“This book is witness to that survival, and all the things I endured that I never told anyone because it was all too heartbreaking: the good stuff, the terrible stuff, the hilarious stuff, the shitty sad stuff. I have a degenerative disease that has probably ended my performing career, and without that, what is there to hide? And I truly believe that living in truth will liberate all of us: you, me, everyone.”

The way Applegate describes her life introduces her overarching stylistic and tonal approach. This passage acts as a distillation of her goals in the memoir: to chronicle all of the “good,” “terrible,” “hilarious,” “shitty,” and “sad” things she has experienced throughout the years. Here, Applegate also notes her recent commitment to the truth over performance and people-pleasing. The passage sets a precedent for the coming pages and conveys her forthcoming nature.

“It was just the two of us, Nancy Priddy and her daughter, Christina Applegate, alone together in Laurel Canyon. When I would come home, I’d get the same feeling as when we would go to Magic Mountain—I’d see the waterslide on the hill and know I was close to one of my favorite places in all of Southern California. My mom was always my Magic Mountain, too.”

Applegate uses descriptive and figurative language to portray her relationship with her mother, Nancy Priddy. She compares the childhood excitement she felt over seeing her mother to the excitement she felt over a trip to Magic Mountain, likening her mother to the amusement park itself. This comparison implies that Applegate was thrilled and giddy whenever she got to be with her mother—a feeling that has lasted through the years.

“Sometimes in books people fudge the details about someone, change names so that they can tell a version of the truth without fear of legal action. But Joe Lala is dead, which is an exceptionally good thing because it frees me to tell the real truth about him. You can’t defame the dead, though nothing I’m going to say is defamatory anyway. Unfortunately, it’s all true.”

Applegate’s introduction of Joe Lala on the page foreshadows his negative influence on her life. Though she extends forgiveness and empathy to other harmful figures throughout the memoir, Applegate does not attempt to mitigate her depiction of Lala as an abusive presence, using her memoir instead as a place to expose the person he really was and the havoc he wreaked in her and her mother’s lives. In doing so, Applegate is telling her truth for the first time.

“It was hard for her—my dad never paid child support, meaning there were times when we were on food stamps, and other times when we had nothing at all. So working was never a conscious decision I made; it was how we survived. I got good at it because I had to do it. I had no choice.”

Applegate’s description of her early childhood and first acting jobs introduces the theme of Work as a Refuge. Work allowed Applegate to escape her difficult home life, but on the other hand, working allowed her to support her mother. In this passage, Applegate shows little negative or positive emotion toward child acting and rather states it as a fact: It was a part of her life that she knew not to question. Her matter-of-fact tone echoes her regard for work throughout her life for years to come.

“There are times I’m still pissed about what I was exposed to as a kid. My mom and I have talked about it so many times, and I have to believe her when she says she just simply wasn’t aware. She had so much else going on that it was hard for her to see what was in front of her.”

Applegate’s reflections on her past life further the theme of the long-term effects of child abuse. She recognizes that her mother often failed to protect her, but she also sees that all the violence her mother experienced—including Lala’s abuse, economic inequality, and gender discrimination—made her daily life so difficult that she could not always be fully present for her daughter. Because Applegate loves her mother, she chooses to accept her ignorance instead of holding it against her. Even still, the passage indicates that Applegate’s adult consciousness remains impacted by her fraught childhood.

“There were no addictions in South Bend, no mean people. At least not until I was much older. No one was creepy. We’d all wear Christmas sweaters; there would be game shows on the TV. I’d wake up in the morning and find my grandmother watching General Hospital, sipping on her Folgers. I would think, ‘This is what other people do.’”

Applegate’s description of South Bend, Indiana, establishes the small, midwestern city as a symbol of peace, harmony, and protection. She describes the place through what it is not. Using negation in this way conveys how different South Bend was from Applegate’s life in Laurel Canyon. To her, the place appeared untouched by cruelty, evil, or turmoil. For some time, this setting would offer Applegate a sense of normalcy.

“I was desperate to be that ‘normal’ rebellious high schooler from all those John Hughes movies, although in my case my hair was shaved on both sides, and I was wearing combat boots, fishnets, and a pillowcase for a skirt. Instead I was always working. Even though I wouldn’t admit it at the time, I think it was work that ultimately got me through.”

Applegate’s reflections on her teenage work experiences further the theme of work as a refuge. When she was young, she longed to express herself freely in a typical adolescent manner, but her work required her to conform to professional standards. At the same time, the adult Applegate recognizes that work saved her from her personal challenges and offered her the structure she needed. Here, she again honors the positive and negative aspects of her experiences, seeking to reconcile the two.

“I don’t hold that friend responsible—after all, who knows which words we say or things we do might dramatically affect those around us? She could not have known that three words would set me on a course that would lead directly to me being unable to bask in the successes I’ve been lucky enough to have had in my career.”

Applegate attributes her negative self-esteem and self-consciousness surrounding success to an adolescent anecdote. When her friend accused her of bragging about her work, Applegate developed a complex where she lived in constant fear of being seen as conceited. Here, she traces the long-lasting effects of this incident and tries to work through them. In her typical fashion, she does not accuse her friend but instead holds that her adolescent self internalized this criticism too closely and allowed it to dictate her self-image.

“It would take me years to understand that ‘perfect’ was a chimera, a falsehood, and a life-threatening falsehood at that. That I could be a size 0 and call myself a ‘fat blob’ signaled the failure of so many things; my own ability to see clearly, my mother’s guidance, the culture of not just Hollywood but the wider world. Was it any wonder that when I looked in the mirror, I saw not beauty but the opposite?”

Applegate identifies an eating disorder she developed in adolescence as one of the long-term effects of childhood trauma. In this passage, she reflects on her disordered eating and body dysmorphia as a consequence of both the abuse she experienced in childhood and systemic misogyny in the wider culture. In doing so, she fosters awareness of eating disorders and conveys how external stories about women’s value deeply impact a young woman’s perception of herself.

“My diary from those days recounts the deepening of my self-image torture, through both prose and poetry. On TV I was playing a kind of dumb-blonde, Miss Gazzarri Dancer role, but in private I was writing poetry and dressing grungily, slathered in patchouli oil like a little hippie weirdo. In fact, my diary from 1987 reveals a sixteen-year-old who, though now increasingly famous, was still deeply conflicted, struggling, and often in emotional agony.”

Throughout the memoir, Applegate compares and contrasts her experiences on and off set. Although she was experiencing success in her acting career, her journals convey her emotional distress. Applegate uses colloquial language to describe the young woman she was, showing her sustained connection and deep empathy for her younger self. She was straddling two versions of reality and self, as her coming of age was intensified by her growing stardom.

“He was intoxicating. No one had ever treated me like this. At that point in my life things were starting to finally feel like they were turning around. I was maturing out of my childhood and into a place where I could make decisions for myself, and the deepest traumas, though stored away in my body, were nevertheless now a decade removed.”

The way Applegate describes the start of her relationship with her abusive ex-boyfriend captures how naive she was when they first began dating. She saw him as “intoxicating” and herself as “mature.” These descriptors imply that Applegate’s better judgment was clouded by her infatuation and her desire to escape her difficult childhood. At the same time, this passage forebodes the protracted abusive dynamic that Applegate would have with this man.

“The air in the car curdles. I can taste the hatred in his mouth, the stale, peevish nastiness frosting the inside of the windows. I’m trapped; my mother hasn’t heard what he’s said. If I say it out loud, what will she do: call the cops again? We had our chance, and now I’m stuck here with him. Part of me wants to calm him down, and part of me is still that little girl who’s in love with him. The rest of me is pure terror.”

Applegate uses descriptive language to convey the fear she felt during one altercation with her abusive boyfriend. She writes the scene in the present tense, which renders these past events present and palpable. Her use of language including “curdles,” “stale,” “nastiness,” “trapped,” “stuck,” and “terror” underscores the intensity of the moment in the car and her feelings of powerlessness.

“It can take more than coming face-to-face with death to get out of a traumatic relationship. It’s not rare for a woman in my situation to stay even when she had the chance to leave. Society often judges women for staying in bad relationships, but it’s not as easy as all that. I’ve lived it.”

In this passage, Applegate widens her personal experience to a broader context. After detailing the difficulties she faced with her abusive ex-boyfriend, she muses on domestic violence at large. Applegate’s experience of abuse has offered her a new perspective on “women who stay in bad relationships.” Instead of disparaging women for doing so, Applegate creates room and awareness.

“Last night at the Viper Room was a real turning point for me. I was elated and was feeling extremely close to myself…I’m happy, I realize that, even though the guilt is major…I realize how much better my life is without [my abusive boyfriend]. How free I feel. It’s wonderful. How much time I have to take care of the important things in my life.”

This excerpt from one of Applegate’s old journals conveys how important her work was to her healing and self-confidence. Shortly after she and her abusive ex broke up, Applegate began to perform at the Viper Room with The Pussycat Dolls, an experience that helped her rediscover her truer self and reconnect with her stronger, more capable nature.

“I never considered stopping the wedding—for a start, I was halfway down the aisle. I kept thinking, Don’t be that guy. Don’t be that guy. Don’t be that guy. You’re sabotaging. You’re sabotaging. You’re sabotaging. Because there I was in my custom gown. The center of this beautiful fucking wedding filled with all the perfect that you could possibly imagine. And I knew right then that this man was not it for me.”

Applegate’s admission surrounding her feelings for her first husband underscores her commitment to the truth. She does not disguise how she felt during her wedding, choosing instead to reveal the complexity of her internal experience at the time. On the one hand, she felt convinced that her husband wasn’t for her, but on the other hand, she feared that she was sabotaging herself and ruining another good thing. Her internal vacillations convey her lifelong fear of trusting herself, one of the long-term effects of childhood trauma.

“I still have scars on my feet from those nights. I loved being around that bunch of dancers, around Doug. I love dancers. I love their whole world. It is my world. Or was. I was a damn good dancer. Damn good. I wasn’t a technician, but yes, I think I could dance.”

Applegate uses simple sentences and plain language to underscore her deep love for dance and her appreciation for work as a refuge. She uses anaphora, repetition, expletives, and parallel structure, effecting an assured, declarative tone. The passage conveys the close connection that Applegate feels with this art form and how dance has historically grounded her in her authentic identity.

“This is the truth of addiction, the thing no one ever tells you until it’s too late. These facts are presented here not to be gratuitous but as a warning, as a witness, as a plea to do whatever you can to avoid this terrible fate and to help those who fall into addiction.”

After describing what happened to her ex-boyfriend Lee Grivas, Applegate widens her discussion from the particular to the universal. Grivas’s death was not something Applegate could prevent, but she can use it to spread awareness around addiction and mental health, gaining a degree of agency she didn’t have in the moment.

“Here’s how I feel about that interview now: it was bullshit. […] because there I was, talking about fucking blessings when they were going through a living hell. I was setting up a paragon that no one going through cancer could ever rightly live up to, and for what? To show that I had somehow overcome through steel and resolve?”

Applegate reflects on how she represented her cancer journey in the media. In retrospect, she recognizes that she didn’t have the maturity or the bravery to air her true experience of cancer to the world, instead reproducing a popular narrative in which the cancer patient triumphs through personal bravery and grit. Now, she understands that glossing over her pain may have disparaged other women and intensified their shame and sorrow. Her confessional, bold tone conveys her commitment to change in the present.

“My love for Martyn LeNoble is cellular. In fact, the love that I have for this man is deeper than I’ll ever be able to adequately convey. He is my family. […] Martyn and I got married on February 23, 2013, in my house […] I came down the stairs to the song ‘Save Me’ by Aimee Mann. I had suspected I could never love anyone, and yet here I was.”

Applegate’s description of her and LeNoble’s love contrasts sharply with her descriptions of her previous relationships. Describing their connection as “cellular” implies that the two are chemically linked. The idyllic scene that she paints in this passage also contrasts with how she once saw herself and her relationships in years past. Love, she implies, came when she was ready for it.

“My dad is nothing short of a miracle. The key to life is forgiveness. My father had to learn to forgive his parents, just as I had learned to forgive mine, just as I pray Sadie will one day forgive me for my failings. It’s all we’ve got.”

Applegate’s reflections on her father’s life and experience create a hopeful, empathetic tone. Instead of disparaging her father for abandoning her as a child, she creates room for forgiveness and new beginnings. Here, she presents love as a generational phenomenon that each person is responsible for furthering in their own way.

“Dead to Me is the best work I’ve ever done in my entire life—there, I said it. And you know I don’t feel comfortable talking about my achievements. (‘You’re doing it’). But the truth is, I’d been waiting for this kind of character, this moment, all my life.”

Applegate’s tone changes in this passage, conveying how she has changed as a person. Instead of minimizing the significance of her role on Dead to Me as she might have done in the past, Applegate asserts that it’s “the best work” she’s ever done and one of her proudest achievements. At this juncture in her life, and the memoir, Applegate is ready to take pride in her achievements.

“I started to cry. No one had ever stood up for me for my acting before, and here they all were. Christina, look at everyone and see that this is a moment and they are all loving on you. It was hard for me to accept it, but I hold on to it so dearly in my heart. Thank you.”

Applegate’s emotional response to her Dead to Me send-off underscores how important this work was to her. Although devastated by the end of the show, she shows gratitude for how the cast and crew appreciated her. The moment conveys Applegate’s new work to acknowledge her blessings and successes.

“All this has left me unable to be polite anymore—it’s boring and it takes too much energy. Being kind and loving and nurturing is beautiful, but to be polite is almost to lie. To be respectful is important, but there’s something about that sweet politeness demanded of women that stinks of faking our true feelings.”

Applegate’s diagnosis with MS has remade her perspective on reality. Instead of moving through life as a performance, she strives to be as real as possible. Here, she underscores the importance of truth to building real relationships. The passage effectively furthers the theme of The Impact of Chronic Illness on Identity.