The therapy worked. I am me-Lauren all the time now (a few nightmares and maybe a trigger or two but I can deal.) My therapist, Andi, is beyond awesome. She chose to try to help a high-profile 15-year-old separate herself from the murdered four-year-old she got switched with at birth. And then be ok with that self.

I was obsessed with the idea that I could ever have done something that made the Wagners, my accidental parents, want to murder me at some point. I don't know what Andi said to them in their private sessions but she helped me learn to tell if someone is lying. It's not foolproof but it got me ready to just ask them in our third family session and be satisfied with their "No! Never! Not even close!"

Judging the Wagners' parenting skills was almost fun for a while. It could keep me from focusing on me-Lauren, which wasn't something I would have wanted to do right then anyway. I was developing a tendency to blame other people for my mistakes. Andi helped me put those mistakes in perspective. Without judging me or letting me judge myself too harshly. Here's an example: I discovered shrooms about the same time I got in a class that was easy to skip. Then I got us kicked out of our secret spot for doing them! A girl who wanted to be possessed by the same control freak I wanted to get free from showed up and said the wrong thing. I wanted to dump him not get dumped for this bitch and I lost it, got waaaay too loud. Well, at least everyone escaped but me and her. I sure AF never snitched and she hated me anyhow. But the world had changed a lot by the time I got ungrounded and I missed quite a few fun events.

So of COURSE my parents just wanted me to understand consequences, and forgiving them was the best thing to do for all of us. And I did. Because Andi may have guided me a lot but she never pushed. She knew which parts of me were ok. There are no words for how important that is. Who goes into therapy NOT thinking they'll get told every bit of themself is fucked up? Not me for real. So I told Andi a few things I had only told Emma just to get her reaction, and she seemed to see them from almost the same perspective. Like how I felt when I only made cheerleader because the better girl fell off a horse and broke her arm the week before tryouts. And how I might not have needed a math tutor if I'd tried just a liiiitle harder.

So many things I'd cared about Before seemed trivial. After, I had a hard time giving a fuck about how I looked, but me-Lauren used to obsess about every detail from the top of my head (they only let me use temporary color) to the ends of my polished toenails. When I said I didn't understand why it had ever mattered, Andi said having all the choices about how to present myself might be very affirming in a way that some women need. Yup. So I started caring again, but more mindfully. Like was I pleasing me-Lauren, or competing with anyone, or just making some old guy rich?

I won't say it was easy to survive this asteroid-hit-level catastrophe in my life. There were a lot of what-ifs that went along with why-not-me. I-Lauren, Andi, and my parents (it hasn't felt weird to call them that for a long time now) discussed lots of possibilities about what could have happened to Becca. The broken bones were apparently pretty fresh so could it have been an accident, maybe one of the parents ran over her and knew they'd be in trouble? Was she tortured in other ways and WHY? Charred bones with only a few unburned head hairs can't tell very much. (Thank the Intelligence that watches and tries to run this earth that she probably had no siblings.)

Thinking about these things made me truly sick sometimes but comparing her possible life to mine helped me see that I've had it pretty good in all the important ways. Not just physically, but that I would have been a decent adult even if I hadn't found all this out. My older brother, all focused on college when It Happened, never stopped being his sweet protective self toward me. My several true friends kept their original great personalities even though some of my Five Hours of Fame rubbed off on some of them. Yes, it hurt like hell to lose a True (teehee) Love; no grief is ever anything but almost unbearable. But that kid, gentle romantic that he was, couldn't handle a future with me.

My house is still comfortable even if I hate the color of every single room but mine. (I feel safe there like I did Before, don't lock my door against The Wagners.) I still love to bake brownies with Mom and Dad is teaching me to drive. My parents always let me make a lot of my own choices....Like we were in this go-to State-or skip-college battle. I wanted to skip and be a massage therapist. Then I found some tech things I missed learning in high school that our community college can teach me if I show up in person. That sort of compromise suits us all. I'm not ready to present myself to thousands of strangers (and maybe I'm making up for the time I missed being a kid.)

No, we will probably never know the circumstances of Becca's life. The people who birthed me did a REALLY good job of disappearing. But I do know one thing for sure about her death. However it happened, and why, it wasn't supposed to happen to me. I AM The Lucky One.