From cleaning toilets and mental institution to Hollywood stardom! – Story Of The Day!

Her parents divorced when she was nine, and her mother, Jaid, began taking her into adult spaces no child should inhabit. Studio 54 became familiar territory. Drugs were not hidden from her; they were introduced. With the success of E.T. came a sense that there were no real limits.

“I really parented myself,” Barrymore later said. She has never spoken with bitterness toward her parents, but she has been brutally honest about the lack of structure in her childhood. In her own words, she wasn’t angry at them so much as disappointed in herself for having no guidance at all.

By nine, she was drinking. By twelve, she was in rehab. At thirteen, things reached a breaking point. Overwhelmed, isolated, and deeply lonely, Barrymore attempted suicide. The aftermath led to an eighteen-month stay in a psychiatric institution, where she was treated for substance abuse and mental health issues.

“When I was thirteen, that was probably the lowest,” she later reflected. “Just knowing that I really was alone.”

The institution was harsh. She wasn’t allowed to leave. Discipline was rigid and unforgiving. Yet, in retrospect, Barrymore credits that time with saving her life. For the first time, boundaries existed. Rules were enforced. Consequences were real.

“My mom locked me up in an institution,” she once said bluntly. “But it gave me discipline. I needed that insane discipline.”

After her release, she spent time living with David Crosby and his wife, who believed she needed to be surrounded by people committed to sobriety. Even then, her rebellion didn’t vanish overnight. She ran away, lashed out, and carried deep anger. But something fundamental had shifted. She began to understand how her parents’ flaws had shaped her path, and she started to take ownership of her future.

Hollywood, however, was unforgiving.

By fifteen, Barrymore was considered unemployable. By sixteen, she was cleaning toilets, waiting tables, and taking odd jobs just to survive. The industry that once celebrated her had no interest in a troubled former child star. She didn’t resent it. In fact, she embraced the humility. She remembered her father’s words: “Expectations are the mother of deformity.”

Her twenties became a period of reinvention. There were wild moments, public stunts, two marriages and divorces, and a defiant refusal to behave the way people expected her to. Dancing on David Letterman’s desk became symbolic of her refusal to be boxed in by shame or regret.

Slowly, she rebuilt her career on her own terms. Romantic comedies became her domain. Films like The Wedding Singer, Never Been Kissed, and 50 First Dates showcased a woman who blended vulnerability, humor, and emotional honesty in a way few actresses could. Audiences didn’t just watch her; they trusted her.

Motherhood reshaped her again. In 2012, after having daughters Olive and Frankie with then-husband Will Kopelman, Barrymore stepped back from acting. She wanted to be present in ways her own parents hadn’t been. She created a warm, structured, screen-free home filled with routines, shared meals, and emotional safety.

When she publicly said she didn’t believe she could “have it all at once,” the backlash was immediate — and largely from women. Barrymore clarified that she wasn’t limiting anyone else’s ambitions; she was acknowledging her own limits. Trying to do everything simultaneously, she said, would lead to poor results everywhere.