Adventures of Grey Rock

Chapter 4: High School

Photo by Greg Raines on Unsplash

High School was a blast. It’s not a small task to recall my high school years. Much of it spent under the influence of “whatever you got.” I wasn’t popular myself but hung out with popular people. I also hung out with the smokers and the rebels. I guess you could call me a jock, but not with all the bravado. High School humbled me because I was suddenly not the best at everything, there were much more talented people in the other schools. I liked hanging out with people who were better than me, hoping it would rub off, I guess. Most of my friends were from the richest school because they had what I wanted: A nice big house with a pool and a maid.

My routine after school was after practice or class I would go home and clean, then do my homework and then I had free time until I had to help with dinner. I usually ate dinner and then free time. I ran at night. Five miles a day except on weekends. I liked to stay in shape for the next season of whatever sport I was playing. If I was home, I found a way to sequester myself in my room.

I didn’t steal, with one exception, booze at a grocery store, usually I could buy it without an identification. I abhor thieves so I didn’t do it. There have been many times when I had the chance to steal some valuable stuff or massive amounts of drugs and didn’t. Now I figure, if they steal it, they must need it more badly than I do.

Along the line many mistakes were made in dealing with my alcoholism. In eighth grade I found out my IQ scores and it humbled and excited me, but they shouldn’t have had the information be public like that. I wasn’t the smartest, my good friend was. I was happy for her. Now that my IQ is probably much lower, I find myself writing handicapped. Serious damage has occurred.

Interventions of the lame kind tried to involve my mother, but she would defend me to the hilt. She didn’t know why I was angry. Especially when my boyfriend got ahold of my therapy journal from the school office in my counselors file cabinet. I couldn’t tell her how much that hurt me, and mistrust was solidified after that. I trusted no adult to keep my secrets.

Then there was the distaste of teachers in general. If I liked you, I attended class, if I didn’t, I would do the minimal to get a good grade.

I remember the day that I decided I never had to feel anything I didn’t want to as long as I had drugs and alcohol. This decision was just as important as the decision to quit. I kept a thermos of vodka and grapefruit juice in my locker. Cross tops were my favorite because I could get a lot done and I didn’t hate math.

There are so many things like the time a bunch of us ate orange sunshine LSD and one of the guys ended up in the hospital. It was potent. I had to excuse myself from typing glass because her face was changing expressions, and the typing noise made the papers fly around the room. I think I typed gibberish and realized I needed to chill. I then went into the nearest women’s bathroom and sat there trying to gather my wits. This teacher was very patient with us. One time I went by typing class and stuffed hair from my brush into my nostrils and put my face to the little window. I must have cracked them up so much she had them looking for me. But I hid in the locker room.

My senior year was a year of concerts and Bonnie Raitt at the Fair. One year I was drinking MD 20/20, and I was finishing up my second one and put my third one in the back of my pants. To sneak out into the river and bypass the fence, the fence only went out so far. So, we went around it. Well halfway there I fell a couple of times because it was slippery. But we got in. I sat down and the bottle broke. I would get 80 stitches after they put me in a strait jacket. I didn’t think it was that bad. But it was, I lost a lot of blood. It was worth it to see Bonnie Raitt play the blues.

It’s a miracle I graduated high school with the attendance I had my senior year. As I had been kicked out for taking a swing at Mr. Hoffman and was sure I would get expelled. But Mom and I promised to be good, so they let me graduate. After all I had the intelligence, so it seemed, to graduate and go on to college. Staff didn’t understand my acting out and I didn’t understand their rules. Like don’t wake and bake before calculus. I had to quit smoking weed in the morning before calculus. I’d never flunked anything before, so it was humbling that I had to take it over again.

I couldn’t tell grandma that I was not willing to go to Europe, grandma was Bohemian and tried to teach me German. I was too paranoid they would find my contraband to travel with drugs. But missing a few flights, the people waiting for you on the other end get pissed. We still talk about the time I flew into Eugene and my luggage got there a few hours before I did. I still feel bad about making them wait and worry.

It’s funny how we remember some things and other things we are oblivious.