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Writing the book helped her make sense of everything.
"The reason for writing this book was to figure out what had happened," she recalls "How did I accumulate all of this incident and drama? I didn't come into the book with an attitude about my life except that it seemed to be a series of failures and catastrophes and things that I had tried to repair. First I thought, These are 'moral tales from the world of chic.' Here's this gorgeous world, but this sort of karmic shit keeps happening."
What stood out to her was what she had discovered at the rehab: She'd lived under the influence of illusion. "Illusion cost me everything," Buck says.
The book—heartfelt, candid, humorous—has helped her regain her footing, but in unexpected ways. "Strangers are opening up to me," she says "I didn't know that if you opened your heart, people would open theirs."
She's now writing personal essays for Harper's Bazaar and working on a collection of them, in her office in the library.
Although she still has the soul of a nomad, she says she's enjoying life in the Hudson Valley. "I had this longing to be outside of New York City in a village, in beauty, on a train line," she says. "I have no idea where home is. But one thing I know: When I'm coming back here from the city in a car with somebody, on the train just after Poughkeepsie, I get this feeling of aaaahhh..."