The drug group was pretty informal. We met on the couch just outside the girls’ bathroom, and there was no real lesson plan or agenda. An adviser named Holly led the session. I had never really interacted with her except in the occasional group.
“So, you guys only have about two months left,” she said. “Who still thinks about drinking and doing drugs?”
No one answered. We were all afraid that any admission would be used against us. We were so close to the finish line—what if they were looking for a reason to hold us back?
“I understand your hesitation,” Holly said. “But it’s totally normal to have those urges. Temptation is everywhere. And if you want to resist that temptation, the first step is to be honest with yourself.”
“I still think about it sometimes,” Charlotte said.
She got it immediately. The right answer was to admit it; otherwise, we’d only be accused of being in denial.
“Yeah,” Conrad said, “I definitely have those old urges.”
“I want to go over a few tools with you now,” Holly said. “If you’ve got an action plan in place, it will be much easier to resist that temptation when it appears.”
She handed out notebooks and pens.
“First, look around this group and pick a few people to check in with daily. I want you to hold one another accountable and use your workshop tools. That’s how you’re going to succeed out there.”
Yeah, right. Like I’m going to make honor lists when I get out of here.
“Now I want you to close your eyes,” Holly said. “Imagine your life three months from now. Then six months from now. Then go a year into the future.”
I saw my old school, flashes of people like Jenna and Nick. I could form a hazy picture of the next six months. But after that my mind was a total blank.
“Can you imagine a life for yourself where you don’t go back to those old, destructive ways?”
“I’d like to try,” Brittany said.
“Trying is good,” Holly said. “But it might not be enough. I want you to remember your workshop tools. Remember your truth from Integritas and your keys from Teneo. Take them with you wherever you go.”
I had a feeling that would not be happening.
“Okay, turn to a fresh page. I want you each to list at least five potential triggers.”
Holly watched us as we wrote in our notebooks.
“I want you to come out of here with a clear sense of who and what to avoid,” she said.
I looked down at my list. It was full of lies. I couldn’t write what I wanted to, the thing I already suspected would prove to be true.
My trigger is Carlbrook.
The group never met again. Our drug-and-alcohol program took up all of one afternoon. Clearly, they never cared much about our action plans in the first place.
Chapter 35
I HAD JUST one workshop left: Veneratio. Since it was our last, they really made the most of it. Veneratio was five days long. Five days of little to no sleep after long hours spent crying. Five days of cold cuts. Five days of checking in with my assigned buddy, Lindy, who had already started asking me if I was okay.
I actually was doing just fine. In fact, I was a little excited. Five days was nothing as long as it meant I’d never have to go through another therapeutic workshop ever again.
The night before Veneratio, I slept like a baby all night long.
You are what you do, not what you say you do.
—attributed to Carl Jung;
used as a workshop tool in Integritas
Veneratio turned out to be something of a workshop retrospective. The first few days were spent recapping them all, Integritas through Teneo. Each one had its highlight reel. For Integritas, I was reminded of my lie, “worthless abuser,” as if I’d ever forget. Next up was Amicitia, signaled by the Doors’ “Break on Through (To the Other Side).” We needed to learn once again that running toward a circle of our peers at full speed was the definition of being a “good friend.” Since we were already on our feet, why not jump straight into Animus’s Fight Night?
Elizabeth “Fights the Good Fight” Gilpin strikes again, and this time she’s going for the knockout. Will she take a win for Team Life? Or will it be a Team Death victory once again?
We were still fighting to stay alive and all, but now we had our tools for success. Because of Carlbrook, there was a chance we’d go on to lead long and prosperous lives. That meant writing a new, more positive obituary as well.
Elizabeth Gilpin died of old age after a fulfilling life. There was a point when she didn't think she was going to make it. But she found hope and got her spot on the lifeboat. She will be remembered as a positive, strong, and trusting woman.
I thinks; Me feels.
—used as a workshop tool in Teneo
Teneo’s dreaded “I vs. Me” started off day two. We started running in place while Alan yelled insults as he paced across the room. I wasn’t going to let the exercise get to me this time. Both Chelsea and I had the good sense not to be the last two standing.
If it looks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then it probably is a duck.
—used as a workshop tool in Integritas
The next exercise involved bringing in alumni, returned from the real world to tell us all about their awesome lives. I recognized some of them from my pre-Integ days and some I’d never seen before.
“These guys right here,” Alan said, “are what it’s all about. They’re living proof of what can happen if you work hard and use your tools.”
“Hi, I’m Evelyn.”
The girl had dirty blond hair and kept a smile plastered to her face.
“I graduated in May of 2003 and now I go to college in Boston. When I first left here it was hard to adapt. I really missed my Carlbrook family. I relied on them a lot after graduating. I had weekly calls with my adviser and that really helped. I kept my workshop tools in mind whenever I wanted to fall back into old patterns. That was huge, I have to say, and so was keeping in touch with Alan.”
Keeping in touch with Alan? I’m not talking to any of these psychopaths ever again and I’m not calling my peers so we can talk about our workshop tools. And you can bet I’m sure as hell not coming back to tell everyone how great Carlbrook was.
What a piece of work is man!
—Hamlet, Act II, Scene 2;
used as a workshop tool in Animus
Loud music played again as we approached the workshop room on the third day. The lights inside were low. On the floor was a sea of fake drugs, alcohol, porn, and a smattering of other illicit items. A TV was set up at the front of the room. It was like we had entered a legitimate crack house. Finally, after all those months of calling us whores and drug addicts, we were in our natural habitat.
“Come inside, everyone,” Alan said. “Spread out and take a seat on your knees. I want you to sit as open as possible. Arms out and palms up. Open your bodies and your hearts so you can feel this to the fullest extent.”
Even by Carlbrook standards, what happened next was insane. The TV came on and it was cued right up to the ten-minute rape montage from Requiem for a Dream. It was brutal and horrific. Ten minutes of watching a degraded and debased Jennifer Connelly fuck for drugs. I felt my cold cuts start to come back up.
“I want you all to watch this carefully,” Alan said. “This is where your life is headed if you stay on the path you’ve been heading down.”
What the fuck is wrong with you? You’re an actual psychopath, I’m sure of it now.
“You see these items?” Alan pointed to the fake drugs and empty bottles. “Now you get to choose. You can either pick up this stuff and go back to your old life or you can choose to move on with all your workshop tools at your disposal.”
I looked more closely. There were pills and fake powders. Bottles of booze. Razor blades and knives.
“What’s it going to be?” Alan said.
We all sat there, stunned.
�
��Come on, Conrad. You know you want those pills.”
I watched as Conrad made the decision to grab the fake pills.
“Come on, Charlotte. Pick up that tiny leather skirt. Grab that needle.”
She shook her head.
“Go ahead, Elizabeth,” Alan said. “Pick up that booze that you drink at home. Pick up that coke. We know the coke is what you want.”
As usual, the exercise didn’t end until everyone was sobbing, but it was a different feeling that filled the room this time. It was disgust and despair at a level we’d never quite expressed before.
“From this moment on,” Alan said, “the people in this room will be your family and you must hold each other accountable. Use your tools. Remember what you learned here and don’t go back to this dark and ugly place.”
I was never even there in the first place.
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
—Khalil Gibran, The Prophet;
used as a workshop tool in Integritas
The fourth day was a blur of ridiculous, symbolic exercises. For the “baggage hike,” as it was termed, we were each given a large cement block and led in an aimless circle. My arms hurt within seconds, which made sense as I was literally carrying around a block of cement. If it was meant to be a metaphor, it wasn’t working the way Alan intended.
“I want you all to feel how heavy these bricks feel,” he said. “Heavy, right? That’s a lot of extra weight you don’t want to carry around with you. When you hold on to past baggage—to shame or fear or regret—you’re really carrying weights just like these.”
Okay, fine. I’ll put my baggage down now.
“Do you like carrying around this much weight?”
We groaned.
“I can’t hear you,” he said. “Do you like carrying this load around?”
“No!”
A few people dropped their blocks.
“Pick those back up. The exercise isn’t over yet. You’re gonna hold your own baggage for the rest of your life. So I want you to really feel all of that weight now.”
To be or not to be: that is the question.
—Hamlet, Act III, Scene 1;
used as a workshop tool in Teneo
Another metaphor, this time with balloons. Which was better than blocks, but this one just made me want to laugh.
“This balloon is your vice,” Alan said. “Think long and hard…what is that vice? Is it coke? Is it sex? Crack, cutting, video games. I don’t care what it is, just make it ugly.”
My face must have betrayed my thoughts about the exercise.
“Elizabeth, what are you making this balloon?”
Can I make it a balloon?
“It’s smoking pot and drinking,” I said.
“Good. Close your eyes. Imagine your vice, really see it. And let it go.”
Today is the first day of the rest of your life.
—Charles E. Dederich, Synanon founder;
used as a workshop tool in Animus
On the final day of Veneratio, the metaphor went biblical.
We walked in to see a cornucopia of food set up on the floor, along with a tablecloth and candles. I felt like this was a scene taken from the Last Supper. There was an assortment of fruit including pineapples and grapes, along with cheeses and crackers Nelly had been sneaking us for days, which none of us realized were actually for Veneratio.
“Congratulations, peer class Pi,” Alan said. “You did it. This is your Last Supper. A feast for us to share as a family while we think about gratitude.
“Levi, what are you grateful for?”
“I’m grateful my buddy looked out for me,” Levi said. “Thank you, man.”
We went around the circle.
“I’m grateful to have this family I can turn to in the real world.”
“I’m grateful to be done with workshops.”
“I’m also grateful my friends got me through this.”
I’m grateful this fucking place didn’t kill me.
Chapter 36
GRADUATION WAS ONLY a day away and our families were in town for the ceremony. We had one last ridiculous assignment: to pick a friend and switch families for the day. Charlotte and I swapped—she sat down with my family while I sat with hers. I mostly just chatted with her mom about Switzerland. We were supposed to be discussing my “transition plan,” but that wasn’t nearly as exciting as hearing about all the bungee jumping I’d get to do if I visited them next summer.
That night, Charlotte and I hung out in her family’s hotel room while our parents were off meeting with our advisers. We sat with her brother Andrew and watched him drink whiskey. As he got drunker and drunker, he told us about how much fun his own boarding school had been. Meanwhile, Charlotte and I were paranoid that if we somehow got caught just watching Andrew, we wouldn’t get to graduate.
We had to head back to the mods soon anyway. The Carlbrook van picked us up for one last night in the double-wide. Our last night without doors, our last round of bed checks, and like clockwork, the Securitas arrived.
She clicked her pen. “Lights out, girls. You have a big day tomorrow.”
In the morning I got ready in my white dress. It was a floor-length gown from the bridal section of—what else?—J.Crew. I did my hair and swiped on a little bit of makeup. We walked to the dining hall, which was decked out for Christmas. I spotted my parents, and they were all smiles. They seemed proud of me, ready to believe that Carlbrook had worked. If only they knew the truth—of what I’d gone through and what was still to come.
“It’s a beautiful day, and this is such a beautiful group of people,” Alan said from the front of the room. “Look at these young men and women. It’s been a long, hard road for them all. For some, harder than others. You know who you are.” He winked.
Is that supposed to be a joke?
“We’re so proud of you. You’ve made it through this rigorous program and are set up for success. You can now go out and achieve wonderful things. You finished this as a family and it’s as a family you’ll return to the world. I urge you all to really take this moment in.”
He paused for effect.
“Okay, everyone,” Alan said, “I want us all to put our arms around one another. Let’s all sing the Carlbrook anthem.”
Naturally, I hated the Carlbrook anthem. I mumbled quietly instead of singing. When we got to the last verse, I looked at Charlotte and we both started laughing.
Reach high for goals to guide us on our way.
That we might grow in courage day by day.
Keep firm our dreams to always be our best
So we may live in strength and happiness.
With that, it was time to graduate. Alan called out names, and we stood up to get our certificates. Most kids were actually graduating high school, which meant they were getting real diplomas. But since I still had a semester to finish back at home, I would just get a piece of paper saying I’d completed Carlbrook.
Is that even an accomplishment?
I’d gotten through something that had often felt impossible, but it wasn’t like I was proud or anything. There was no room for that when every cell in my body was so full of relief. I had survived. I’d stayed as true to myself as I possibly could, and I hadn’t let the school kill me.
Alan called out names. I clapped along with everyone else.
Charlotte. Maya. Brittany. Levi.
Elizabeth.
I walked up to the podium to receive my certificate. Alan handed it to me and grasped my hand. He looked into my eyes and I just wanted to run. All that relief curdled right back into fear. I didn’t want to celebrate; I wanted to get the fuck out of there before something went wrong and I had to sit in his lap again. I needed to leave as soon as possible just to know I could. To prove that I wasn’t trapped inside the snow globe forever.
As soon as Alan was done, I started to say my good-byes. I hugged Brittany and Charlotte, knowing it was just a temporary f
arewell. I said good-bye to Rose, hoping it was forever. Maya had tears in her eyes as we hugged and said we’d see each other soon. Some of the younger students were crying, too, but it wasn’t just because they were going to miss us. Those were hopeless tears, and I knew the feeling all too well. It was hard to watch kids walk away from Carlbrook knowing you would have to stay. I hugged Lina extra tight, wishing I could take her with me.
“I’m really going to miss you,” I said. “You can do this, okay?”
Tears ran down her cheeks as she watched us all walk away. I hustled my parents off, ready to get the hell out of Virginia. Monica stopped us at the door, going on about how proud she was. I nodded but hardly even registered the words. I needed to be inside my parents’ car immediately. I was just about to slam the door shut when I heard my name.
“Elizabeth. Don’t tell me you’re going to leave without a good-bye.”
It was Nelly. I jumped out and gave her a hug. I couldn’t believe it, but even I had tears in my eyes.
“I’m so proud of you,” she said.
“Thank you, Nelly. For everything.”
I got back inside. My dad turned on the engine and I held my breath as the manicured grounds and the white picket fence receded from view. I didn’t want to exhale until Carlbrook was out of sight completely, until I could finally fill my lungs with untainted air. What was a few extra seconds when I had been holding my breath for what felt like an eternity?
It’s over. I survived. I’ll never have to see my nightmare again.
We made our way through the tiny town. We passed the church where I’d spent those few happy Sundays and the hotel Charlotte and I had been in the previous night. My mother turned to me from the front seat, smiling, and handed me a small gift-wrapped box. Inside was a beautiful gold charm bracelet. It was just like the one my mom had, that I’d always admired. But instead of a charm for each of her children and one for my parents’ wedding date, my bracelet was Carlbrook themed. There were six charms in all: five inscribed with the names of the workshops and one for the date of my graduation.
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