book is dedicated to my mother, Hildegard. Her constant love, fierce loyalty, and utter devotion have taught me that a mother’s love is truly incomparable. You are my best friend, my ballast, and the love of my life, Mama.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1: Under the Influence
Chapter 4: Bastards and Billionaires
Chapter 6: Blood, Death, and Taxes
Chapter 7: The Right Hand of Vengeance
Chapter 10: The Monster’s Gambit
Chapter 11: White Buffalo Medicine
Chapter 12: The Fall of Babylon
Chapter 13: (Last) Resort Rehab
Chapter 14: God Save Belinda Blowhard
INTRODUCTION
No one sets out to become an addict.
When you’re a kid and people ask what you want to be when you grow up, you imagine yourself as a doctor or a teacher (or if you’re five-year-old me, as an actress or the dictator of a small country), something that involves helping people and making the world a better place. You never consider that one day you’ll find yourself sitting at a bus stop on Coldwater Canyon as the morning traffic passes by, your hands shaking as you try to get the vodka-spiked orange juice past your lips. You don’t imagine that you’ll be close to death in a detox clinic with a total loss of muscle function, dehydrated and hallucinating. No parent gives you advice on how to survive the long walk to the liquor store when the cupboard is dry, though you develop strategies. You ration out sips of vanilla extract (35 percent alcohol) and pray that it will prevent a seizure. It keeps the contents of your stomach down and your shaking legs from buckling under you.
You don’t see that coming; I sure didn’t when I followed my dream to pursue an acting career in Hollywood. I’d left behind a family wracked by a tragic loss, was betrayed by the people I loved most, and survived a horrific rape. By the time I was eighteen, I was working on shows like Dallas and Falcon Crest and earning a six-figure income. The Hollywood I found myself caught up in was a whirlwind of beauty, wealth, and power. I made out with stars like George Clooney, Kelly LeBrock, and Rob Lowe in the hottest hotels and clubs in L.A. and New York, rejected William Shatner, traveled the world on private jets and super yachts with lovers like Dodi Fayed, and, in my breakthrough role as Commander Susan Ivanova on Babylon 5, found millions of fans. My life has been one of extremes. The bounty of love and encouragement from family, friends, and fans is in sharp contrast to the unexpected mix of stalkings, shootings, and betrayals.
By the time I found myself at that bus stop, I was beyond caring if anyone recognized me. The self-aware Claudia was still there inside me, sitting in judgment in the back of my brain, but she wasn’t running the show. In the late 1980s I starred in The Hidden, a cult classic sci-fi movie. My character is possessed by an alien who steals human bodies to disguise its presence. That was the state I’d reached with my drinking; it was as if another person had taken me over and all I could do was look on like a bystander at a traffic accident.
It took me out of my house at 4 a.m., not caring that Ralph’s grocery store couldn’t start selling liquor until 6. It had no problem making me stand around for hours, killing time while I waited to buy (or if it wasn’t locked up—steal) the first bottle of the day.
I used to camp out at Ralph’s. I’d buy bottles of stuff I didn’t even like to drink—Grand Marnier, crème de menthe, Drambuie—just so I could tell the checkout clerks that I was making a soufflé and throw them off the scent. One time some pimple-faced kid, half my age, gave me a patronizing smile and said, “A little early for this, isn’t it?” He was right; I left the store mortified. I’d get in my car, twist the
