Post the lies around the Clooneys, a little more about the lies around my home...

I like my reflection shots. I guess I’ll share them on my stories? And then make one of those content circles that people can then click on. “Reflections.” Maybe I’ll make a Dr. J one. I just published something on my newsletter about the lie that the NY Post started about the Clooney’s selling their house. It’s good, not that. I’m beginning to be able to reflect on the world as it relates to my experiences. I always thought that Once Upon a Time on Miracle Mile — which is what I’m calling these four years I lived with another family because of money and heinous accusations — deep breath. No wonder I didn’t make sense for a while. Where was I? Yes, I always thought that these years could be valuable in some way especially since I studied them. I launched an undercover investigation at nine years old. Somewhere in there.

You see, this question of whether I was eight or nine sent me into a throes of physical despair because I cannot lie. I finally questioned all this as an adult. What was true? And solo, looking at people who were not there — do you know? With something like this, do you know? The degree to which all of this affected me wasn’t in my grasp until recently.

Let alone…just the story…and then…? Your father? What did he do? Four years? He didn’t pick you up? Well. Awkward. Just awkward. OH, the secret dementia. But he didn’t know that these lies were being told about him…though he acted like “We all knew?” It was farcical. Knocking on some woman’s door, a total stranger, to “visit me.” He can’t step a foot into this woman’s house, so he obeyed the unspoken rules. That was hard. Years. Then, Jesus Christ, he’s not doing anything, she’s nowhere to be found, and this woman decides that he isn’t when nothing real was done to determine what was actually going on.

I hope I’m right that there’s comedy in it, like you sort of have to laugh, or you might crack up since…laughter was a real feature in this story. I suppose I felt discouraged in one way or another, too, to lead with that experience since it’s sort of — oh, that’s crazy. I have no idea what the truth is. It was rather terrifying. Even how this woman who took me home assumed that she knew what the truth was…every step of the way.

The truth is — a man does this, a child molester, but a woman lying about something like that — unthinkable. And Dr. J was, that’s my mother, I know that now, the biggest liar on earth but then, my father? It’s unthinkable in reality too. It’s just that, it’s a common issue, unfortunately. You cringe, someone might kill a man, so her response to all this is even understandable — a temporary insanity plea…which wasn’t that temporary in the end. In terms of how this affected me. Where someone might not even know just how traumatic this can be, and at least, I read the GOOP article about severe psychological abuse was mentioned in the same article about sexual abuse, sort of graining away, because that was tough to contend with since how I spoke about all that was further influenced by this total stranger who took me home ONE day for four years, snapping in my face four years later at an exclusive tennis club. I started living with her “just like that.” I asked her the same questions over and over again — I know what she said. Over something like that. It spun me up, thinking about the reality of abuse and also not knowing what to say. Disturbing behavior from both my parents. And I guess no, not everyone can relate, luckily. I ain’t finding myself in this situation. No, no, no. I needed to feel a difference somewhere if that makes sense though I suppose that’s drama — in reflecting on the situations that people can get entangled up into…unbelievable.

A child molester is a drama, a major problem.

And my mother was the biggest liar on earth, exactly.

And?

With someone like that, where do you land?

Drugs, sure, so no, I cannot breeze over that nor her sexual problems since they were rather blatant, so my parents touch a variety of buttons that tend to…work better on the screen, I guess, or people find them more believable on the screen when there are a lot of people out there. I’m fine opening up about all that now, it’s just that, the way I spoke about it before was problematic. It would have reflected a deeper issue with me…like do you hear what you’re saying????? My cousins in Naples since I’ll switch back over to my draft…I guess I’ll post this, too, somewhere, so many platforms…my cousins in Naples were the first to — torpedo, Franco Franzese, though more like a bulldozer…in interrogating me about my life….me in a state of chaos over the story itself. What was real????? So Christmas in Naples is a sport. I’m fundamentally confused. Now, I’m just giving myself a moment to let my story live and breathe. The facts have always been the same…what they mean…but I suppose like anyone else, we try to find the use in it, and I appreciated feeling like my angle as a kid was valid. What is the truth? What was the truth in her lies? The fact that I was so young — was the point, also. All I have to do is sit there as a child…and basically, just tell you what happened. This is what happened.

Buffoon. Totally. Vulgar.

Also human.

Something like that isn’t necessarily going to bring out one’s best…maybe. That was so confusing. My heart is there. Always has been. A little less convoluted. Again, I said it, a deep, very real truth — you can sentence a child before they are even born, forget five.

There are many angles at which I can approach my childhood, my parents, a story, I mean. Which is why, right now, I’m thinking about “Death” as a guide through my childhood who is, in this story, “the oldest storyteller.” That’s my idea for the moment. A psychological fiction…for a story that people seemed to have a hard time believing. Death is — you can’t lie. What does your life mean? Your whole life flashes before your eyes…since I’m on the other side of a worldview. I don’t have the same story, in a sense, though those facts are…still true…but I can confidently step into the world, look, my parents were ill. Step one. Not the easiest step. But the one that held. Then, all the rest of it happened. It made it somewhat easier to forgive myself, just because I had a lot to work out. It took me a touch longer than I would have liked….to get to this point but luckily, I’m still young, basically. I don’t really have a problem with the rest of it. Sometimes, being in the place I am now can irk me, just a little, because I wanted to be in a different place….though I suppose I thought back on my career path and crafted that a little more favorably in my direction. I can also appreciate the path I did take.

I guess you have to want to change, I guess you have to want to excel, keep pushing yourself or gently guide yourself past your limits like running or exercising. Maybe that’s not healthy, I don’t know, but I’m just saying. I spent hours editing an old PDF I wrote — like, sure, that’s what it was, so I’ll show what I did in my content portfolio so you can see my evolution. So I can. I went through a whole gamut — like this is really what I feel, about myself? That’s what I mean. About being clear. I had to say “no,” here and there, adopt new perspectives.

Last night, I was thinking about it, what people “think” about a person…without knowing them…like, my friends, a couple projected onto me that I was “flowery” or I might be lavish or something as a writer when…not so sure. And they know me, in a sense. Yelena, my writer friend, said — no, no, you’re a muscular writer, dunno. We’ll see once I produce something. Maybe when my cousin’s garden and farm comes to life, that side of it…maybe I’ll get lush, rugged, don’t know. Most of the time these days, I hear the word “decorative” a lot. That’s decorative. Again, I think a story, what that is, and how you use all the elements involved to be an interesting exercise.

I’m still working out this style but my cousin sings a song….it relates to me…and he remembers another song that I used to sing which sums up the point of the first chapter: I don’t remember who I am. Then, however, Vico shot me, I don’t like that language, but he got me, hooked me just unexpectedly with “My song for Maria.” It was my childhood song. I could never forget it though it was a ghost of a line. And we begin with a ghost of a man.

All of that happened at the same time, pretty much, but I can’t just — I don’t know — have these decorative pieces in that everything has to serve the story no? In some way? So now, they are starting to, I have to figure out the exact mechanics of that style but the songs are all building, that’s what I mean. I’m not overly describing their homes yet because that’s going to come later…home, we’re all heading there…I don’t know. Or, that’s really what it’s all ahout. But again, I could walk down the hall in the beginning and describe it — there’s a window…the wallpaper, or I can try to activate home itself in relation to the story unfolding, which I prefer conceptually, once you’re invested in all these people, this home, me.

I contacted, I wrote a quick note to my old therapist, the Zen Master Sybil.

Whoosh. That’s like a mini-short right there…

To thank her.

I wish I listened to her all those times. Just thinking about what I learned all these years later. As I was about to flee back to France, seriously, and she said — no, stay. She wasn’t allowing an abyss to widen between me and someone else — fishing for RAGE out of my eyes, seriously, with all her might. That was quite a scene, looking back on it, since I WENT through that rage, lots. So. The Zen Master Sybil. “Delusion,” she said it to my face. No, yes, no, “yes,” she nodded, “I am not facing my own delusion,” yes. My mother not being my mother. I figured she might appreciate just hearing what I said, quite simply. Thanks. That took another ten years to work out, and she knows, she knows the problems I had. The Neptune comment, even, on her part. “You and your mother are very NEPTUNE,” that was a fascinating session. Right? Because it provoked something, the symbology, imagination. My cousins in Naples could literally see “the sparkles” around me. There are sparkles around her, huh? Well, the imagination is a real place to them. Which was utterly fascinating. They could tell I channeled other people — MARIA who is THIS? You are becoming someone ELSE. Franco Franzese.

“Si si,” Flora Franzese.

“Who is this?”

Then, Neptune = Naples. That too. But in any case, that’s definitely quite a dreamy place for its darkness too. Which is a Zen Master comment about Neptune. The dark side. There IS delusion, she kept saying it, and the way she said it — very clearly into my eyes. “Delusion.” And now, I go, “wow,” because “huh.” I was disconnected.

In any case, when I was leaving like the next day, by the way, she tried to give me something to depart with — “invest,” she said, “you have to care to invest, and you don’t invest.” That…the degree to which that was true…was so overwhelming, partially because I don’t know WHAT happened to me back there. Care, that feeling, self-care, me caring, was too much for a while. That could throw me into a panic even. I had to take that slow, discomfort. She would be nodding, I know, she would. It’s a very different Maria these days. I made a plan with a body worker to take her through the body of what I went through now that I can. No, the hospital did not help. So I’ll talk to her this weekend. See how that goes. So, that was a bumpy last ride, but in opening up my past, writing about it, I went on a healing adventure. Now, I can write a psychological fiction about that…with a guide such as “Death,” which is a spiritual concept as it is very very real. Which is also the point. Very real. A very real reality. We will all cross that threshold. Yes, what I went through was akin to an awakening. That was complex. So, I could imagine, maybe, for someone like me…the track I was on…right? I didn’t want to get sick…and I did face real problems as my story kept landing…just my set-up too. I’m fine talking about it since I never a, realized that, and it’s over.

I’m glad I was able to see a path, basically. It could go really well. There’s an outcome but the road was the road. And now, never been better, though wow, the reality of that, yeah, the reality of you mean, my WHOLE operation was…yup. So now, I gotta take it step by step. Istanbul isn’t a bad place to start over, but I also have to be able to find remote work, because I’d like to save while I’m out there. Use this time to come up without financial burdens on top of it. We’ll see. I cannot change the past only move on from here. What people understand, don’t understand, all that, gets easier to make peace with. Both my parents were sick — yeah, I can picture the Zen Master nodding, good. We’re on the clear channel now. That took, yeah, another ten years.

Again, “I thought I dealt with this,” that was one of the times I came back — “no,” she said, “you didn’t.” Six years later. Ageless. Timeless.

I had basics to work out. And yes, it did feel like the past reared its ugly head, and some of that, I wasn’t seeing. Just the choices I was making…and it’s not like we don’t create our own realities, but there’s a reality to a person’s capacity — in terms of the steps…so I got a little thrown by “anything is possible,” it’s…I want to afford this. And then, my friend acted a little shady. Deep triggers this year…the year I faced my parents.

Just the thought, like, I had a story. Was it fundamentally true?

Okay, I’m going to have to put this adopted narrative aside, too confusing — which you’ll see in this Christmas story…beginning to wake up inside that story. No one knows WHERE my father even is. Me too. And I began to go back from the angle of them… in order to get to that Christmas story, which was, just an entirely new experience, beginning to understand the journey.

And that’s what did it.

I’m fine with conflict now.

In that, someone can be mad, or I can, and that doesn’t rock my world, so there are lines that I have, because I learned an enormous amount recently about myself, so I can also forgive myself because what else can I do? I will talk through what I saw too, felt, because I need someone who might know a thing or two about the body of what I went through…just imagine? My whole life, these four years I lived somewhere else, surrounded “a child molester,” that was a lie, but then, she decided that. I was four. And some of these memories that came back just terrified me. I also felt things I didn’t understand. My whole world concept came into question. I couldn’t bring myself to say a thing, because it was a lie, so I guess I was processing that? Which is why a spiritually inclined psychologist like she was — good choice due to many of the questions I had. I hope, it seems, you can deeply heal, work out whatever these mysterious ties might be only because I did wonder….why this life…why these parents…unless you think it’s random…which I’m fine with…but it helped me to consider that there was…something that my life could impart. Very specifically too. There was a challenge in the set-up, a psychological challenge. Sort of hilarious thinking about me as a child not so much in the imagination but a psychological universe, studying all this secretly.

So I’ve been thinking about the Zen Master Sybil — the things that stuck with me. You have to care to invest. My focus problems, too, that’s night and day. I appreciate that. My selection process too — not the same. In terms of the relationships I chose too, hell, I could even have, you know, a real relationship with someone. Not like I didn’t have my fun, my moments, but I can build…basically…from here. Was it devastating? Yes, it was. That makes sense. But when that landed, many points on that journey — the care was wildly confusing. Couldn’t. Pity was a problem in both my parents. That’s a real killer, in a sense, very unhealthy. Like shame is. And there’s another one, most definitely in my mother. Just the shame. I used to think my parents were from such different worlds. Not really.

I went on this ride today. Just sharing a little more after the news about George and Amal Clooney’s home not being for sale…came to my attention. I hope more does. I’ll keep thinking about how to relate to the world as an artist, a thinker, a person — now. From this place.

But first, back to the Maria that showed up at my cousin’s all these years later…in pretty clothes, you know, as a stylish person in a particular way, too. A character. There’s nothing wrong with that, either, but now, it’s like “come on,” which is basically what I did — you are better than this. Let’s change course, now. So much is possible now that I got my problems out of the way. Yeah, actually, I mean, I dealt with the reality of a lot, had to work out some confusion too…but that’s basically it. For the rest, I’ll talk to this body worker this weekend and continue to learn about what that was. Talk about it.

Anyway, thanks for reading.