and Garrett, her boyfriend at the time (who later became her husband, but that’s another chapter), were so nice. They went to the drugstore and got me something for my head and a bagel with cream cheese. I couldn’t even think about food, but it was very sweet and I appreciated it. The bread actually helped my tummy to feel better. I spent part of the day on the bathroom floor because it felt cool. I was completely unable to get up. Such an embarrassing day for me. I don’t know why I felt embarrassed. I just did. I like to be in control of myself, and I had no idea that mixing Champagne, wine, and sugar would cost me so much. Lesson learned the hard way.
You would think I would stay away from alcohol after that, but although I stayed away from it for a very long time, it did eventually creep back into my life in the form of mint mojitos! Nectar of the gods. I love the refreshing taste of citrus and mint. Best of all, it didn’t give me a hangover the next morning. I pretty much stick with these. Drinking is okay, but in moderation for sure.
Me, Jessica Alba, and Diane at the DvF Awards in New York.
Meeting Diane Sawyer in New York.
Walk the Plank
* * *
You wouldn’t think walking could give you nightmares. Well, I sure had some nightmarish dreams about walking after I was kidnapped. For a while I had this dream about having to “walk the plank.” In the dream I would start up the hill from my house in South Lake Tahoe. It would always be perfectly sunny, not a cloud in the sky in this recurring dream, and I would have on the same outfit I was taken in. Pink stretch pants and white T-shirt with a kitty on it. My favorite outfit, actually; how ironic. Phillip burned all my clothes, so I never saw that outfit again except in this dream/nightmare.
All of a sudden I would be blindfolded but still walking up the hill. I kept walking and walking and walking all the while with no sight whatsoever. Total blackness even though I knew it was sunny out. I could feel myself start to panic, but there was nothing I could do. All of a sudden, there was no more road and I could feel myself falling in midair just as if I had stepped off a plank. I would always wake up as I felt myself hit water and start to sink.
I haven’t had this dream in years. I was afraid to walk places by myself when I was first recovered. During the building of the court case against Phillip and Nancy Garrido, and before the trial phase, I was asked to go up to Tahoe and review for the police and prosecutors exactly how I was kidnapped by Phillip and Nancy on June 10th, 1991. Rebecca came with me on this trip, and I’m so glad I had her support.
I think walking that hill was actually cathartic for me, even though I thought it would be traumatic. Facing my fears and knowing that I could walk the same path and nothing bad would happen was good for me. That’s also when Rebecca figured out my obsession with pinecones and why I would ask friends to bring me one from places they would visit. It happened like this: I was sitting in the car talking about that day, Rebecca runs over with a pinecone and says, “Look! This was in the place he grabbed you! Duh, no wonder you want pinecones. It must have been the last thing you touched before Phillip pulled you int
o the car!” After that, my obsession made so much more sense and turned into a very powerful symbol of new beginnings for me.
Months into my recovery process, I had my first solo walk. It wasn’t even really planned. The principal of my youngest daughter’s school asked to meet with me, and since the school was just a few blocks away, I decided to walk. Rebecca called on my way there, and I told her I was walking and on my way to meet with the principal. She seemed a bit awed on the phone, and I didn’t really know why. She said she would see me soon and hung up.
I really honestly wasn’t thinking much about anything during the walk until I reached the halfway point. And that’s when it hit me! Wow, look at me! I’m walking the neighborhood by myself. I finally understood why Rebecca sounded like that on the phone. As I started my way down the street that would bring me to the school, I could see two people waiting for me. I admit I was a little embarrassed at first. I was so proud of myself, though, and couldn’t stop the smile on my face no matter how much I tried to look cool and casual.
Rebecca had filled in the principal of the school, who knew me and my story and was taking such good care of my daughter in his school. I think he felt honored to be there for my maiden voyage. As I got nearer, I could see them smiling, too, and that made me feel so good. I made it. And I knew I could do it again . . . and I have.
Later, Rebecca told me that they got a little worried when they saw a highway patrol car coming down the street. Just as they started to wonder where I was, there I was. I had just turned the corner as the patrol car passed.
Early into my recovery, I still had my entourage following me: FBI agents, victim advocates, etc. One day that sticks out in my mind started out in Rebecca’s office for a therapy session, but I was just feeling restless. Rebecca picked up on it and suggested a walk up a nearby road that had a steep incline. I was intrigued and thought it sounded great. As we all piled into the black SUVs with the tinted windows, the plan was Rebecca and I would walk a little ahead so we could talk on the way up, and the FBI and victim advocates would stay behind us to give me privacy.
The walk was hard. And my thighs and calves started to burn quickly. But the burn felt good and talking about the past became easier as we walked side by side. The beautiful view helped when I talked about the really awful parts Phillip made me do. I was really out of breath, and talking was getting harder. By the time we reached the top with not a soul in sight, I realized I had talked almost the whole way up. I was out of breath and huffing and puffing, but I felt clean and refreshed.
Rebecca showed me the ritual of touching the silver plaque on the tree at the top. That little ritual has stayed with me every time I make the climb to the top. On our way down, we realized that the others had not made it even halfway up as we came down. I remember sleeping really well that night. To this day, exercise is important to me. I love to eat, too, so dieting is not really an option for me, and I’d rather exercise than restrict my diet, so I will probably never be model thin, but that suits me just fine as long as I am in shape. Exercise releases endorphins, which make you feel good and oftentimes enhance your outlook on life in general. Exercise has helped me cope with stress and ward off depression when it comes. I never want to be that person I was in the backyard that hardly ever moved. Granted, that was not a choice that was mine to make. I was a prisoner.
My mind feels more alert when I move and exert myself, and the outlook on the day is improved. When I don’t exercise, I feel it. Especially around the holidays when I tend to overeat and not make an effort to exercise, and once you stop, it’s hard to get back to a routine. When I’m a log on the couch all day, my legs get all crampy and seem to say, Hey get up and move, girl!
I went out of my comfort zone for a while and decided to get a gym membership. I usually do not like to feel like I’m being watched in any way whatsoever. I was really opposed to exercising where people I did not know could see me. I get embarrassed easily.
The decision to join came about when my oldest daughter wanted to join. She had been on the cross-country team at her school and loved the feeling exercise gave her. I thought it would be a fun thing to do together and would help me overcome my shyness, which I wanted to get over. I think age helps with this fear because when I was little, I had it really bad. It was hard to make friends, and my friends ended up coming to me, not the other way around. I was always too scared. Being older, I have noticed that this has changed a lot. Not so much when I was a captive but being around Rebecca and seeing her confidence has helped me grow. And so I joined the gym. And you know what else? I went to Zumba classes. Yep, that’s right. I tried to rhumba and samba my way to fitness, ladies and gentlemen. The worst part was I could tell I was really bad at it from the gigantic mirror in front of me. But it was fun, and I realized no one was staring at me . . . like at all. Nope. And do you know why? Because they were looking at themselves in that big ol’ gigantic mirror that shows everything!
I really liked taking those classes in the gym, and I kept it up for about six months. Then I realized I enjoyed hiking and working out with my friends better. I was very proud of myself for trying it out, though. It helped a whole lot in my confidence to try new things and not to care what I looked like. Also because I was doing something great for me. And that felt good.
I recommend finding a buddy to keep you motivated. When my best friend, Jessie, comes to visit, we try to do something active, and to this day I still take many hikes and exercise with my mentor, Rebecca. My sister got me a Fitbit for Christmas and I love it. It tends to really motivate me to meet my step goal. If I see that I haven’t quite reached it at the end of the day, I will get on the elliptical. Which I would not have thought to do before. It’s something about the feeling of accomplishing something that feels so good. And I find I sleep better, too.
Don’t Judge
* * *
After receiving my first horse, I really wanted another one for my daughters to ride. That was the plan anyway, but it didn’t quite happen like I thought it would. Instead, another horse came into my life and taught me about love.
His name was Ed and he had only one eye. The other was lost to a tumor. He was a beautiful red Arabian, and I loved him the first day I laid my two eyes on him. I found him in the local paper for sale and asked Rebecca if she would go with me to check him out.
We arrived at the address and were surprised that the horse and his companion, an aged pony, were living quite literally in someone’s backyard. I did get some flashbacks of being captive in Phillip’s backyard. This was a very small yard for a horse. The owner had had them for her kids, but they had grown and so the horses were just there living out the rest of their lives with no place to wander free. She wanted something better for them and so had opted to sell them both. I didn’t realize that they were a package deal until that moment. The thought of two new horses was a little overwhelming.
Ed was a pretty old guy, I learned, but as sweet as can be. I was still kind of afraid of the size of horses back then and didn’t just get on any that I didn’t know. But for some reason, Ed exuded trust from his whole being and I must have felt that. When the owner asked if I would like to ride him, I said I would. I walked around on Ed in that backyard and thought of all the reasons why this was a bad idea: You are older than I thought you were, I thought to myself. You come with an old pony. The pony is thirty-eight years old. You are no spring chicken yourself at the age of twenty-five. I was looking for a horse my daughters could ride, but you have only one eye. Margie, my horse trainer, will kill me for bringing you home. She will think I’ve gone insane. The list was piling up in my head. There were many reasons why I shouldn’t have wanted him.
I decided to sleep on my decision to bring him home. That night, I had a dream that Ed was already mine and living with me. It felt so right that I couldn’t ignore the feeling of rightness with him. So the next morning my decision was made, and Ed and his longtime companion, a pony we named Dusty, came home to my barn to live
with Cowboy.
I have never regretted my decision to bring a one-eyed horse home. Dusty, unfortunately, did not live very long, only a year with us. His passing was traumatic. He didn’t have many teeth left and was prone to choke. One day the choke got really bad and he also colicked. Colic is a term used to describe many stomach issues with horses. The vet told me Dusty’s insides were all twisted up. It was the first time I had to make the decision to let a horse pass. Seeing Dusty suffer was so hard, and I knew that it was time. I like to think he loved his time here with us.
Years later, losing Ed to colic was an even harder moment to face. I had grown to love Ed so much over the years. He was so much a part of barn life for everyone.
He was a very stoic guy, and I didn’t know that he was in pain until the very last moments of his life. Some choices I would rather not have to make. One of those decisions is whether your horse is in so much pain that it is better to end his life. I had made the decision with Dusty and now I faced it again. Making the decision to end Ed’s life was like sticking a knife through my heart and pulling it out while it was still beating. I don’t want to remember that pain, but it still shows up and it’s hard to fight the tears.
One time Rebecca’s horse, Freesia, colicked. I am usually cool under pressure, and I have never passed out in my life unless under extreme stress. It had only been a few months since the traumatic death of my beloved Ed, so when I saw Freesia lying on the ground rolling, it reminded me so much of Ed. I felt like I would pass out from seeing her lying there. Luckily, she was a lot younger and we were able to pull her through the colic.
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