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Go-Go Rach  once was a girl whose world was controlled by the idea that she was POWERLESS. After a chain of events, she realized she'd been lied to. Now she does whatever she wants, whenever she wants, with whomever she chooses to do it with.

Her blog chronicles the horrors she experienced in the halls of Alcoholics Anonymous (THE CULT) and the wonderful things she does now that she's escaped. *IF SHE BIT HER TONGUE ANY LONGER, IT WOULD BLEED!*

Her life is pretty GREAT.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011



"There once was girl, who had a curl, right in the middle of her forehead.  And when she was good, she was very, very good.  When she was bad, she was HORRID."

That old nursery rhyme has and always will describe my incredible daughter, Rachel (aka Go-Go Rach).  She was born brilliant, with a look in her bright, blue eyes, that said "BUCKLE UP."  I'll finish that sentence for her, with I'm gonna be *AWESOME.*  I hope you won't mind just a few more adjectives.  She is loving, kind, ruthlessly loyal to those she loves, and the funniest person I know.

Believe it, or not, Rachel was a shy, delicate, little girl, who was hijacked away from me, but that is another story.

The year Rachel turned thirteen, my world flipped upside down.  Out of nowhere came this evil, I know everything there is to know, so FUCK YOU, teenager.  In her opinion, my IQ suddenly dropped 100 points.  I went from "Gee whiz, you are a genius," to "MOM, you are a blithering idiot, you don't know SHIT." She loved to say "Mom, you are so GAY."  As you know, everything went downhill from there.

September 29, 1989 was EPIC because that is the day MY daughter robbed a bank.  I felt like I had been struck dumb by lightening.  Here's how it went.

As usual, I was up at 6 am to get ready for work.  I had a terrible feeling of impending doom, that something awful was about to happen to Rachel. 

She was fired from the job I helped her get, because she told my boss to go fuck himself when he wouldn't let her have her paycheck on Friday, instead of Monday, as per the rules.  She demanded a lot because she was my daughter, and number one in her department, where she made an astronomical amount of money for an eighteen year old.  I was mortified and scared because she was out of control and living with a known hard drug user.  I recently learned about his convict brother moving into her place.

She had been MIA, for two full weeks, since she had been relieved of her position,

On the day of the robbery, I just couldn't shake the disturbing sense I had, so I tried and tried to call her, with no success. It was a Friday, when managers at the resort where paid.  Normally, on pay day, I would go to the office, pick up my paycheck, then go cash it at the bank before I had to report for work.  Because of the overwhelming feeling I had about my daughter that day, I wanted to swing by her apartment to check on her, instead.

Things weren't so secure in the eighties.  My manager would cash our checks, with our identifications, to help his star players stay working.  I was one of them.  I asked him to do me the favor that morning, so I'd  have time to go to the beach, where Rachel lived, to see what the hell was going on.

I'd heard terrible stories about the people she was with.  One of the most frightening, was that one of them had recently been showing off a gun.  I was in a panic.  I drove to her apartment as fast as I could.

My finger pressed her buzzer over and over.  I knocked on her door so hard, I bruised my hand.  There was no answer.  I was petrified.  I wondered if she was dead, so I begged the landlord to let me in.  He said he would, but would have to escort me.  Rachel has always been a neat freak, so we were shocked to find her apartment an utter pig stye.  

There was garbage everywhere, sink over flowing with dishes, ashtrays flooded with cigarette butts, and marijuana roaches.  Clothes were strewn about, hangers were tossed from room to room, there where empty beer bottles in every room, including the bath.  It was obvious to me that she left in a rush.  The apartment reeked of rotting food and was not in the condition I'd ever known my child to live.  Her luggage was gone.  My heart sank.  The landlord said he'd let me know if she returned, or he heard from her.  I knew she wasn't coming back.

I got in my car to go back to work.  My mind was racing.  I realized I had taken the long way back, so now I was more stressed because I would be late to work.  As a manager, I was expected to be on time, no matter what.  I was frustrated that I went the wrong direction.  Now I know, I drove right past my daughter on that fateful day.  I noticed the limousine, but it would not have occurred to me that Rachel was sitting right there, in the back seat.

As usual, work was busy, and full of prospects visiting to claim their free gift, after their tour of the luxury resort, where I was a successful and respected sales manager.  I worked hard.  As usual, it was two in the afternoon, before I took a break.

I left the sales building to go into the manager's office.  As I walked through the door, the office manager said, "Oh, Cyndi, Rachel called.  She said she will call back later."  I lost it.  I wanted to know why the hell she hadn't come to get me.  I really came down on her, until I realized no one had any idea what was going on in my head, or with Rachel, since I hadn't said anything. 

With embarrassment, I apologized and went to my boss's office to get my cash, and i.d., but he said, "I couldn't cash your check."  I asked, Why not?  I gave you my driver's license.  He said, "Let me finish.  I couldn't cash your paycheck because the bank was robbed, that was the first bank robbery in Maine in nearly thirty years."  I felt like I'd been punched in the chest.  I knew my Rachel had something to do with it.  It was all I could do to not have a breakdown, right there in the Director of the Resort's office.

When I went back to the sales office, one of my employees said "Come with me."  She brought me to a newspaper stand, where we bought the afternoon edition of the local paper. She pointed at the article on the front page.  I began to read about the bank that had been robbed at gunpoint that morning, for an undisclosed amount of money.  I did all of my banking there.  My fears about Rachel's friends where confirmed.

The paper said the get away car was a red sirocco, driven by a female with two male passengers.  It was a small town, where everyone knew the car, and the girl who owned it.  She was one of my daughter's friends.  My first thought was that Rachel could not be driving, since the car is a standard, which she doesn't know how to operate.  

My second thought was, Oh my God, then, where IS Rachel? 

Before I could process any of this, I was confronted by the local police and the F.B.I.  Life, as I knew it, would never be the same.  This was my worst nightmare in living color.

I learned that day that FROZEN WITH FEAR can be literal.  I went home, where I could not get up off my couch for two days.  I just sat there, numb.  I thought about how often I'd warn Rachel not to get caught up in anything illegal because, I would have no control over anything that happened to her, once the police where involved.  There was nothing I could do for her.  She was taken from me.

Can you imagine? 

I still can't.

And I lived through it.

Thanks for reading.

Written, with love, by, THE MOMMA


DeConstrucor's Comment In Response to LETTER TO MY "FRIENDS" IN AA (page above)

"Brav fucking O.....Standing O fucking Vation. Or perhaps the Charlie Daniels quote from the Geico commercial of "thats how you do it son"

That was incredible.

Reminded me a little of "the letter" at the end of the Breakfast Club (perhaps the greatest movie ever)

Keep it up, dont be afraid to kick them in the teeth once in a while.

Always remember that its the misfits, the rebels, and the troublemakers that are the ones that change the world."

He post the following video at the end of his comment.

Thank you, my friend.
I am both Flattered and HONORED.

*This Video is here to support Decon's Words, not OBAMA (or any politician for that matter, since I've never been allowed to vote) Sincerely, Go-Go Rach.