In the 1990s, Heather Locklear was one of the most well-known and sought-after actors; but, in subsequent years, her star power started to decline. Does this stem from her making bad job decisions or from personal struggles?
The actress from “Money Talks” has struggled with a lot over the years, some of which have sent her to rehab several times. She has also experienced her fair share of breakups, love mishaps, and legal run-ins.
In 2018, a someone close to Locklear told Page Six, “We would hate to see that wasted because she has so much talent and beauty.” However, she faces numerous devils. She is left with no option but to resume her treatment and give it another go.
There have been many highs and lows in Locklear’s life, including heartbreaking moments when fans witnessed their idol fall from grace. The actress’s life seems to be turning around, even though she might have needed to hit her lowest point before she could rise above it.
The public has been made aware of Heather Locklear’s substance abuse issues, and it has been reported that she has sought therapy multiple times. When Locklear was admitted to a treatment center for the second time in 2019, her caregivers expressed optimism for her future, a source told People magazine.
The individual stated, “Everyone is hoping that this time will be different, but it’s difficult to predict.” The issue is that she’s simply repeating a previously learned behavior rather than trying something new. She may have attended treatment twenty or perhaps twenty-five times.
The source also highlighted how costly these programs were, and how detoxifications were often part of the treatment.
What particular problems did Locklear have? She was seeking help for issues with “alcohol, pills, and her mental health,” and the insider claimed that “she doesn’t want anybody to hold her accountable.”
There is therapy available if you or someone you know is experiencing addiction problems. Call the National Helpline of the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration at 1-800-662-HELP (4357).
Being well-known has the drawback of making any problems or infractions you may have into newsworthy stories. Every mistake an actor makes is well publicized, and every setback they experience makes for a compelling story. This also applied to Heather Locklear, whose struggles with drug abuse and mental health problems have been well-documented.
Rather than being able to handle these issues in private, Locklear’s 2008 admission to a rehab center in Arizona was made public. “There is no statement, and we will not comment about Heather’s location,” her representative said at the time to E! News.
Although she had some privacy, the article claims that she was there for about four weeks. According to reports, Locklear entered the Sierra Tucson treatment center with the intention of concentrating on her mental health.
At the time, an agent for the actress stated, “Heather has been dealing with anxiety and depression.” “She entered a medical facility for appropriate diagnosis and treatment, and she requested a thorough review of her medications.”
Heather Locklear is fortunate to have a large support network of people who genuinely care about her well-being. However, she must take full responsibility for her recovery and must have wanted to ask for assistance.
In 2018, she made headlines once more, this time around for her struggles with addiction and mental health problems as well as her purported refusal to accept support from her friends and family. Her family’s anguish was evident, and the news was terrible.
“Heather is not getting the required medical attention or mental health treatment. It takes more than just going to treatment for addiction problems. Additionally, it’s about receiving the appropriate diagnosis and care for any underlying mental health conditions, a person close to her told People. She withdraws from people, which makes the other problems worse. Naturally, you can’t make someone obtain medical care; they have to desire it, but it can be challenging for a sick person to endure and make informed decisions. Her friends and relatives are incredibly eager to help.
Positively, Locklear eventually received assistance and celebrated her first year of recovery in 2020. She expressed herself on Instagram (or, more precisely, she posted a quote that she claimed to be by Maya Angelou). Later, she promised to give hugs in the post. “One year of sobriety today!!!”
Over the years, people have kept an eye on Heather Locklear because she has been unable to evade public attention in her personal life. This covers the difficulties she encountered in attempting to manage her addiction. Fortunately, she had friends and relatives that cared about her recovery at all times.
Locklear made the decision to keep this private at the time, and while she would subsequently publicly celebrate her sobriety, she has generally been more quieter about the path she traveled to get there.
Though they didn’t seem to be close friends, Denise Richards and Heather Locklear did seem to get along. Moreover, they were neighbors. Once Richards started dating Locklear’s ex-husband, Richie Sambora, their friendship would rapidly deteriorate. However, how were Locklear and Richards acquainted? Initially, Locklear’s friend and former co-star Charlie Sheen introduced them; the two collaborated on the television show “Spin City.”
It is thought that Sambora’s divorce preceded the start of Richards and Sambora’s romance. (Sheen and Richards were also breaking up at the time.) Even so, Locklear must have been hurt by the news. “I’m sorry, but our friendship had to come to an end. Richards said to People in 2006, “The last thing I want to do is create a media frenzy like this, especially as I’m trying to get through a divorce.”
“What brought Richards and Sambora together was our friendship and the fact that we were going through divorces at the same time. “I didn’t take someone else’s spouse,” she declared to Us Weekly. “Have I dated the ex-husband of a former friend? Indeed. Did I end someone’s marriage? No. That would never have happened with Richie if Locklear and I were still friends. Before Richie and I became acquainted, our friendship had ended.
Although her career has slowed down, she has persisted in trying to make a return.
In the 1980s and 1990s, Heather Locklear was a well-known person, most known for her portrayal of Amanda Woodward on the television series “Melrose Place.” Even once the program was over, she kept getting roles, but the amount of leading roles she was cast in in the following years clearly decreased. Older actors in Hollywood are rarely treated well, but Locklear had to face her issues.
Was she ready to quit her work permanently? Nope. Locklear was ecstatic to be chosen for the 2021 television movie “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff: The Kristine Carlson Story.” Aside from having been sober for nearly two years, many viewed this as her comeback and anticipated great things from her.
In reference to her impending 60th birthday in 2021, she remarked, “I’ve always loved getting older because it means I’m alive.” I’m ecstatic. I was unable to care less. I could care less about how I look. My parents still think highly of me. My kid adores me.
My Daughter-in-Law Tossed My Things Out After Finding Out She Inherited the House, but Fate Came Back to Bite Her That Very Day
I was so certain the will reading would be a clear-cut affair without surprises. How wrong I was.
The nursing home smelled of antiseptic and faintly of wilted flowers, a combination that made my throat tighten. I took a steadying breath as a young nurse handed me Dad’s belongings, neatly packed in a plain, worn cardboard box.
“Here you are, Ma’am,” the nurse said, her voice gentle but distant as if she’d done this a hundred times.
I nodded, murmuring a quiet thank you as I lifted the box.
It wasn’t heavy, but the weight seemed to press down on me all the same. Inside were the simple things: his favorite worn sweater, a small Bible with its cover frayed from years of use, and several mystery novels with dog-eared pages.
I brushed my fingers over the sweater, catching a faint scent of his cologne, familiar and fleeting.
The finality hit me when I turned to leave.
Dad was truly gone. I tightened my grip on the box as if holding onto it could somehow keep him with me. When I reached my car, silent tears were slipping down my cheeks.
I sat in the car and cried until my tears ran out. My phone beeped and rang several times, but it was just Matt. He was probably worried about me, but some grief you have to wade through alone.
The last thing I expected to find when I arrived home was my whole life strewn across the front lawn like some kind of unholy estate sale.
The wind picked up, scattering the memories I’d so carefully packed into boxes and hauled down from the attic.
Mom’s old recipes, her china, the worn plaid quilt Dad used to nap under, and all his books — it all lay out in the open, unprotected, as if they meant nothing. I stumbled out of my car, heart pounding.
“What in God’s name…” I muttered, my voice swallowed by the wind.
“Oh, good. You’re finally back. I was getting tired of waiting.”
There, perched on my patio furniture with her designer sunglasses and her too-bright lipstick, was Jessica. My daughter-in-law didn’t even glance up from her phone. She took a leisurely sip from her coffee, and her lips curved in a barely restrained smirk.
“Jessica… What is all this?” My eyes swept over the chaos, disbelief clamping down on my chest. “What are you doing?”
She glanced up, lowering her sunglasses just enough for me to see the disdain in her eyes. She waved a manicured hand dismissively.
“I’m doing what’s necessary. This is my home now, after all.”
A cold knot twisted in my stomach. “Your home? What are you talking about?”
“Looks like you should’ve attended the will reading.” Jessica held up a crisp piece of paper, and there was my father’s signature, clear as day, at the bottom. “Guess your dad knew who deserved it most, huh?”
I swayed, gripping the car door for support. “That’s impossible. Dad would never—”
“Oh, but he did.” She smirked, casually inspecting her perfect manicure.
“Signed, sealed, delivered. The house is mine now.” She leaned in close, her perfume, a cloying, artificial scent, invading my space. “I think it’s time you moved on, Hattie.”
A truck rumbled into the driveway, and my son, Matt, climbed out, his face twisting as he took in the scene. His boots crunched over the gravel as he approached, confusion deepening the crease between his brows.
“What the heck, Jess? First you run out of the lawyer’s office, and now you send me this weird text? What’s going on?” he asked, glancing from me to Jessica, his jaw tight.
She stretched, standing at last, looking smug and at ease in her towering heels. It made my skin crawl. “Like I said, I’m making some necessary changes, honey. And actually, there’s more you should know.”
Matt’s expression hardened with a flash of something I hadn’t seen before. “More than you throwing my mother’s belongings all over the yard?”
“Much more!” Jessica’s laugh was harsh. “I want a divorce.”
The word hung in the air like the final nail in a coffin. Matt’s mouth opened, then closed as he struggled to process. “What? You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I am.” Her voice was dripping with disdain. “I’ve spent enough years suffocating in this house, being made to feel like I don’t fit in, like I’m not good enough!” She gestured at the house with a sweep of her arm. “I need a fresh start.”
“You have no right—” I started, but she cut me off with a scornful wave.
“Oh, save it, Hattie. You never wanted me in this family. You looked down on me right from the start, judging me just because I didn’t grow up with a silver spoon. Well, now I’m finally getting what I deserve out of you people.”
Matt’s face shifted from bewilderment to anger, his fists clenched. “Everything my family said about you is true,” he said, voice low and trembling. “You really are a covetous witch.”
Jessica’s veneer cracked.
“And you’re a spineless mama’s boy!” she snapped. “Always running to her defense, always putting her first.” She sneered, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at him. “It’s pathetic. You’re just as small-minded as she is.”
“Don’t you dare talk about my son that way!” My voice cut through the silence, sharper than I’d intended.
“I’ll do whatever I want, Hattie.” Jessica set her hands on her hips, her expression smug. “And there’s nothing either of you can do about it.”
“In fact,” Jessica continued. “The two of you had best hurry and clear your stuff off MY lawn, before I call the cops and have them arrest you both.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Matt yelled.
I numbly looked on as Matt confronted Jessica. None of this made sense! Dad hadn’t even liked Jessica! My hands shook as I pulled out my phone and quickly dialed Dad’s lawyer.
His voice was a balm, calm and reassuring. “Hattie? I was just about to call you.”
“… really believed I liked you?” Jessica yelled in the background. “You were just a means to an end, a way for me to leave my old neighborhood behind. Now I have the house, I don’t need you anymore!”
“Please,” I whispered to the lawyer. “Tell me she’s lying. There’s no way Dad left his home to Jessica.”
There was a pause, then a warm chuckle.
“You’re right. Your father didn’t leave her the house. It was all a test to get her to show her true colors.”
“A…test?” Relief rushed through me, and I started laughing, tears gathering in my eyes. It was the kind of laugh that came from somewhere deep, a laugh that surprised even me.
Jessica’s face twisted, her confidence faltering. “What are you laughing at?”
“Oh, Jessica,” I managed, still shaking. “You really should have waited for the real will reading.”
“What?”
I let the satisfaction roll through me as I explained. “Dad never left you the house. It was fake — a test to get you to show your true character.”
Matt turned to Jessica, his face a storm of emotions. “Looks like Grandpa’s plan worked.”
Jessica’s eyes widened. She glanced between Matt and me as the realization of what she’d done sunk in. Her confident facade crumbled, her voice turning desperate as she scrambled to save face.
“Matt — baby, please.” She reached out, but he recoiled, the finality in his eyes unmistakable.
“I swear, I never meant it!” She pleaded. “I was just…upset, frustrated. You know I love you!”
He shook his head. “Save it. You want a divorce? You’ve got one.”
As Jessica stomped off the property, her heels sinking with each step, I felt an odd peace settle over me. Dad’s wisdom lived on, a quiet, guiding presence.
Matt and I gathered the remnants of my life from the grass, and I couldn’t help thinking that sometimes the real inheritance isn’t in a house — it’s in the lessons of who truly deserves to be in your life.
Dad would have been proud.
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