I’m working in Istanbul, and I’m going to consciously uncouple with my mother, I think, which is hilarious to me, but I think that’s what I’m going to do. I have a mother now, one of these funny statements I could make. It’s not so much that I don’t love her, it’s more that I worked out a lifetime of unconscious drivers, so I’m think I’m going to just restructure that, because it’s not easy for me. I didn’t go through foster care. And technically, there was nothing wrong with my father, according to her, though I said many times that his doctor diagnosed him when I was ten, which HE TOLD ME, the doctor, and I had the same problem with my cousins. It drove me fucking mad. So, no offense, from my perspective, given how much that put me through??? How much my parents put me through? Why should I want to speak to people who have a hard time with the truth of it?
This — Maria being the problem here — eliminated. What the man did not have EYES? He could not see that I wasn’t in uniform? I don’t even think the man bought me uniforms after the first year, lol. Hilarious, I had a hilarious time reopening my actual childhood, that is, the one I spent with him, though I tried to avoid the situation completely. “What was it like living with a man denying his dementia?” Well, not pleasant. I just don’t know what to say about the discrepancies, he had Parkinson’s and then it was Alzheimer’s 10 years later, and his primary physician, Amy Jackson Lewis my witness, YELLED at me on the phone — I mouthed to Jackson Lewis what was being told to me on the phone, because I had to deal with so much goddamn disbelief.
“What are you TALKING ABOUT? Alzheimer’s? NO!!! Parkinson’s!!!” Why was he so upset? Because he tried to get my father to take appropriate action, apparently, and he didn’t. And look, THE DEGREE TO WHICH THE MAN DENIED HIS DEMENTIA, made that statement so shocking, that I was unable to even process that.
I said he was sick, and if you think about it, it’s pretty obvious. I know who my parents are now as he exhibited a strange dysfunction, I’m sorry. He’s sitting on the periphery of this New Jersey Rockefeller living room, a white dream, goddammit, sort of pitying himself, this, and sort of laughing, the guy was sick. “Do you know why,” he said to me, “I let you run around in these different families?” Heed my father words. As if I were having an affair. “Because I pity you.” And of course, I blew up, I said “you only pity yourself.” Because I don’t have a mother.
Look, Obama my touchstone, lol, “get over it man.” His delusional crap about me not having a mother… was ridiculous! I cannot STAND these obsessions people have with this figure — the mother, like, it’s not helpful. He pitied me because I did not have a mother so that’s why he let me “run around in these different families.” So as you can see, between me and my family, this guy, this “other family thing” wasn’t exactly a positive point between us. And now what? Drove me nuts, Nick, he drove me nuts. I don’t know if other people can relate, to be frank, other people who “didn’t have a mother,” if they had to deal with this shit. Was I cute? Particularly cute?
Jesus, I’m looking at Barbara Harris like — is there a connection here??? Can’t keep it in your pants, ladies? I was a child, a teenager, Jesus Christ, I couldn’t get away from this shit.
So all that — I’m trying to tell people, like this is a sign of HEALTH, I worked it out, it might have been STORMY, but I worked it out. I did not need ALL THESE FAMILIES. I did not need HELP, community, I HAD ONE. I HAD PEOPLE. You see? You might want to take stock of what you have, and what you’re concentrating ON, as I grew up in particular circumstances. That’s the advice I did not receive.
Look, to be totally honest, now? Where I am now. I would have dragged my parents to court, like I gave a shit, at eight. “What the hell is this? I was in a sex scandal!” I’m sorry, I couldn’t pretend like that didn’t happen, and would I be wrong? I’m not the type that’s going to PROTECT my family in this case. I’m not American, in this sense, I am Neapolitan — and NEAPOLITANS would SEE that. Of course I would blow at my parents. It would be a dark day for them. Absurd. We’re revolters, we cannot help that, we’re going to revolt if we smell tyranny. And in that case, the crowd will back me up.
So I’ve stepped out, I’ve taken my space, because the fact that I ended up in another family that got super complicated — bore into my skin. And I went on my journey. I asked HER if I could introduce her as my mother, who I call “The Sun,” as she chose to show up in that way, but of course, she’s been mothering since she was seven, and now, I wouldn’t have done that. I would have introduced her as a close family friend, and I would have probably kept that a friendship, strictly. Originally, she was just trying to… support someone who didn’t have a mother? Right. This fucking — thing.
I’m thinking about a single dad I know, like if I had all these mothers, or I was hanging out in different families, a lot, wouldn’t he — say, yeah, no. It’s a little weird. We’re good, no? I mean, Jesus man, my father could have killed it — killed it on the dating scene, single-dad, rocking it, and I’m laughing. He needed a nicer car, I said it to him, there was no use in beating around the bush. “You gotta get a nicer car.” He got sensitive. “Look, dad,” putting on my shades, desiring to be an actress, having gotten out of an agent meeting, “You gotta get a nicer car, it’s just the way the world works.” But he was who he was, and that situation I was in — infuriated me. He was sick. If I had known, if he had said “I’m sick, okay, I have a disease,” if he was able to admit that, this would have GONE DIFFERENTLY. Everyone would have known, we might have gotten him some support there, but of course, I have no idea if he was on meds, nothing. That was not fun.
Out of nowhere, I was twelve, watching the Discovery Channel, and lionnesses were crouching down in the plains of Africa, and my father randomly came to the railing. “Get over here, now,” he insisted. “Right now.” He pointed down. “Why?” I asked, suspiciously. “Get over here now.” I got up, in my St Jerome’s red and grey PE uniform. “Uh huh,” I climbed onto the couch, and the man put three raw almonds in my hand. “Eat three almonds a day,” he assured me, “and you’ll be healthy for the rest of your life…” and I had these almonds in my hand, and he got weird… he had dementia, something, but of course, nothing was wrong with him… something was wrong with me.
And in the end, if you can imagine the anger? He had a disease. I was right. Now that might be the disease talking, but guess what? From 4-8 I was living with Angelica Leibowitz because my mother said he was a child molester, okay??? So these are parents. I’m clear on who they are. It’s like they were totally subsurface, but the adopted narrative sort of masked them, and no one I spoke to, at any point, and I’m talking therapists, I’m talking people who were supposed to assist me with my problems, SAW THAT. So once you work that out, it’s not the same world.
I’m telling you, the mother was a DICEY figure in my life — stay away. I’m fine. The motherless child syndrome, I’m telling you, for me, it just got mixed up. My father was SICK. Not having a mother was the least of my issues.
I felt, honestly, like I just needed a rock solid psychologist. That’s it. In my youth… into adulthood… all good here. Someone who wasn’t going to get affected. Sure, I didn’t want to get married, have kids, but now, I wish I had six. I don’t give a shit about conformity, I had enough non conformity. And my mother? Speaking of family systems. She was a nightmare. That lineage was a nightmare. Bowen, Murray Bowen, inventor of family systems therapy, he would allow me the SPACE to get angry, you see. “This is good.” Holy moly, wrapping a four year old in a sex scandal — yikes. That’s a major yikes. “Good,” you see, I didn’t quite make THAT connection. “How dare she?”
We’re a touch outside the norm, though it’s hilarious to read Elizabeth Gilbert’s reaction to her almost killing her lover—”whatever.” But it’s over, now. So at this point, I’m sort of over secrecy, as there’s soooooo much history between us, don’t you think? It’s a bit too touch.
It’s taken me a second to adjust to— a world shift.
So I look at my mother now, and I get angry, because the other family thing was a — a maladaptive pattern. WHERE did this work for me? It didn’t. I didn’t want to get another family, not consciously. I want to go find a man, if I can, who I can date, that’s it. Not that I didn’t, but it’s like, I officially entered this third family around the thirty-year-old mark? WHY? Why was that necessary? You see what I mean? I was thirty. I don’t know what to say about what’s normal, okay, or whatever, at this point, but think about the movie about what happened…
What would people say? I don’t know. It was a touch confusing for me. “She became a mother to us because we both came from unfortunate backgrounds?” I couldn’t get away from the motherless child syndrome. I don’t think that this worked, for me, personally. I think some people might not care that much, or something, like they just take what’s there… but this set up doesn’t work for me.
The same applies with my second surrogate mother. The same goes — across the board. I didn’t need that. No “like a mothers,” no more other mothers. No. So that’s where I’m at as a person. Dr. J — I see you. I see who you are. I see you never paid child support. I see you never SHOWED up. Now, to a Neapolitan? We’re confronting you most definitely. We’re driving to your house. That’s the sort of support I needed. She was my mother. But she was also mentally ill, but she works, doesn’t she? Is she diagnosed? Would she be mentally ill in a court of law? I probably could have sued her. “What you ain’t sober now? You can’t pay child support?” Just please.
I was avoiding my father who diagnosed with a disease, and look, in my case, looking at the STORY, what actually happened, that’s what you’re WISHING was the case, you HOPE he only had dementia. The whole mess of it, it was a touch too enabling. Okay, so, I clarified some points on my end. There was way too much sentiment. And regardless, I can’t go back to way things were. I don’t even know what happened in my family, to be frank with you, and I can’t exactly rely on my mother now at all, so I don’t feel like putting on a MASK, and no I don’t feel like talking. I understand that some people don’t have the best relationships with their family, and I am one of them.
Like, I have to picture the adopted family I am SORT OF apart of, as if I should settle for that? All things considered? Imagine all of us in a family therapy setting. That would be the only way I would stay involved, quite frankly. So, let’s air out the issues. So, to the therapist, and it would have to be one of color. “Imagine some woman you barely knew in high school is suddenly your sister…would you have an easy time with that?” I suppose it would depend. And it’s not so much that I didn’t appreciate how she embraced me, but I was living in France, still unable to get stable, you know? I always had problems, structurally. “And then my ex brother, right there, he was in love with me? Never saw me as his sister?” Could this therapist understand me? “Shall we continue? Because there’s more.”
So, I tried to separate, which might make sense to a therapist. “Like, haven’t I been through enough?” And it’s not even like I’m saying that to cue the violins, I’m saying that, as a simple statement. “Why would I remain involved?”
It’s a touch too weird, not because I was really his sister, that’s the POINT.
So no, I don’t want to hear anything about him, literally nothing. I do not want to hear a word. “Why not we continue therapist? Let’s talk about what happened? Any takers? Anyone want to GUIDE US through this family system?”
Whenever I talk to her, I get angry, because in a group therapy room, this family would appear very different than they think they appear. Once you air out the whole picture. So it’s like, right now? I don’t even want to talk to her. To any of them. But I don’t talk to most of them. So the Mami talk, the mother talk, it just doesn’t work for me. In time, as I need time, I’ll restructure that, I think. I’m in such a different place as a person, that the old story —
It just doesn’t not exist. But you know, what they say, sometimes, just making a little change can actually do the whole some good. So I think I’m going to dismantle the “mother thing.” I can speak about needing to consider a structure, I can break this down 100% structurally. Psychology to me is structure. That’s my in. She wants to have patty cake bakers man conversations, which is fine, but that’s not the mother I want, if that makes sense, that’s a friend, no? Like, I had to become a mother, you see, to myself, it was imperative. And I do not agree with my mother, this one, at all. So I feel like I raised myself, that’s a mother. And my sister, this situation evidently works for her, she’s happy, she’s there, she’s totally integrated. She’s “the best daughter ever,” so my mother now considers her to be her daughter. I do not feel like that’s our relationship because this didn’t work for me.
I don’t want another mother.
That doesn’t change what this mother means to me, but I’m going to need some time—space. I did not have to get another family. That was unnecessary. You understand? If I had seen someone in college, a psychologist, if I had made that a priority, I might have gone, “okay, I need to dismantle this structure,” thoughtfully, I don’t want to be in the New Jersey family like that. My cousin’s wife? She didn’t need to buy my dormroom. You see? Where was my father? No offense, I’m not missing that. So she had more money than my father? Is that what I’m gathering? So why did I pay her 40k? I couldn’t handle that she helped me with the paperwork, I couldn’t handle that he was sick the whole time, and I’m driving to the home, in her car, wondering what the fuck is going on? When my father got sick, and he couldn’t hide it anymore, that New Jersey family started — looking a little scary. What am I doing here? NO offense, but I wasn’t exactly a fan of Aunt Jane claiming me as her daughter, finding myself in a complicated scenario, even if it wasn’t complicated FOR YOU, them. I don’t totally buy that, actually, as my second surrogate mother visibly seemed to not know what to do. It was a little weird. I came out of a totally weird scenario, and I think my second surrogate mother, or my cousin’s wife, she would understand me… like, how crazy is that? I ended up in another family — again! Angelica Leibowitz? The Brazilian mother — she’s saying, “wow.”
“Imagine? I have a Mexican mother now?”
Why was that necessary? Again, me, I’m the one who got close to her, I think, I said this is my mother… as she took on a role. She came to New York to visit me, even. But I had another mother, also, during that time. Look, from the perspective of my friends, they never understood my family. Never. And when you think about it, when I break it down succinctly, it makes sense. My parents were ill. These scenarios sort of masked that. My father needed help. He needed someone to see something was wrong. Not ME, you see. I didn’t need HELP. He did.
My psychologist wanted to take me out of my house when I was twelve. Just to say. And sometimes, I wish I really took her up on that offer. That would have solved a lot. But I didn’t. I say that because she believed in me as an artist, so she probably would have tried to set up my life that way. And if he was diagnosed, found out, all that, he might have done better, we might have done better, as he had the money to care for himself, though the market went up and down. I could have still seen my cousins. If he was just sick, you see, cool, that’s what I’m trying to ASSESS. I’m trying to assess if I went through any revelatory experiences around abuse, with a specialist who supports me in asking that question.
The man stood in some woman’s door watching his daughter, me, put on “Spectacular Spectacular” from Moulin Rouge? So exciting the audience will stomp and cheer! That’s what I’m doing at four with ANOTHER mother’s daughter, Brazilian, and if you can IMAGINE looking at this family therapist, “every white person, for the love of God, and it includes ITALIAN, as my sister doesn’t see me as white, imagine? Everyone confused these two countries! And these white people are going to tell ME that it isn’t true when everyone south of the border is nodding, like, people always do that.” A Brazilian mother took care of me because my mother accused my father of being a sexual threat to me. The family therapist is asking me right away, “is it true?” Trust me, I’ve been here before. “I DO NOT KNOW.”
“THEY — these two, the mother and sister, a little team here—THEY DON’T THINK SO…”
And the family therapist would be like, “why do you think that?”
“Here we go… tell the therapist…”
They would finish. “What do you say?”
And I would continue.
“Now,” I would asked, “wouldn’t you think that would be hard?” To the therapist. “Wouldn’t you imagine I might be a mess? If I was struggling with this question?” Understandable, no? “Yet these women they’re talking behind my back, about their FLIMSY concern over my mental health issues,” when — I’m about to blow, no? “I do not know if my father abused me! ANGELICA LEIBOWITZ, the Brazilian mother, didn’t even know how my mother handled me, you understand?” So excuse me, “your concern, you can shove it up your ass.”
“Therapist? Any thoughts?”
“Please, help us.”
“Now, let’s talk about what’s happened in this family and if the same CONCERN was directed to some of the other members of this family?”
“Was that fair?”
“My sister called you a psychopath, we got those messages, our mother and I.”
When I confronted my father as an eight year old, why he didn’t just take me home man? He said, “you hated me,” he said, “and I didn’t know why…”
“So exciting the audience will stomp and cheer!” Picture me jumping on my feet, skipping and interlocking arms with this woman’s daughter, because it was basically on that level. It was a goddamn jubilee. So his response is troubling, no? Okay? the man had dementia, something, okay? Because if you picture a man… coming home from a work trip… coming home to find his daughter living somewhere else, and he DID NOT KNOW WHAT WAS BEING SAID ABOUT HIM, his response was deranged. Calling a woman’s house, not even asking for me, but YOU KNOW PUTTING ON A SHOW OF HOW NICE HE IS, HOW HARMLESS. And she’s SMILING, PLAYING ALONG, in ALL CAPS, as TWO CAN PLAY THAT GAME. THEN, he requests to visit. And then, I could continue… as I was in this situation for FOUR YEARS. "What do you think the family therapist would say to me? With my adopted family in the room? To all that?
“May I?” I might say. “We all came from mentally ill scenarios, no?” I’m not exactly afraid of that. So I came from a mentally ill family. And, here we are, looking at my sister. She knows. I’m not a fan of not talking, not confronting, not DEALING WITH. Healing is available to everyone. That’s where I’m at personally. It’s like, I felt like I had to go on a specific if not lonely path to do so. Except, wink, there are people out there — I got you, you see. I wasn’t going to down for my family, not happening. Not when it’s basically unfair.
So, right now, I have strep, I don’t want to talk, and I gotta keep establishing ground, getting my life together. What I don’t understand with my friend, this one texting me is, if I were her, I would not be texting this. I wouldn’t have texted my friend who said that she didn’t know if she was abused, sorry. I would not have said, “Well you know, you could have processed it as real even if it didn’t happen,” that sort of thing. So no, right now, I do not want to see her. I had to ask someone, her, and it’s not like I heard from her either, “I need someone to check up on me,” truly. And she did, she responded, but now, I’m back, and I’m needing space as I went through hell, around that.
And I said it again to her. I don’t know. And she’s going, “how’s the upper west side?”
I’m not on that channel right now. And I’m not in a place where I want to play this game.
I said, clearly, to our other friend, “I can’t be around any confusion” as I’m needing to deal with that space.
I don’t even know what to say, because if my friend told me that, I would not be responding like this.
I would be going, “go to a doctor,” maybe, “it’s time to just figure this part out.”
“How did it go?”
“You need to talk?”
This subject doesn’t make me uncomfortable. “You gotta just settle that for yourself, of course.” I’m someone who’s naturally curious about things, so I would probably just try to support her journey with that, as it’s been real agony for me, I can’t even look at a photo of my father. I have no money right now, I’m not exactly in the mood to hang out, I’m more in the mood to go network, meet new people, and get MY life sorted. I don’t need Instagram wisdom, or some of these knee jerk reaction where people say sentimental phrases…
I need to push forward in my life, and I know, some of the people I know might nod and say, “you know, I really get what you’re saying, about just putting away the other family thing, I really do.” That was such a mess. But now, the good news actually is, I could forsee having a family of my own of some kind, and I would be hilarious, learning how to fold laundry, lol, horribly. “Imagine?” But then, that’s an old story, and we can play into those. A life is a precious gift, you get to create something, and more so than not, relationships, money, these basic factors, make a huge difference as life is long, it can be, and I went through an end. I get I was “a star,” looking at the guru. Now, in that sense, let’s see, let’s see if that’s true since this man felt it, for whatever reason, so DEEPLY in his bones.
I’m walking into NYU and Columbia grad and I’m going to get sassy, really sassy, and then, heartbroken, and let’s see how it goes, let’s see what the grad FILM department says. Then, I will try to finish writing a fucking book. And let’s see what the critics say. I was actually trying to plug into that, like what would they say about what “it’s about?” Since I don’t know quite what to do yet.
“In the age of Instagram wisdom, here comes a person with real guts.” lol, I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to figure out now, story wise, so someone goes, wow, I see, what a mess, wow, she’s — supernatural, now? Really? I became psychic. Cue: Twilight Zone music. And — sure, I went through a collapse, no one reading knows what the fuck happened, so it’s applause all around, “she made it out, through, and now she’s contending with an old structure, and trying to do it thoughtfully, as best as she can, as someone with ‘a good complex.’” She’s gotta be good, she’s gotta consider everyone’s side, exhausting. I’m just going through this scenario a minute, Miracle Mile, so we’ll see. I’m keeping it on the game, and tennis match, this family, for a minute, and maybe I’ll just go:
“I was in a sex scandal when I was four,” first sentence. Go through that chapter, and then, move through my life up until this point, I don’t know. “Paris, oh, Paris, as if it were NEW, it’s just Paris, you know what I mean? But I had to live there, had to, it was destiny, as I felt time bend even,” a most hilarious mysterious experience. My perception of time changed twice the year my father was supposedly diagnosed, and that’s why I went to NYU and Paris, right? I saw bends in the air. I saw flaming balls of fire in a grid through the fabric of what is. I understood these to be “probable futures,” nodding at nine, “huh.” I was in thereotical universe? I can’t explain these experiences I had. And this man I listened to, called this “the dementia,” anyone? The Alzheimer’s, though he had Parkinson’s, not quite yet, but what do I even say about that?
We’re dancing regardless. Jose Leibowitz appears and trips Nicole. JOSE! Five women, one hot Brazilian mother stomping her kitten heel, hitting him with a rolled up piece of paper. So maybe I can keep ending up at the lambada party. Because it’s about everything. Life. The total experience. I felt time bend, hey. In the end, I suppose it doesn’t matter. I just need a second.
And to my family now, SORT OF, just picture us in a family therapist’s office, think about that, and think about how we would look, how it would all look? And then we can talk. Probably, this therapist would look at the mother and say, “wow, you’ve been through a lot, too, haven’t you?” And that’s exactly right. She has. So has my sister, evidently. Now, with the men, these men, um, the therapist is going to ask about any diagnoses, obviously. “Did you really have a communicable disease? Is that what you believed? And you gave it to people for ten years? That’s what you said…?” Okay, in some states, that’s manslaughter, I think? You see? A dog bite isn’t necessarily going to alert the police. And they don’t SEE that. Again, was it fair? And there’s more, of course.
This just isn’t what I needed, necessarily, if you would. And I’m not the type of person that wouldn’t have driven my parents into a therapist’s office, you understand. Now I will take some time. I’ll most definitely tell my therapist about what this family has been like, the problems that are there, and yes, my difficulties with remaining involved. And like, I don’t know what to say as I don’t really judge them, they judge me, though. I have enough problems in my family, that I’m seeking to resolve, and I can’t play social games. I can’t play whatever these weird social games are in my family. Like, I do not even understand them. So, as I said to my friend, for the moment, it’s a no. I would rather not talk. People go without talking for a while? So I’m trying to — listen to this — NOW, on the brink of forty, I’m getting my mail out of this woman’s house. She was my permanent address, so annoying. What you can’t get your own address? Stuff like that. Where it’s not helping me. So now, I have an address. It’s not that I haven’t had one, but even the Chelsea, I can’t get mail sent there, or I was living in France, which is cool, I guess, but it just annoyed me. Having these weird crutches. So I gotta send a change of address paper to the IRS, right?
It’s like, I never thought about these details, but it’s sort of a dependency. So I need to separate, I need to establish my own world where I’m responsible for all the pieces in it. I don’t want, simply, to operate like that. The way I was operating was somewhat ridiculous to me. As a mother — I would tell my daughter that to her face. “I do not even understand what you’re doing.” It’s an absolutely not. It’s not happening. So I became the mother I needed, that’s it, it’s very simple. I’m most definitely a bitch, head of the PTA, married to Dave Chappelle on this TV SHOW in my mind. Telling him about this ridiculous excuse for coleslaw. “Where is the proposal of marriage?” He’s asking this boy who wants to date his twenty year old daughter, and I’m following, right? There she is, doing well, so that took care of that. I’m on Cindy Crawford’s side. That’s the mother, right there. “Where is the proposal of marriage?”
Blows up the internet, I get wind of it. I’m shaking my head. “Please.” Imagine me telling her, I don’t want to be, “are you insane?” Lol, putting on some looney tunes routine — skipping around Paris. That wouldn’t work with Cindy Crawford. And the thing is, this mother of mine now, we might have a real relationship, of course, but we’re not exactly mother and daughter like that. I just don’t need something blurry, if that makes sense. It’s not that comfortable, sensationally for me. I would rather draw some lines around that, clear lines, so it’s a bit easier and more honest. I’m not going there for Christmas, right? I’m not participating in family functions. All that. Again, one always hopes that shifting things might make things run more smoothly, actually. If there’s a friendship between my sister and me, that, I would be open to exploring, if you would, but the family thing, hm, that one just was too much too soon, got a bit wonky for me, though I did try, and I evidently, I think, support her, what she’s been through. She’s been through a lot. I just can’t do our dynamic. I can’t do the family thing, like that.
So I worked out what I need to, yeah, and I don’t always feel — like it’s been that easy, so getting back to social masking? Sure, patty cake baker’s man, that’s going to take me a second, because I don’t even like operating like that. I do not want to have, hey, how are you, blah blah blah. Not with my family. I don’t want to tell them anything. Nothing. I totally shut down. I’d rather be in my own sphere a moment. My family life was always SO COMPLICATED. And I just came to understand all that, so I’m in a particular headspace because I am not in the same world. It does not apply. I don’t want the same supports, if that makes sense, as they weren’t supportive, not actually, that’s not how they functioned, but I still have to work through that, if that makes sense, just continuing to change that relationship. I’m no longer in the dynamic.
And for the most part, what I’m gathering, it just doesn’t matter. Just think, that’s where I am, is the family therapist’s office. That’s where I’m waiting.