Post by Back from drug hell on Nov 9, 2004 8:52:12 GMT -5
You want Yasmine's full story for her drug problem? Here it is!
This article was found in the February 2003 issue of Glamour magazine.
BACK FROM DRUG HELL
Just two years ago, actress Yasmine Bleeth had a cocaine habit that was so severe, she collapsed at a Glamour photo shoot, she didn't sleep for five days at a time - and she was arrested after crashing her car while high on the drug. Here for the first time ever, she describes her rocky path to recovery and her ongoing struggle to stay sober. As told to Amy Spencer
On September 12, 2001 I did something I swore I'd never do: I got behind the wheel of a car while I was high on cocaine. My boyfriend, Paul Cerrito, and I had been staying at a hotel in Michigan while visiting his family, and we were due to fly back to Los Angeles on September 11, the day of the terroritst attacks. After hearing that the airports were shut down, I bought some drugs. The next evening, I was still high when, around 9:30, the two of us got into our rental car .
HOW IT ALL BEGAN
I never expected to get into drugs. I'd been on Baywatch from 1994 to 1997, and at the end of my three-year contract, I was offered a role oposite Don Johnson on Nash Bridges, which was shot in the Bay Area. So in June 1998, I moved from L.A. to San Francisco--and away from the man I had been dating for more that two years.
For the first few months, I flew back to Los Angeles every weekend to see him, but the distance was hard on the relationship , and we were having problems. Then during a phone conversation, we got into an argument that made me question our whole relationship. I should have ended it immediately, but I thought working through the problem would be easier than leaving him. You hear about people who are made for each other; I wanted to be one of those people. I was tired of feeling hurt. I was losing faith in love. I just wanted to feel good again. And I knew an easy way to get that feeling.
I tried cocaine twice before--once in my teens, then again in my late twenties. I liked it, but drugs weren't "me." I never smoked cigarettes, and I didn't even drink much. So at first, I just did coke socially on weekends with people I knew.
Three months later, I made my first phone call to a dealer and got some coke to do by my self at home. It was like ordering Chinese food: I made one phone call, and they delivered it to my front door. At first I did it only on weekends, ordering enough cocaine for just one night. It was the one thing about cocaine that I could control--the only thing. Then I started doing it during the week. It was all I could think about: coming home from work at around eight, locking the door, pulling down the shades, putting on dance music and doing some lines. And then I do all kinds of things.
I'd clean out my linen closet. I'd reorganize my photo albums. I'd spend hours plucking my eyebrows, putting on tanning cream, doing a facial. But mostly, I'd shop on the internet. I'd order from Saks Fifth Avenue or Neiman Marcus or Bluefly. It was the biggest joke--I bought all these beautiful things, but I never went out. Forget the money I was spending on drugs--I'd spend literally $5,000 to $10,000 in one night shopping on the Web! I was obsessed. Shopping was instant gratification. Just like the drugs.
Once I started doing drugs alone, I stopped seeing friends, then stopped answering the phone altogether--I just listened to my messages once a day to make sure there were no emergencies. Eventually I stopped doing even that.
The way I saw it, cocaine was easing me throught the problems I was still having with my boyfriend. On cocaine, I didn't think about the problems. I had no pain. I was ecstatic to be by myself all night long. I wouldn't sleep for two or three days, sometimes even four or five.
The early morning hours before, though. I remember watching the hours on the clock tick by and thinking, I can't sleep, I can't sleep. At six in the morning, half an hour before my car was due to pick me up for work, my face and nose would be swollen and I'd panic, thinking, Oh, no, what did I do? But the worst feeling--the most gut-wrenching feeling--was when I realized I was running out of cocaine. I had to remind myself, You'll have more in twelve hours, right after work.
I got a bloody nose on the set a couple of times, but the makeup artist would just hand me a tissue without saying a word and I'd clean it up. If I sounded stuffed up in the morning, I'd give myself a facial or I'd go to the steam room to detoxify my body. And if I was sniffling, my publicist would tell people I had sinus problems, which I do. "Yasmine just had an allergic reaction ," she'd say.
Still, I wanted to keep working; it was my one solid base. I never took drugs on the set--never--but because I was doing them until 6 a.m., I'd still be high during the day. Sometimes I'd be so exhausted that I'd fall asleep in my trailer and someone would have to come get me. But I got by. I always knew my lines. And I always got to work on time. It's just that instead of resting when I got home, I'd call my dealer.
The more drugs I did, the less frequently I traveled to Los Angeles to see my boyfriend. About eight months after moving to San Francisco, I stopped visiting him altogether and found that I didn't miss him at all. Then I called him up and ended it. I didn't need that relationship anymore. I had a new boyfriend: drugs.
This article was found in the February 2003 issue of Glamour magazine.
BACK FROM DRUG HELL
Just two years ago, actress Yasmine Bleeth had a cocaine habit that was so severe, she collapsed at a Glamour photo shoot, she didn't sleep for five days at a time - and she was arrested after crashing her car while high on the drug. Here for the first time ever, she describes her rocky path to recovery and her ongoing struggle to stay sober. As told to Amy Spencer
On September 12, 2001 I did something I swore I'd never do: I got behind the wheel of a car while I was high on cocaine. My boyfriend, Paul Cerrito, and I had been staying at a hotel in Michigan while visiting his family, and we were due to fly back to Los Angeles on September 11, the day of the terroritst attacks. After hearing that the airports were shut down, I bought some drugs. The next evening, I was still high when, around 9:30, the two of us got into our rental car .
HOW IT ALL BEGAN
I never expected to get into drugs. I'd been on Baywatch from 1994 to 1997, and at the end of my three-year contract, I was offered a role oposite Don Johnson on Nash Bridges, which was shot in the Bay Area. So in June 1998, I moved from L.A. to San Francisco--and away from the man I had been dating for more that two years.
For the first few months, I flew back to Los Angeles every weekend to see him, but the distance was hard on the relationship , and we were having problems. Then during a phone conversation, we got into an argument that made me question our whole relationship. I should have ended it immediately, but I thought working through the problem would be easier than leaving him. You hear about people who are made for each other; I wanted to be one of those people. I was tired of feeling hurt. I was losing faith in love. I just wanted to feel good again. And I knew an easy way to get that feeling.
I tried cocaine twice before--once in my teens, then again in my late twenties. I liked it, but drugs weren't "me." I never smoked cigarettes, and I didn't even drink much. So at first, I just did coke socially on weekends with people I knew.
Three months later, I made my first phone call to a dealer and got some coke to do by my self at home. It was like ordering Chinese food: I made one phone call, and they delivered it to my front door. At first I did it only on weekends, ordering enough cocaine for just one night. It was the one thing about cocaine that I could control--the only thing. Then I started doing it during the week. It was all I could think about: coming home from work at around eight, locking the door, pulling down the shades, putting on dance music and doing some lines. And then I do all kinds of things.
I'd clean out my linen closet. I'd reorganize my photo albums. I'd spend hours plucking my eyebrows, putting on tanning cream, doing a facial. But mostly, I'd shop on the internet. I'd order from Saks Fifth Avenue or Neiman Marcus or Bluefly. It was the biggest joke--I bought all these beautiful things, but I never went out. Forget the money I was spending on drugs--I'd spend literally $5,000 to $10,000 in one night shopping on the Web! I was obsessed. Shopping was instant gratification. Just like the drugs.
Once I started doing drugs alone, I stopped seeing friends, then stopped answering the phone altogether--I just listened to my messages once a day to make sure there were no emergencies. Eventually I stopped doing even that.
The way I saw it, cocaine was easing me throught the problems I was still having with my boyfriend. On cocaine, I didn't think about the problems. I had no pain. I was ecstatic to be by myself all night long. I wouldn't sleep for two or three days, sometimes even four or five.
The early morning hours before, though. I remember watching the hours on the clock tick by and thinking, I can't sleep, I can't sleep. At six in the morning, half an hour before my car was due to pick me up for work, my face and nose would be swollen and I'd panic, thinking, Oh, no, what did I do? But the worst feeling--the most gut-wrenching feeling--was when I realized I was running out of cocaine. I had to remind myself, You'll have more in twelve hours, right after work.
I got a bloody nose on the set a couple of times, but the makeup artist would just hand me a tissue without saying a word and I'd clean it up. If I sounded stuffed up in the morning, I'd give myself a facial or I'd go to the steam room to detoxify my body. And if I was sniffling, my publicist would tell people I had sinus problems, which I do. "Yasmine just had an allergic reaction ," she'd say.
Still, I wanted to keep working; it was my one solid base. I never took drugs on the set--never--but because I was doing them until 6 a.m., I'd still be high during the day. Sometimes I'd be so exhausted that I'd fall asleep in my trailer and someone would have to come get me. But I got by. I always knew my lines. And I always got to work on time. It's just that instead of resting when I got home, I'd call my dealer.
The more drugs I did, the less frequently I traveled to Los Angeles to see my boyfriend. About eight months after moving to San Francisco, I stopped visiting him altogether and found that I didn't miss him at all. Then I called him up and ended it. I didn't need that relationship anymore. I had a new boyfriend: drugs.
