From Here to the Great Unknown

by Lisa Marie Presley

She didn’t want to gain pregnancy weight. She thought that wouldn’t be a good look for her as Elvis’s wife. There were so many women after him, all of them beautiful. She wanted his undivided attention. She was so upset that she was pregnant that initially she’d only eat apples and eggs and never gained much weight. I was a pain in her ass immediately and I always felt she didn’t want me. I believe in energy in utero, so maybe I already felt her vibe of trying to get rid of me.

My mom fundamentally felt she was broken, unlovable, not beautiful. There was a profound sense of unworthiness in her, and I could never really figure out why. I’ve spent my whole life trying to work out the answer. My mother was an incredibly complicated person and deeply misunderstood.

I felt like I was her trophy. She wanted a cotillion for me. I didn’t even know what that was, but she always wanted one. She wanted me to go to finishing school. I felt like she should have gotten a different daughter. It was about how things looked—the way things appeared seemed more important than feelings. My mom would never allow herself to lose control. Everything was all in its place.

If you don’t have something to keep you focused, or some kind of purpose, it’s hard out there. Life is not easy. Who doesn’t want to be high? Drugs or drinking make you feel great.

You have to have something bigger, bigger than that feeling of being high, bigger than that happiness, bigger than that emptiness. If you don’t, you’re in trouble.

She was always extremely honest, but I think she felt that being honest was the virtue rather than the changing of her behavior. Since she had admitted it to us, the honesty seemed to give her the license to continue with her addiction.

Eventually she realized that moving to England hadn’t been such a good idea. She had distanced herself from all of her friends, and the drug use had increased along with the loneliness and isolation. Or she needed to be alone to take the drugs. Or both.

They make the physical addiction to the body—but the root of the addiction comes from being really unhappy. That’s a spiritual problem.

I believe that we’re all born innocent, and that everyone’s nature is innately good, but they get fucked by their surroundings. And I believe that my brain is different, that I am an addict. Otherwise I wouldn’t have had all those years in between being a stupid teenager to suddenly getting a drug habit at forty.

People have misconceptions about suicide. I always thought if someone is talking about it, they won’t do it.

This was a huge lesson for me—the only way out is through. You must allow pain in to free yourself from it.

The loss of my brother made me understand how two things, maybe more than two things, can be true at the same time.

Learning to hold joy and suffering and indifference and hope simultaneously.

“Does it lessen? Does it get any better?” The answer is no. Today I might be able to take a shower and not think about it, tomorrow I could be crying in the shower. Grief is always there.