Not Afraid of Life: My Journey So Far

269 Pages·2011·4.83 MB·English

by  Bristol Palin

Not Afraid of Life
My Journey So Far
Bristol Palin
with Nancy French
Dedication
To all you underdogs It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out
how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better.
The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred
by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short
again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcomings, but
who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a
worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high
achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring
greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who
knew neither victory nor defeat.
—Theodore Roosevelt
Contents
Dedication
Introduction
Chapter One
Where It All Began
Chapter Two
First Impressions
Chapter Three
Losing It
Chapter Four
Not Like Other Families
Chapter Five
Failing the Test
Chapter Six
Van Palin and Other Surprises
Chapter Seven
Unconventional
Chapter Eight
Looking the Part
Photos
Chapter Nine
Sinking In
Chapter Ten
Not Picture Perfect
Chapter Eleven
Already Ben There
Chapter Twelve
Home
Chapter Thirteen
Home Is Where the U-Haul Is
Chapter Fourteen
There’s Plenty of Fish in the Sea
Chapter Fifteen
Shaking What My Momma Gave Me
Chapter Sixteen
Seeing Things Clearly
Acknowledgments
About the Authors
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
Introduction
I
lied to my mother.
“We’re going to go stay the night at Ema’s house,” I nonchalantly said as my
friend and I headed toward the front door. Mom was busy paying bills and didn’t
really look up from her work. There was only one week left of school, and the
weather was warming up in the Matanuska-Susitna Borough.
“Okay,” she responded, not suspecting a thing. “Do you need me to drop you
off?”
“No,” I said. “Her mom’s in a hurry, but she’s going to pick us up at the end
of the driveway.”
“Have fun,” she said casually and waved good-bye.
That deception would affect my life in ways a teenager could not comprehend.
It changed my relationship with my parents, my boyfriend, and even God. It
would eventually cause me public embarrassment on an international scale and
cause many sleepless nights.
But I didn’t know that at the time.
On that day, my friend and I believed we were getting away with a harmless
high school lie. Usually I have a very sensitive conscience, even to the point that
I can’t leave a store without fixing a messed-up clothes rack. I think, I’m going
to fix these or some overworked employee is going to have to do it later and
she’s probably already done it a million times today. But on that morning, my
conscience wasn’t even really pricked. Apparently, the excitement of seeing
Levi outweighed any anxiety I felt about lying to my mom. So, we toted our
bags down to the end of the long gravel driveway, jumped in his red pickup
truck, and left without any sort of guilt.
As we drove away from my house, I drove away from the ease of childhood
and smack into the middle of the weird complexities of serious relationships
ideally reserved for later in life. We drove for about an hour, deep into the Point
MacKenzie area that is sparsely populated with almost perpetual sunlight during
the summer months. We loved it because of its amazing wildlife and natural
beauty. My friend and I couldn’t imagine a more exciting night than hanging
with our friends in such a setting. In the back of Levi’s truck were tents, sleeping
bags, firearms for protection against wildlife, and lots of alcohol.
I never drank—in fact, I knew nothing about anything bad really . . .
especially the differences between vodka, beer, and whiskey. I didn’t know that
the girly flavored wine coolers were just as likely to get you drunk as the hard
stuff, even though they went down so smoothly. And I definitely had no idea
what “tolerance” was or how to pace your drinking to make sure you don’t do
things you’ll regret. All I knew was that I was with my ruggedly handsome
boyfriend who loved me—and we were getting away with a late-night camping
trip without anyone ever finding out.
In fact, no one has ever heard this part of my story. By now, most of America
knows me as Bristol Palin, the teenager who got pregnant right before her
mother was asked to run for vice president on the GOP ticket with Senator John
McCain. But what no one really knows is my story—the true story—of
deception and disappointment that began the night I lied to my mother and went
camping in Point MacKenzie.
We got there around six o’clock. Levi and his friends immediately built a fire
and put up the tents by the lake. The tent my friend and I brought was blue, and
had just enough space for both of us to squeeze in for a good night’s rest.
However, I didn’t end up sleeping in that tent.
The wine coolers tasted sweet, and I slowly surrendered to their woozy
charms. I felt young and carefree, and Levi kept replacing my empty bottles
from his large stash. The more I drank, the better the crisp night air felt. But
unbeknownst to me, I was about to hit a wall—that awful wall—that takes you
past a comfortable level of libation—the happy buzz—into the dark abyss of
drunkenness.
I remember sitting in one of those folding camping chairs, laughing with
friends by the fire.
What I don’t remember is what transpired between the moment when I was
sitting there by the fire talking and the moment I awakened the next morning
with something obviously askew. Mosquitoes were buzzing around my ears and
my head throbbed like someone was using it as a drum. Levi’s empty sleeping
bag was right beside mine, and I could hear him outside the tent laughing as he
and his friends packed up the camp.
I fumbled around for my phone and found it in a pile of clothes on the side of
the tent.