Tera Patrick - Sinner Takes All

Even though I had been on a self-imposed hiatus leading up to this mess, I still knew that I would want to reenter the business at some point. The big deal for me, and what made me fight so hard, was that they wanted to take my name. I created the name and worked very hard to get to this point in my career. I couldn’t stand the thought of them owning my name and being allowed to make money off of me for the rest of my life. The thought of that drove me crazy.

I’ll admit it, once the fog lifted and I looked at my situation, I got pissed as hell for being so naive as to have signed such a bad deal. I was so angry with myself. And I was so resentful at my situation. That’s why I tried to hurt myself. I felt so stupid. Why wasn’t I smarter? I went from not having the fight in me to fighting mad to suicidal in a matter of months. I knew I was on a slippery slope, so I decided to stop drinking and smoking pot. I quit cold turkey. I had to fight this with a clear head and sound mind. But I couldn’t do it alone.

Alcoholics Anonymous helped me with that. It didn’t get off to a great start when I went to my first AA meeting in Brooklyn in January 2003 completely high as a kite. I was very nervous about attending this meeting so I smoked a joint before I went. It sounded like a good idea at the time, and I’m sure I wasn’t the first person to get high before a meeting. Evan didn’t notice at first. I kept it cool for the drive over. But as we settled into the metal folding chairs at the meeting and my high kicked in further, Evan caught me staring at the plate of doughnuts on the table for an inappropriate amount of time.

“Oh my God. Are you high?” he whispered in my ear.

“I’m totally wasted!” I laughed. I thought it was funny. It wasn’t.

He just had this look on his face like, “OK. I’m sorry, but the answer we’re looking for is not wasted.”

I couldn’t understand a single thing the speaker said. As the gentleman told his story about being addicted to meth, my thoughts shifted from “I wonder if there’s any coffee left?” to “Those doughnuts are probably stale but stale doughnuts are better than no doughnuts” to “My butt hurts from sitting on this chair” to “My mouth is so dry, where is the water?” to “Meth? Shit, that’s fucked up. At least I’m not on meth!”

At the end of the meeting, a guy came up to me and said, “Tera, I’m your biggest fan. Will you sign my AA book?” So much for the “anonymous” part of AA. I was creeped out and vowed to never go to a coed AA meeting ever again. My paranoid mind thought my fans were everywhere, and maybe they were. But Evan encouraged me to try a different meeting and give AA a second chance. “Maybe you’ll find fellowship at a different meeting,” he said. “Fellowship” is “friendship” in AA terms.

So the next meeting I tried was a women-only meeting on Park Avenue. I figured those “ladies who lunch” in their Chanel suits, conservative pumps, and fur coats don’t watch porn, and my identity would be safe there. I was right.

I’d never been to Park Avenue before, but when I walked into the meeting and saw such a diverse mix of women all chatting amicably in low, soothing voices, it felt nice. It felt serene. It felt safe. There were no creepy guys there to recognize me. I doubted these ladies had watched a minute of porn in their lives. I sat down next to a distinguished-looking woman with white hair, salmon-colored slacks, and a very proper blouse. It felt so Park Avenue to me, and that was a good thing. The woman immediately embraced me and said, “Hello, dear. Welcome to the Park Avenue meeting. You’re a new face. Tell us about yourself.”

Oh, great. It was nice to be welcomed, but the worst part about being new to a meeting is that you’re encouraged to “share,” and I wasn’t exactly comfortable sharing my story. I had to say something, so I started with the expected: “Hi. I’m Linda. I’m an alcoholic and addicted to marijuana.”

“Hi, Linda,” the group said in unison.

I was just going to give the basics: “I live in Brooklyn with my fiance and my stepson. I just moved here from L.A. and I don’t really know anyone. I’m just trying to get through the days.” There, I “shared.” But then something came over me. I somehow found myself pouring my heart out and sharing my whole story. These women seemed so warm and understanding to me. And I especially felt a lot of support and comfort from the white-haired woman next to me. It’s hard to describe, but I could feel her giving me strength. She was very attentive, and I could tell she was sincere. We connected. I continued on to tell the group about everything—my lawsuit, my craziness, my relationship, everything. I started out telling them a little white lie that I was a model, but by the time I was done sharing they knew all about my porn career. I feared their judgment, but they couldn’t care less. No one judged me. This was a group of women where one was a sex addict, another had a twenty-year battle with booze and drugs, another woman was sleeping with her husband’s friends, and so on and so on. Everyone had their own issues and demons, and mine didn’t seem so big after all.

After I told my story, everyone clapped. I felt oddly at home. The woman in salmon next to me officially introduced herself to me. “Hi, Linda. I’m ‘Sandy.’ So, you do porn? Well, that woman over there is married to a famous musician. And the girl over there used to be a singer….” And “Sandy” (as I’ll call her) proceeded to tell me who’s who and then she said, “You didn’t think you were the only one into sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll, now did you?” I felt relieved, and we exchanged numbers.

Sandy became a real anchor for me while I was in Brooklyn. I went to the Park Avenue meeting regularly and talked to her all the time. I liked AA, and I found peace there. And I found a new friend, one who was older and wiser. She was more experienced, had a broader outlook on the world, and put things in perspective. She was like a mother to me.

That year for my birthday I chose to celebrate it with an intimate dinner with just Evan and Sandy and her husband, who both showed up in matching salmon outfits. I still talk to Sandy occasionally to this day.

Evan was right. I found fellowship in AA. It guided me through a difficult time and helped me stop abusing alcohol and pot. I didn’t drink or get high for two years. But that didn’t mean I didn’t have other demons to deal with.

One cold February day at Evan’s loft in Brooklyn in 2003, we got a call from my attorney, and the details of the case just overwhelmed me. I lost it. I remember thinking that they had won and my life was over. I decided to end my life and end the misery I had been in. It felt easier to quit than to fight. I was so angry that I just wanted to hurt myself. All of these intense emotions came over me and I went into a rage. I don’t remember what happened next. But Evan will never forget, so I’ll let him tell the rest of this story….

Before I can explain what happened next, let me back up a bit. Leading up to her mental breakdown and suicide attempt, she was all over the map emotionally. On her good days, she was really excited to be in love and she was happy nesting in my Brooklyn loft. She kept herself busy by decorating, cleaning, shopping, and cooking for Sammy and me. When she was feeling “up,” we’d go out to parties and dinners or stay in and have sex all night.

On her bad days, the legal drama with Digital Playground would get her down and she’d spend the entire day in bed or she’d cry uncontrollably and break down, asking, “Why is this happening to me? How could I have been so stupid?” And on her really bad days, her feelings would turn into crazy, irrational thoughts and violent outbursts. It was like a switch would turn on in her head and she’d have a detached, vacant look on her face like she was looking right through me. When she got that look, when that switch turned on, there was no reaching her. She would begin to say irrational things and start accusing me of being part of the problem. I was always defending myself. Tera’s way when things got her down or when bad things happened was to lash out at those closest to her.