LOVE LANDED ME IN REHAB! SEX, LOVE, HEARTBREAK, & CONFESSIONALS OF A (SEMI-RETIRED) GROUPIE TURNED INDUSTRY INSIDER

There's a certain kind of silence that only exists at the end of a show. When the ground shaking bass of the speakers finally stops and your left with the remaining echoes of your thoughts and ringing ears. When the lights come up and you're suddenly met with a clearer view of the faces of those who you've just spent the past few remaining hours within a sacred space. When your eyeliner's left smeared from the sweat and humidity due to the sea of bodies pressed against each other, lips dried after the copious amounts of drinks and cups marked with kiss stains that now litter the floor. It was always something so addicting about the absence of feeling that followed. Or rather, the addiction that I sought to keep chasing the feeling of adrenaline that came before it. To fill the remnants of the void from those fleeting, temporary moments that gave me a semblance of peace and comfort, that allowed me to feel for once that everything in my life was actually okay -- at least for that moment. Among some of those chases were consisting of the infamous lifestyle of "sex, drugs, and rock n roll." Heavy emphasis on the sex and drugs. But that's the thing about being in the music scene -- you mistake those feelings of faux fulfillment with the toxic need for validation, for attention, for chaos...even for love.

I have had many -- and I mean MANY a stint with the opposite sex that don't always go as planned. Coming into the music scene at the age of 14, I'd had only one experience with my then-on-again-off-again high school boyfriend of 6 exceedingly unnecessary years at the time that ended in infidelity. I knew nothing about relationships or sex albeit boys like I do now and could never relate to my social circle who had been facing heartbreaks since elementary. At a time where I did get into that "exclusive" juvenile relationship, I could've cared less about being gung-ho in the presence of a male anyways. That is, unless I saw them presented onscreen through the music I would indulge in, the media I'd consume. The men in the bands became my solace in a time of desperate adolescent need where I'd finally find my pain turning into pleasure through their lyrics and their philosophies. I became fascinated watching and observing their ability to control a crowd like a cult leader directing their followers. To see these men so vulnerable, baring their souls into their art when they felt words weren't strictly enough allowed me to let my guard down and feel that for once I was being seen -- and seen in a way that didn't make me feel totally crazy, that they were bold enough to talk about the dirty and gritty experiences of life that we're often told to keep hidden -- especially in a world of patriarchy. It was something about the sensitivity of both the artist and the art that kept me coming back. It felt like they were speaking to me. And now, here I am, a decade later in the game experiencing the reality of it for myself. No one ever said it was all that it was cracked up to be. The distinct Xs on my hands eventually turned into wristbands, backstage passes, press badges, and greenrooms. I went from being the girl leaning as close as possible to the barricade in a hypnotizing trance watching her favorite band at work, to gradually getting up close and personal with them through my work, rubbing elbows with musicians and others I would've never imagined. My late-night curfews after shows became the early hours of the morning, socializing in some random's living room 'til 7am and hanging out in hotels with artists and their manager doing ungodly things that would make a nun shudder and faint. In an even more shocking turn of events, I traded my fascination and devotion towards the rockstars I wanted so very badly, into a humbling reality check for how the men and relationships ACTUALLY operate -- especially in this industry.

"GOOD GIRLS GO TO HEAVEN...BUT BAD GIRLZ GO BACKSTAGE"

Don't get me wrong, I'd say I've grown a good amount over time but then again there's never a certain stage in your life where you just "stop" your personal growth. With the extensive help of treatment via individual therapy, extensive outpatients, guidance from my sponsor, and AA/NA meetings, I've been slowly maneuvering my way to understand why I act the way I act both towards myself and towards external relationships, continuing to learn how to forgive myself and others for any wrongdoings that've occurred, and how to proceed going forward. Despite the endless amount of help I've been receiving; I can't help but feel deep down I know I'll always be that same awestruck girl of my youth constantly looking at that tricky smoke and mirrors through rose colored glasses. I mean, look, after all this time, I've still managed to get into the same rooms...the only difference is the entrance. And I'm proud of that. I've done a hell of a good job even getting this far. I've seen it all unfold from the inside looking out. The good and the bad -- the failures of some that have the potential to achieve the success of others, the reaping of rewards after the countless sleepless nights and endless amount of work that's been put into their craft -- the clashing of egos and holier than thou, performative acts to discreetly humble one another, the genuine connections that've turned into my chosen family when I least expected it -- the self-destructive tendencies that're encouraged all too heavily from one another, the ones that uplift you in return to ensure that you're safely taken care of and will keep you in check because they have so much love for you -- the addictions, the swallowing back tears from mental pressure and emotional pain, the forced smiles you have to front because everyone knows EVERYONE in this scene and industry and you don't wanna come off a complete, total bitch because of an incident that might've occurred just seconds before -- the consolations of reassurance you may garner because in this industry, you have to come to the sudden and unfortunate realization that not everyone will have their best intentions at heart whether you like it or not but the ones that do, will become the most life changing figures you could ever ask for in your entire life.

The question remaining that I often get asked is, "well...why do you stay?" And I can't help but respond airily..."Because I love it." Truly, I live for it. Not only do I get to do what I love in media and encapsulate myself in the music and people that I have such a deep attachment to, but the chaos is comforting when dysfunction is what you know best. Unfortunately, though, the romancing I've picked up within the scene aren't always the best either. There's this unspoken rule between the artist and the women that linger around his orbit. He gets to be the tortured, poetic genius of the masterful arts while she becomes the beauty of his shadows, witnessing it all unravel. The muse, the confidant, the lover, the Madonna -- "The Groupie." Truthfully, we're both playing similar parts...except one of us gets the credit and the other is reduced to "that girl backstage." I used to romanticize those "Rockstar Girlfriends," Groupie turned "Rockstar Wife" lifestyles. They always seemed so glamorous to me, so fast paced and stylish. Be honest, you have too! Sid Vicious and Nancy Spungen were my Mary & Joseph at one point. Mick and Bianca Jagger, my Ruth and Boaz -- though I liked Mick with Marsha Hunt much more. Kate Moss hanging out the window cigarette in hand with a strung-out Pete Doherty strumming his acoustic guitar out a window? Lenny Kravitz's bohemian temporal love story with Lisa Bonet? Alexa Chung's iconic Indie-Tweed fashioned union with Alex Turner? Devon Lee Carlson's long reigning 2nd wave Indie revival tenure with Jesse Rutherford? Pam Anderson's involvement with Tommy Lee and Nikki Sixx's disorderly drug-induced engagement with Vanity? Those were my renditions of the Twelve (more like Fourteen) Disciples. Hell, Pamela Des Barres practically became my Mary Magdalene! But being a groupie is so much more than the perception of someone's "bed wench" or just another chick on the side. Groupies are the invocations of so many crazy ass movements -- we move fashion, we move music, we move literature, we move film and photography. We move history as a whole! Pick any artist from your top 10 favorites and I guarantee you I'll be able to list a woman of whom inspired their craft. Of all the art in the world, you think a feminine figure hasn't become the center of it at some point in time? Puh-LEASE! And still, everyone takes us as either an aesthetic to be dabbled in and thrown away when they find something new or simply see us as the bottom of the barrel in society; social climbers, trophy wives, bimbos, gold diggers, porn stars, you name it. We've heard it. But you get used to it eventually. The piercing stares and seething whispers can only cause but so much harm to the mental. Trust me when I say, it's not only men that trash you for who you are. Women can be 10x crueler with their gossip alone -- and don't let them have connections in the scene themselves. There are too many instances to count where I've felt like I had to back down from a fight and keep the peace in order to maintain my connections and my role backstage. A lot of times, I could never figure out where the random animosity was coming from.... jealousy? Relationship problems? Insecurity? Or was I actually in the wrong? People have no problem taking your niceness and passivity for granted. I've honestly learned that shrinking yourself in order to "get what you want" is the absolute worst way to go about things. Not only does it not get you anywhere in this industry but trying to appease any and every one can become an extreme manipulation tactic. You're lowballing yourself pretending to be this chameleon of different traits and characters that you think everyone will love when you don't realize in actuality that you're becoming a big fucking phony! And nobody likes a liar, believe me. You're better off staying true to who YOU are and just let those that cherish those parts of you gravitate towards you -- create your OWN chosen family, as I always say. If this is you, I need you to just think to yourself for just a moment; with how much people pleasing you actually do, how many people are really pleased with you?

THE AFTERPARTY DAZE

When you're much younger, much naiver, you fantasize that being so close in proximity to creative geniuses would rub off on you, that you too would be recognized in the same rite for your ideas and goals and ambitions as quickly and as justifiably as the person who's in the actual spotlight. It is with great regard that I must inform you, that is not always how it turns out to be. You can't always mistake being with the right people for being known. In fact, it's all transactional. In my and various women's stories I've come across, the industry doesn't take too kindly to women who know who they are. They want us to embrace the archetype of "the cool girl," the girl who sits in the corner not saying a word unless she's agreeable with what you say, smoking her cigarettes and sipping her drink with a seductive look on her face that screams "come to me. I'm waiting." They want the girl to parade around for show as we all gawk at her like a shiny trophy. They want the inspiration she brings to them but not the depth she has to offer herself. NEWS FUCKING FLASH! This isn't Scott Pilgrim and I'm NOT some Ramona Flowers. We're not fucking sidekicks -- we're women behind the greatest artistic visions you've ever seen. We're quite literally your favorite artist's favorite artist. We know it and for the most part, they know it too. The second you've had enough of being overshadowed and unheard -- they want to keep you hidden. They call you bitter, unhinged, psychotic, delusional. All to make you feel like the possible is impossible. And not just in life, but in love too.

And I used to play that up real well during my "Afterparty years." There comes a point in your twenties where almost every night feels like an afterparty, one right after the other. You replay the conversations, people, songs, cities that cease to exist in the very moment you're in out of nostalgia and the craving for more. In hindsight, it wasn't always the drinking or the drugs or even solely the men that kept me out. It was that deafening silence I couldn't stand when I reached my bed after it all. Afterparties weren't built for just a continuance of a celebration, and anyone who says otherwise is incredibly convincing in lying to themselves. All it was, was an avoidance tactic to prevent the comedown from reaching all too soon, to prevent having to disappear into obscurity after all is said and done until you get that call to come back out again. I had built my entire identity around being "seen," and I couldn't stand the idea that once it was over, I had to be faced with only myself again...the terrifying fear that no one was "there" for me anymore. Would I call it attention-seeking? Not necessarily. More like...trying to find comfort in others when I couldn't find it in myself. And as a groupie, I can tell you first hand neither of those concepts should coexist within the same realm. The men in the scene aren't looking for stability -- their whole life is already unmanageable, why would they need to bring in a woman to screw up what they already know and love best?! Despite having a logical viewpoint on the matter, that's never stopped me from having heaps amount of crushes on a few of these guys. Listen, I'm still human! I'm a woman for gods sake it's bound to come about! My best friend and media partner, Monica, had to remind me of this when I expressed my exasperation for wanting to remain professional while holding in my attraction to a recent DJ we've just shot. And god, was I fawning over him badly --hopefully not noticeably. When you're taking up close shots, making casual conversation and bonding over artists you BOTH listen to and then proceed to post said artists on his story the next day, and repost MY STORY FEATURING HIM, you'd be the same way! It didn't help when he complimented us going ham during his set backstage and reminisced on the last time we'd seen him that fed my increasing delusions either. Really though, there've been many attempts and many MANY stories where I've had my hands in flirtation with DJs or band members but have never gotten any further. To tell you the truth, the men I HAVE been with actually tend to have no part in my world or scene. I know, shocking right?!

"LET'S SPEND THE NIGHT TOGETHER!"

The men I've had emotional and intimate ties with actually have no idea who I truly am and what lies beneath the surface. They don't understand the complexities of my field, my passions, why I've done what I've done, why I continue to do what I do, and that there's so much more to me than just a lay or looks. Or maybe they do and they refuse to express it? Sometimes, I just wanna grab each and every one of 'em by the neck, wrangle them, and say, " Do you really make me out to be the type of woman that still concerns herself with unfulfilling, casual hookups and false promises?! How long do I have to put up this façade of pretending like I feel absolutely nothing about what we've been through just for you to feel comfortable enough to continue our ongoing relationship?! To not appear too 'clingy,' too 'overly emotional,' to prevent from being told it's 'Not that deep?!' Why can't you just learn how to communicate and stop leaving me hanging out to dry -- why can't you just outright say how you really feel about me?! You only want to see and deal with me when it's convenient. Why do I have to upkeep your perception as the fantastical dream girl version of myself for your hidden pleasures, why can't you come to an understanding of who I really am and accept me for the TRUE versions of myself?! Am I really thinking too deeply into this or are you not thinking deeply enough?!"

It's like I've stuck myself into a never-ending sequel of "Groundhog Day," starring me, my love life, and my romantic victims -- or rather, perpetrators. When I waltzed into this scene and industry, I had not a care in the world to bother about the idea of commitment. My charm and charisma have earned me the things I desired, has led me to rooms I've sought after for oh so long. Oftentimes I'd bring "my men" along to shows with me and proceed to flirtatiously fraternize with another near the bar to either further my ventures or try my luck at having plain old fun. I wonder if Karma's got its kiss for me because ever so recently, I've been in complete utter deep shit with men I actually DO care about now. It's expected to not catch feelings when you're in this field, that you gotta keep it cute, keep it light, keep it moving. All this is casual fun, ya know? Whatever happens, happens. And yeah, you know, I did do that for a good while. But with the constant surface-level partying, the never-ending sneaky links, the abuse of drugs -- eventually it got to me. When I had finally had enough of that, I realized I was left with this unrecognizable, God-sized void inside of me that felt there was a second part of me I was missing that I covered up with all of that. I just wanted someone to love me for me. To care about me and reciprocate what I feel for them. I was tired of being alone with my demons but at the same time, I just wanted to share my entire self with another who is deserving. And I guess for a year and a half, I did have that. I loved and was given love in a way that was sustainable, that made me finally feel safe and secure like nothing could ever go wrong in the world again. And if it did, we would figure it out together. He made me feel more sober, more grounded than abstaining from any type of drug could do for me. He's not a musician in any right, but he somehow managed to make me feel like I was on tour every time I'd come to him. Exhilarating, lively, intoxicatingly breathtaking -- but sometimes too loud, too fast, too momentary. Though all in the state of love and trust, we fell into each other like it would eventually fix our everything. It didn't, of course. For the past few months, it's been an almost never-ending hell hole of just waiting to see what would bring us to our next breakup this time around. Every fucking time. And still, I kept showing up for it. He may not always understand my fast-paced lifestyle that clashes with his need for settled-down stability, but I can't help but be determined to make it work. There was no need to argue when I had my mind set on what could become the perfect relationship. I think he felt otherwise. They say opposites attract and he did, in fact, become my main attraction. The obsession I once had for our destruction, to see it fall apart one minute and make up like it never happened, it all became so constant it began to feel like a game -- and I became persistent on winning. Our relationship fueled my fire in the best and worst ways. He'd get under the notion that my work would lead to unfaithfulness and recklessness, I got tense with even the smidge of fear that our seriousness would one day lead me to waking up one day feeling like I was losing my freedom. Or worse, myself. At times, it felt like I was being prepped to transform into little Mrs. Housewife. I combatted that by attempts to show him a whole new world, to try and bring him to shows and events he refused to go to anyways. It felt like I was leaning into a persona of normalcy I wasn't used to, nor did I like being in for too long.  And maybe I was trying to get him to lean into a more carefree expression of himself that he might've not been allowed to experience in the same ways I have. It's hard when the person you've been with doesn't understand the industry ins and outs of my work from the same standpoints as I do. When they think it's just for play -- it's all a big party, nothing to be taken so seriously and not a clear enough motive of direction. "But this is my livelihood!" I have to explain. This isn't the same as when I used to go out to party and get way too wasted for my own good on a random Wednesday night. This is me networking and making connections, providing art that I love so intensely, working aimlessly because I have this burning need to inspire and touch as many people as I can with what I do. At the end of the day, I just wanted to be able to come back from a long night's work after a show, fired up with adrenaline and have someone at home waiting for me that I could fully be myself with in love and just lie there wrapped around each other in what could finally be my comfortable silence. Maybe his desires are just different. Before today, our last stint of this cyclical behavior wound up in me going back to rehab for a third time! 45 days in a fucking institution only to come back to this shit. And the one time I venture outside of what we had, I get demoted back to a friend? "For now, at least." Great, thanks.

"LET'S STAY TOGETHER"

Now, here we are, in this space of indefinability. The "Maybe we'll figure it out," the "I still love you, but I can't do this," the "why do you always think a breakup is gonna be the end all be all of fixing our relationship? We should be figuring it out together!" It's the worst kind of heartbreak I think has ever been presented on this realm of earth. Its heartbreak that doesn't come with closure but instead fleeting moments between acting like you don't care to spare the pain of it all and venting all your frustrations as to why this is suddenly happening all over again, why can't you stop being stubborn and just figure it out or leave me alone for good. But I don't want to be left alone for good. I can't tell if the hardest part is losing him right now or having to bounce back from the version of myself that had been so far gone and warped into the "me" that tried to live up to the standards of how I felt I should be in a serious relationship. The girl who thought she'd finally had a taste of normalcy for once in her unordinary life. I'd spent years glamourizing and chasing the chaos' that be, yet when I decided to choose peace, it suddenly doesn't recognize me back. I've noticed that there are similarities in being in love and being in the spotlight. Both can be performance-based and feed off attention. I'd be lying, though, if I said I didn't have thoughts more often throughout our relationship tossing over in my head, "so this is really it, huh? Am I even ready to settle like I thought or am I making a mistake? Am I doing this too young? Will he be able to keep up with my lifestyle? What if we get in too deep, marriage and kids and all, and he suddenly decides one day to up and leave me and I'm stuck with all of this? What if I'm holding onto this relationship with someone when I'm really destined for someone else and I have absolutely no clue? What if I lose my identity trying to maintain expectations for the relationship and one day I go batshit crazy off the deep end and can't come back from what would seemingly be all those wasted years of what I thought I could make work?" But then when it ends, the silence once again feels deafening...like everything you once had is just gone.

Sometimes I feel like a complete sellout of my former self. If you would've told me I'd become this weird reformation from the sex-crazed, carefree bitch that follows her closest friends' bands around from city to city, venue to venue, I'd look at you as if you had three heads and I hold the inconvenient obligation to cut them all off. I mean, I didn't expect it all to happen as it did, but they always say you find love when you least expect it. And yet, I still hold onto the sentiments of him and what we have together. I still hold onto hope it'll all work itself out. I still playback the reasons why I do love him and continue to stay regardless of the tumultuousness we've been through. Some will say the best way to get over one is to get under another -- I just can't bring myself to do it. I've tried the Hinge and the Tinder's; I've tried to fake interest in men I used to talk to get my sexual mojo back. I just can't. And UGHHH! I just sound like such a lovesick hopeless puppy who's lacking the self-esteem to get it together...trust me, I'm working on it in therapy. I have no need for causality; it's played out and boring and I don't feel like getting to know other people to start this cycle again. In hindsight, heartbreak is its own kind of press cycle. You go through the denial, the "PR spin" acting like nothing is wrong on social media, late-night texted statements from breakdowns you wish you could retract and now have to try to do damage control for. But before you know it, you'll eventually wake up and come to your senses that everything is okay no matter how the circumstances turn out. The best I can do for now is continue finding myself and what benefits me. I'm still coming to terms with it, but I think it's a slow acceptance. And to me, that's the real evolution of being a "semi-retired" groupie. I'm teaching myself that I don't need a life full of destruction in order to feel alive (ironically considering my name). I have to be me and show up for me whether someone else is standing beside me or not. Because at the end of the day, the day is gonna end and I'm always gonna be stuck with me. I wouldn't change it for the world though. In my eyes I'm fucking badass and I can't believe how much I've done in such a short amount of time, even on days where I feel my lowest. I still do what I love in this industry and expect to make a change the best ways I can. Really, that's all that matters. And love shouldn't have to be this backstage mess, exclusivity, or agonizingly painful realization to come to that understanding.

TTYLXOX -- DESTRUCTION X DOLL <3

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