by Nic Sheff
Every day I take the different medications I’ve been prescribed. Every day I go running with Tallulah and Rhett, my little baby bloodhound, up in the canyons around Los Angeles.
Every day I write and try to build a life for myself.
Every day I pay my bills and clean my apartment and eat dinner and try ’n’ sleep.
Every day I live sober.
I travel around talking to high school kids about addiction and recovery. I go to therapy with Dr. Cooper. I write a column about recovery for an online magazine, thefix.com. I don’t drink. I don’t do drugs.
It is every day.
And it never ends.
Addiction is a lifelong process for me. And as much as I do love my life today, I still wouldn’t wish this thing on anyone. Being an addict sucks.
When I go to high schools and talk to kids, I always tell them, you know, it may look like I went through everything and came out the other side okay and even successful, but that’s not how it is at all. Every day I suffer from the decisions I made and from this addiction thing that I allowed to get so out of control.
From the ages of eleven to twenty-six, I’ve been wasting my life trying to figure out a way to not have to be sober. I just did not want to accept the fact that I have this alcoholism thing and it is a death sentence—no, worse than a death sentence. It’s worse than a death sentence ’cause it manipulated me and made me crazy and delusional and it altered my brain chemistry so I am left permanently damaged.
For so long I tried to blame my addiction on my family or my childhood or my depression and bipolar disorder, but that was all just bullshit.
It’s taken me a long time to understand what’s really wrong with me.
You see, there’s a scientist—some lady in San Francisco—who’s been able to breed an entire strain of addict flies. That is, flies that are drug addicts/alcoholics. The way I understand it is that this scientist created an alcohol-and-cocaine vapor that the flies could inhale if they chose to walk down a certain corridor in their cage. And she, the scientist, found that, while all the flies will, from time to time, go down the corridor to get drunk or high—a smaller percentage of the population will go down the corridor over and over again—abandoning all food and water—participating in a cycle that seems eerily human. They get drunk or stoned, wobble around for a while, have trouble flying, and pass out for twenty or thirty minutes, and then they wake up and do it all over again.
And so by examining and dissecting those particular flies more prone to addictive tendencies, that scientist has actually been able to isolate some of the genes linked with alcoholism and then breed those particular flies with those genes together in order to create an entire, like, brood of alcoholic/addict flies. In fact, these flies are such hard-core addicts that even when the corridor leading to their drug supply is replaced with a highly electrified metal panel, the flies will still walk down it to get their drug of choice. Sure they’ll be getting shocked to all hell, but it still won’t stop them. Whereas the nonaddict flies will put one little fly foot on that electrified surface and then back off immediately, never to go back.
The addict flies, just like addict humans, will go to absolutely any lengths to get their next fix—even when that is in direct opposition to what is every living creature’s natural instinct for survival and self-preservation. In other words, once an addict is an addict—that is, an active addict—whether you’re a human being or a gross-ass fly, getting high is the only thing that matters. We will do anything it takes to get more. It becomes what we live for. And that is not a moral or rational decision. It is encoded in our DNA. And, yes, it can remain dormant for your whole life. Or it can awaken like it did for me—you know, back when I was twelve years old and I’d started smoking pot every day.
So that means the drugs actually were the problem—well, the drugs and my goddamn genetic code.
It’s ridiculous, really, to think about how long I’ve fought to deny that simple fact. And, honestly, I’m not even sure why that is exactly. Maybe it just seemed embarrassing to admit that it was the drugs themselves that totally fucked up my life. Like, it seemed cooler or whatever to be able to blame my addiction on my messed-up childhood, or my creepy stepdad, or my mom leaving, or something like that. And, while I’m sure all that stuff did play a role in terms of why I started using drugs in the first place, my actual addiction had nothing to do with any of that. ’Cause obviously a ton of people have a hard time growing up, and obviously they don’t all turn out to be drug addicts—even the ones who do end up doing drugs.
The only thing that made me any different was that I had this messed-up genetic whatever, just like my new little fly friends. And then the drugs did the rest. The drugs changed me. They changed my brain chemistry, and they even changed the way I thought about myself and my past.
Back when I was eighteen and I first tried crystal meth, I remember having this feeling like, wow, this is the first and only time I’ve ever been happy. And I believed that. Hell, I believed that for most of my life. I believed that before crystal meth I was never happy—and that without crystal, I would never be happy again.
But that was a lie.
That was a lie that the drug told me.
That lie was the drug manipulating me and changing my brain chemistry. And, yeah, like the flies, I learned to walk across an electrified panel just to get another fix.
It’s pathetic, I know.
I take a drink or a drug and instantly I start to turn.
I become a man becoming a fly.
Me and the flies, operating from the same place of blind, insatiable hunger.
There’s a scene in that Cronenberg movie—you know, The Fly—where Jeff Goldblum (midway through fly transformation) tells Geena Davis, “I’m an insect who dreamt he was a man and loved it. But now the dream is over… and the insect is awake.”
And, yeah, the more drugs I use—and the longer I’m out there—the more goddamn fly-like I become—and the harder it is to get back to my humanness.
And I know that not everybody is able to make it back.
I only wish that when I was younger I could’ve understood what alcoholism really is—a genetic mutation, a mental illness, and a lifelong battle. Maybe then I would’ve been able to recognize the signs of my own budding alcoholism before my whole life was taken over.
Maybe I wouldn’t have had to waste all those years living as a goddamn fly.
It was just such a waste.
The only reconciliation I have with any of this is that I have the opportunity now to share what I’ve learned and to hopefully help other addicts.
Not that I’m ungrateful for my life now.
Because I am. I am grateful.
All I’m saying is that it’s a waste.
And there’s nothing glamorous or sexy about that.
It’s not cool or badass.
What’s cool is being able to take care of your family.
What’s badass is being able to give your family a home and health insurance and being able to pay your taxes.
What’s glamorous is being a good father, a good husband, a good fucking dog owner.
That’s what I care about today.
That’s what matters.
I will devote everything to that.
And I will succeed.
Because I cannot fall down again.
I will not fall down again.
I mean, I don’t have to fall.
None of us have to fall.
We don’t all fall down.
We don’t.
So I’m over this drug shit.
It’s done.
And this is my last recovery memoir ever.
That is, I’ll have no more drug stories to tell after this.
But I am gonna keep on writing. In fact, I’m working on a novel right now, and I’ve even been doing some TV writing.
And while it’s not gonna be about drugs… there’ll definitely be plenty of blood and sex and gore in e
verything I do to go around….
So hopefully y’all will wanna keep checkin’ my stuff out.
Like Marc Bolan says,
“Deep in my heart,
there’s a house
that can hold
just about all of you.”
All right, cool, thanks again….
Talk to you soon….
N
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
All right, well, Christ, I don’t know what to say. Of course I want to thank, again, my mom and my stepmom and my dad. I love y’all… even if I don’t always call.
Jasper and Daisy, I’m really proud of both of you. I mean, you two are really some of my favorite people and my best friends, and I love you and respect you and care for you so much.
Thank you to:
The St. John Coltrane African Orthodox Church
Mark and Jenny and Bear and Becca and Steve and Mark and Susan and Lucy and Nancy and Don and Joan and Sumner.
And Adam (I love you).
And Max (I love you, too).
Even if I don’t always call.
And Binky, thank you so much. You’re incredibly wonderful to me.
And Elizabeth, this has been so awesome. Thank you for everything. I think you’re totally amazing and cool.
Even if I don’t always call.
And Jeremy Kleiner, I really admire you a whole lot.
And Ron Bernstein, I admire you, too.
And Cameron, you’ve been so great to me.
And Dr. Mooney, thank you, thank you, thank you.
Thank you all very much.
Love.
Me.
FOR MORE INFORMATION
Al-Anon and Alateen
www.al-anon.org
www.al-anon.org/for-alateen
Alcoholics Anonymous
www.aa.org
Nar-Anon
www.nar-anon.org
Narcotics Anonymous
www.na.org
National Association for Children of Alcoholics (NACoA)
www.nacoa.org
National Institute on Drug Abuse for Teens
teens.drugabuse.gov
The Partnership at Drugfree.org
www.drugfree.org
READING GROUP GUIDE FOR WE ALL FALL DOWN
What do you think of the title of this book? Have you ever “fallen down”? How did you get back up?
Nic has a contentious relationship with Melonie, his counselor at The Safe Passage Center. Do you think that Melonie was trying to help Nic? Why do you think Nic had such a hard time communicating with Melonie?
Early in the book, Nic mentions a rehab center that forbade its patients from writing, playing music, and reading. Can you imagine getting through your day with no music, no writing, and no reading?
When they first become a couple, Nic tells Sue Ellen, “I could never hurt you.” As the story progresses, Nic does hurt her through his actions. Why do you think people sometimes hurt the ones they love?
In Chapter 14, Nic is a passenger on a very turbulent flight. Thinking about the plane possibly crashing, Nic thinks to himself, “I’m ready.” What do you think Nic means by this statement? What events leading up to this moment would allow him to arrive at such a low place?
Do you think that parties and other social occasions are difficult for sober people? Do you think that some people use drinking or drugs as a social crutch?
Nic fights against conventional rehab methods like the twelve steps used in A.A. Do you think people can find solutions to personal problems without following a subscribed method or program?
Tallulah becomes an important presence in Nic’s life. How can pets help people who are dealing with problems?
Nic meets Fallon in the airport and immediately feels close to her. Have you ever met someone and felt an instant connection?
Nic’s dad urges him to get professional help, and Nic ultimately receives treatment from a psychiatrist in Los Angeles. Would you ever urge a friend or family member to get outside help if you felt that they needed it?
At the end of the book, Nic and Justin break down a physical wall, and Nic says, “We broke through to the other side.” What moments in your life have been breakthrough moments?
NIC SHEFF DISCUSSES WRITING
1. Reviewers have called your books “searingly honest,” “raw,” and “compelling.” Do you write to capture the world around you, both the light and the dark?
Honestly, this sounds kind of pretentious maybe, but I really just wrote because I needed to write. I mean, I feel like I write because I have to. There’s like this compulsion in me to process the world through writing. I’m sure it comes from my dad being a writer, and also from all the books I loved reading as a kid. Being a writer is what I’ve always want to do. And, whether I get paid for it or not, I know I will always write. But, yes, I do write to process the world around me (not necessarily to “capture” it), and the world around me is both dark and light. I have lived with a lot of darkness, so that must be why it comes out in my writing.
2. Your dialogue is nuanced and distinct. How do you capture other people’s voices?
Well, despite all the drugs, you know, somehow I do seem to remember that kind of stuff pretty distinctly. Like, I remember conversations. A year or so after my first book came out, I ran into this girl I’d written about in the book, briefly. She’d read the book, and when we were talking about it, she asked me the same question, because I’d written down all our conversations almost verbatim. In fact, she said she remembered having used the exact same words I’d written. So, I don’t know, I feel lucky, I guess, in that way. I remember everything. But it can suck, too, you know? ’Cause I don’t ever get to forget all the pain and bad shit that happened.
3. Some writers maintain routines or rituals, like writing a page every day before breakfast. Do you have any writing habits or routines?
No, not really. It always changes. A lot of times I write at night while I’m watching TV, and then I’ll work till like 3 a.m. and the then sleep till 2. Sometimes I write in the morning. Actually, I used to write in the morning more, but now that I have dogs, I have to take them out on hikes, so I usually write at night.
4. Your books contain what some people might call “mature” or “explicit” language. Can you discuss your love affair with curse words?
First of all, it is the way I talk. But also, I mean, not that I’m an expert or anything, but to me, writing is about rhythm. No, it’s about story arc and plot and all that stuff, but to me, the most exciting aspect of writing is rhythm. I love music, and writing is like music, and, you know, “curse” words add flow to our language. They add music to the language. A sentence might be just plain boring. But a sentence can’t be fucking boring… you know what I mean? It’s all part of the rhythm.
5. What writers have influenced you as an author?
Dennis Cooper, Jim Thompson, Donald Goines, Iceberg Slim, Pauline Reage, Katherine Dunn, Matthew Stokoe, Jerry Stahl, Chandler, Hammett, Burroughs, Ryu Murakami, Mishima, Genet, Kosinski, Bukowski, Henry Miller, Chester Himes, Shirley Jackson, and more.
PRAISE FOR NIC SHEFF
WE ALL FALL DOWN
“Sheff’s journey, like his writing, is raw and compelling, heartbreaking and witty. An honest and gracious reflection about the challenges of recovery.”
—RACHEL SONTAG, author of House Rules: A Memoir
“The present-tense storytelling and Sheff’s authentic voice will keep readers engaged.”
—Publishers Weekly
TWEAK
“Difficult to read and impossible to put down.”
—Chicago Tribune
“An unflinching chronicle of life as an addict.”
—U.S. News and World Report
“Raw, powerful and honest.”
—The Bookseller
“Sheff’s story takes off like a shot in the arm with a terse, honest, and spontaneous narrative.”
—Kirkus Reviews
Cont
ents
Front Cover Image
Welcome
Dedication
Epigraph
Note to Readers
Introduction
Part 1
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Part 2
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Part 3
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
For More Information
Reading Group Guide for We All Fall Down
Nic Sheff Discusses Writing
Praise for Nic Sheff
Copyright
Copyright
Text copyright © 2011 by Nic Sheff
Epilogue copyright © 2012 by Nic Sheff
Reading Group Guide and Author Interview copyright © 2012 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
