Chap­ter 36 reflects a peri­od of growth and reflec­tion as I nav­i­gat­ed the com­plex­i­ty of my career, per­son­al life, and the ongo­ing con­trol of the con­ser­va­tor­ship. One of the things that gave me solace dur­ing my time in Vegas was teach­ing dance to chil­dren. Once a month, I would teach a group of forty kids, and in LA, I would teach every cou­ple of months. The sim­plic­i­ty and joy of being around kids who were full of ener­gy and had no judg­ment was heal­ing. Their pure ener­gy and eager­ness to learn felt like a breath of fresh air, espe­cial­ly in a time when every­thing in my life was con­trolled and judged. Being in their pres­ence remind­ed me of what it felt like to be tru­ly free, to express myself with­out fear of crit­i­cism or restric­tion. It was one of the few things I felt I could con­trol and enjoy dur­ing a time when most of my life was dic­tat­ed by oth­ers.

How­ev­er, despite the heal­ing I felt teach­ing the kids, my per­son­al life con­tin­ued to be fraught with dif­fi­cul­ties. My desire for auton­o­my clashed with the real­i­ty of the con­ser­va­tor­ship, and I began to feel more and more trapped. I tried to assert myself, mak­ing small push­es to regain con­trol, like ask­ing for a lawyer or speak­ing out about my father’s behav­ior. In 2014, I even went to court, bring­ing up my father’s alco­holism and errat­ic actions, and ask­ing for a drug test. But despite my efforts, noth­ing changed. The judge ignored my plea, and the sys­tem that con­trolled me remained intact. My attempts to speak up and regain con­trol seemed to be met with resis­tance at every turn, leav­ing me feel­ing help­less and unheard.

Around this time, my per­son­al life also suf­fered. After a fight with my then-part­ner Char­lie, we stopped speak­ing, both too pride­ful to make the first move toward rec­on­cil­i­a­tion. It was a sil­ly argu­ment, but the emo­tion­al toll of the con­ser­va­tor­ship affect­ed every aspect of my life. This per­son­al tur­moil led me to work close­ly with two song­writ­ers, Julia Michaels and Justin Tran­ter. Writ­ing music became my escape, my way of recon­nect­ing with myself. It was the one thing in the past thir­teen years that tru­ly reignit­ed my pas­sion. Writ­ing songs, espe­cial­ly for the Glo­ry album, gave me con­fi­dence. I felt a sense of pride in the work I was cre­at­ing, some­thing I hadn’t felt in years. The process remind­ed me of my tal­ent, and when the album was done, I was eager to share it with my kids. Their reac­tion to the album, espe­cial­ly Sean Preston’s sug­ges­tion to name it Glo­ry, was one of the few moments dur­ing this time that made me feel tru­ly proud.

The release of Glo­ry marked a turn­ing point, as I start­ed to feel more in con­trol of my music and image. I per­formed for the first time in years at the 2016 VMAs, and the expe­ri­ence was exhil­a­rat­ing. The chem­istry with Hesam Asghari, whom I met on the set of my “Slum­ber Par­ty” video, also began to bring a spark back into my life. Despite the tabloid rumors, we grew close, and for the first time in a long while, I felt like I was begin­ning to find some­thing real again. But even as things in my per­son­al life began to feel more pos­i­tive, my father’s influ­ence remained a con­stant bar­ri­er. When I began tak­ing over-the-counter ener­gy sup­ple­ments, my father decid­ed to send me to treat­ment again, believ­ing that I had a prob­lem. This deci­sion fur­ther cement­ed my feel­ing that I had no con­trol over my life, even when I was try­ing to make pos­i­tive changes.

The treat­ment plan he set for me was rigid and oppres­sive. While I attend­ed Alco­holics Anony­mous meet­ings as part of my out­pa­tient treat­ment, I found inspi­ra­tion in the women I met there. Their sto­ries were pro­found, and the con­nec­tions I made with them were some of the most mean­ing­ful I had expe­ri­enced. But even in AA, my auton­o­my was lim­it­ed. The oth­er women could pick and choose which meet­ings to attend, but I was stuck with the same meet­ings at the same time every week. This lack of flex­i­bil­i­ty mir­rored the con­trol my fam­i­ly and the con­ser­va­tor­ship had over every aspect of my life. Even when I want­ed to stay home with my kids after a long series of shows, my father insist­ed that I attend my meet­ing. The feel­ing of being con­trolled by him grew stronger, and I began to see him as the leader of a cult, with me as his cap­tive. Despite every­thing, I had per­formed to the best of my abil­i­ty, and I knew that I had exceed­ed expec­ta­tions. Yet, it seemed like no mat­ter how great I was, it was nev­er enough to break free.

This con­stant strug­gle for free­dom, both in my per­son­al and pro­fes­sion­al life, left me feel­ing exhaust­ed and iso­lat­ed. I worked hard to please every­one around me, but the real­i­ty was that my own needs were always over­looked. I began to real­ize how unfair it was that, despite my tal­ent and efforts, I remained trapped. The sys­tem that was meant to pro­tect me had only served to con­trol me, leav­ing me feel­ing help­less. But even in the midst of this, the release of Glo­ry and the sup­port from those who tru­ly cared about me gave me a glimpse of hope. The path to free­dom was still unclear, but the spark of my true self was start­ing to re-emerge.