Walking on Eggshells: Discovering Strength and Courage Amid Chaos (20 page)

We had nowhere near that amount of money. I don’t think I could have helped her if her bail was $150. Not knowing what else to do, I stayed up all night to call friends to ask for $10 here, $15 there, in hopes that together we could raise enough money that Barbara could be released. When I reached the end of our list of friends I had pulled a lot of the money together, but we were still a long way from the amount needed.

When Barbara finally called from jail, she was hysterical. She wanted out now and said it was up to me—almost like it was my fault she was there. Another issue with her release was that we couldn’t find a bondsman in Fairbanks, and the only ones I could find in Anchorage didn’t want to fool with a bond that small. I began to panic, as I wasn’t sure I could ever get Barbara out of jail. By this time it was March and our kids were just a few months shy of three years old. Travis kept asking where his mother was and I didn’t have a clue what to tell him.

Then a miracle happened. Barbara’s tax refund arrived, and along with the other money I had gathered, it was enough to release her from jail. But first I had to find a way to cash the check. Barbara and I looked enough alike that I risked my own freedom to secure hers. I took her driver’s license and the check to a Fred Meyer store and pretended to be Barbara as the clerk exchanged the check for cash. I was so nervous I could hardly breathe, and when the cash was handed to me I resisted the impulse to run as fast as I could out
the front door. I was relieved to have Barbara out of jail, but more than a little put out at my illegal involvement in the process.

A few days later my episode of
Dog the Bounty Hunter
aired. I might have missed it, but because the episode was the first one of the second season, A&E really hyped it, and everyone in Fairbanks knew I was going to be featured. When I turned on the television that evening at my mother’s, I didn’t know what to expect, and I almost didn’t recognize the spaced-out girl on the show as me.

How could I look like that? I wondered. In my drugged-up state I saw myself as hip, together, and cool, but my TV image showed none of that. Was that how others saw me? Really? I had a hard time accepting that this was who I had become. People say a picture is worth a thousand words, and seeing my image on international television certainly was a shocking eye-opener for me. This was not who I wanted to be. Not at all. This was not anything close to the life I wanted for myself—or Abbie. I knew I’d had a good start during the few months I was in Hawai’i. Maybe, I thought, I could go back and build on that.

I had been in Alaska for only six weeks, but I had had enough. These past weeks had by far topped other times in my life as the worst ever. I had taken the drinking and drugging to new heights and could see that they were getting me nowhere. Plus I had risked a lot to forge Barbara’s name on her tax refund and did not ever want to be in that kind of situation again.

For the first time I wondered what would happen to Abbie if I ever landed in jail. Who would take care of her? Nurture her?
Educate her? Keep her safe? Those were my jobs, and I realized I had found the motivation that would put my life on a much better track.

I called Dad, and in spite of everything he willingly took me back into his home. I am so grateful to him for that, especially because I understand that he could just as easily have said no. In response, I vowed to return to Hawai’i with a new mind-set. And I did. On April 8, 2005, Abbie, Travis, and I boarded a plane, and I have not been back to Alaska since. Barbara wanted to come, too, but the pending court date from her theft charge kept her in Alaska.

I loved Travis like my own son and wanted him to be part of the new life I was going to forge for Abbie and myself. The plan was for Barbara to head south after her legal troubles were over, but that didn’t happen. More boyfriends, more drugs, and more parties held her in Fairbanks. I wish she could have come with us, as my new attitude might have helped her. Or it could have been that her mind-set could have pulled me back down. I will never know for sure. But one thing I did know was that I wanted to enter the family business as a bounty hunter more than I had ever wanted just about anything. I knew that studying for and passing the tests would be difficult, but I wasn’t going to let anything—including drugs, alcohol, men, or parties—stand in my way. For once I was 100 percent determined to succeed.

★

A
ll my life, I
have been identified as either “white trash,” “dirt poor,” or “drug addict”—or all three. Those are terrible words to identify with, and they do nothing to build a young woman’s self-esteem. They are also difficult words to overcome.

One place that I often have trouble overcoming those words, unfortunately, is in church. When members of a congregation first discover that I was an unwed teen mother they are taken aback. Many do not seem to be able to get past this fact of my life and I do not understand that. Should I be thought of as scum for the rest of my life because I became pregnant at age fourteen?

To these people I say, don’t look at what I have done, but what I am doing now. Look at what you see of my children. I am the
best parent I can be and anyone who meets my daughters can see that they are thriving. They are my proof, so look at my recent successes, rather than use negative words from my past to describe me now.

By the time I returned to Hawai’i this second time I knew that one way or another I was done with those negative words and with those identities. I didn’t quite know how I’d shake them, but with every passing day and with every new episode of craziness, I desperately wanted the cycle of addiction, poverty, neglect, and abuse that was riddled throughout my family and my life to stop with me. I have made great strides, but I know that I can never stop working toward that goal. Look at my dad. Against all odds he made a better life for himself and became famous for being a bounty hunter rather than an attempted murderer. If he could change his life, I knew I could change mine.

When I arrived, I once again moved in with Dad and Beth. I was totally strung out, but this time I dedicated my first week to getting the drugs out of my system. It was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. I remember asking my dad when the wanting, the feeling I had to have drugs, would go away. He told me it would never go away, and that was one of the saddest things I ever heard him say.

At the time, Dad and Beth lived in a three-bedroom ranch-style house. When I moved in it required some juggling, and when things settled down Abbie, Travis, and I were in one bedroom, with Cecily and Bonnie Jo in the second. Dad, Beth, and Garry
Boy were in the master. I got the feeling that Beth resented our presence and the need for new bedroom assignments, and she also may have thought I was more trouble than I was worth. I do realize I hadn’t done much to impress her or anyone else.

The tight living arrangements also made it difficult for me to get along with Beth. Between moments of loving her, I can’t tell you how much I hated Beth when I was growing up. But now with what little maturity I had, I could see another side of her. I wanted to make things right between us, so I went overboard to win her over because I knew her feelings for me were similar to mine for her. But my efforts always seemed to backfire. Even though I tried to be sweet and loving, no matter what I did it still was wrong.

As an example, one day I was sent to the store to get greenhouse tomatoes, and I came back with the vine-ripened kind. For the next twenty minutes I heard how worthless I was. “Do you see the words on the list?” I was asked as the list was held in front of my nose. “Do you see where it says
greenhouse
?” Over and over and over. I felt so embarrassed and useless. I knew I had messed up many times in the past. I don’t dispute that at all. And I am sure I was told exactly what kind of tomatoes to get. I messed up there, too. But I wanted Beth, and Dad, to know how hard I was trying. I felt then and feel now that encouragement for the effort I was putting forth, rather than negative reinforcement, would have helped me adjust to my new life. I was trying so hard and getting absolutely no praise. So I just tried harder.

I was also heartbroken that Barbara had to stay in Alaska. In
spite of Barbara’s drug use and irresponsibility, she was still the older sister I adored and I felt lost without her. Having her around would have made my transition much easier.

While all of this made the upheaval of the move from Alaska to Hawai’i difficult, the most life-changing concept that resulted from moving in with Dad and Beth was having enough food to put on my own plate. In Alaska I had just eaten leftovers from a plate I made for Abbie. I never had enough food, and I wanted to be sure Abbie had eaten her fill first. It seems such a simple thing, but I had been so destitute that eating had become a luxury.

One day not too long after I arrived I went along with Beth and Dad and the kids to the beach. I still loved the ocean but hadn’t had much time to spend near it, so this was a real treat for me. On the way we stopped at a grocery store to stock up on food for the day. Dad told all of us to be sure to get what we wanted. I think I picked up one pizza Lunchables for Abbie and me to share for the entire day. In my mind, at the time, it seemed like a lot of food for the two of us. But both Dad and Beth asked if I wasn’t hungry. I was, but it was such a huge culture shock for me to go into a grocery store and walk out with enough food to fill me for an entire day. I was so happy to have food for both of us that I wanted to cry.

I knew that making the commitment to my new life was going to be hard, but I had not factored in the emotional turmoil it would bring. When I sank to rock bottom it was a gradual process, and I didn’t realize how far down I had gone. I could deal with each
comfort that was taken away (such as electricity, a bed to sleep in, clean clothing, and food) because it happened over a period of months. But to have all of that back at once was such an overload it was very hard to process. I am grateful to Dad and Beth for taking Abbie and me in and giving me another chance because I shudder to think what might have happened to us if they had not opened their door to us.

But aren’t parents supposed to do that? The years of abuse, neglect, and dysfunction from my parents were what had turned me into an addict in the first place. I sometimes felt bad taking up their breathing room, but there’s a totem pole to the Chapman family, and I was on the bottom. Because of our family structure, I’d always felt I was groveling, even though I was helping as much as I could. Of course, no one ever let me forget the horrible lie I had told about my dad. I felt like I was continually walking on eggshells.

The last time I was going to use, Dad and Beth were out of town. I really wanted some crack, even though I also wanted to stay clean. The pull toward drugs won out, and by the time I scored the drug I was shaking so badly that it felt as if I had already smoked it. But I hadn’t. Instead, I went to Dad’s office, where some of the people there were in AA, and I hoped they would help me.

When I walked in I said, “I bought crack today, and all I want to do is go home and smoke it. Please help me.” Tayshea had become a good friend, and she dropped everything to share her story of
recovery with me. Her tough love and kind words allowed me to go home and flush the crack down the toilet. I have never looked back. Thank you, Tayshea.

Once the worst of the drugs had left my system my head felt clearer and I had more energy. Those, however, did not come easily. Going without drugs was terribly hard and felt alien to me. At first just getting through each day was an enormous challenge. My body craved the drugs it had been used to for so long. I really wanted to use, but I wanted to be clean for Abbie and for myself even more.

Eventually I began helping Beth around the house. In fact, I became an overachiever. After years of “underperforming” nearly everything I attempted in life, I began to excel. I once again started to get the kids up for school, made their breakfast, dropped them off, and picked them up. I also did routine household chores such as vacuuming, cooking, and laundry. I made sure the bathrooms were spotless, the kids’ clothes were folded to perfection, and I correctly picked up every item from the grocery store.

My biggest problem, once I was past the withdrawals, was learning to have fun again. For so many years my fun was to do drugs. Now I had to find different ways to unwind. I began to run, and before I knew it I was up to six miles a day. I also spent a lot of “fun time” with Abbie. I took her to the zoo, and to the beach park near us. Our part of Alaska had been small, and there weren’t a lot of things to do the three months of the year when it was actually warm enough to go outside, so I reveled in the many
outdoor activities Hawai’i had to offer. I also got caught up on all the movies I had missed.

In addition, I began working in our bail bonds office, Da Kine, and I liked the work right away. It was interesting, and I felt I was helping people. It had been so long since I’d been able to think about anything other than mere survival that helping a stranger out of a jam gave me another kind of high altogether.

The first thing I realized about my new job was that I had a new identity as Dog’s daughter. Gone were the old, derogatory labels I used to identify with. As Dad’s daughter I was able to claim a tiny bit of respect for myself, and that helped boost my self-esteem.

All of this helped me realize that I did not have to be a drug addict for the rest of my life. That was a really empowering thought. I had been using drugs for ten years, more than half my life. Now I finally realized that I had the power within myself to be a person who didn’t use. Even more important, I could live a much better life without drugs than with. I grew up with drugs being all I knew, and every adult around me used. When that is all you know, that is what you become. This was the first opportunity I’d had to prove to myself that there was another way to live, and I grabbed on to that thought with everything I had.