Mother’s Day 2021: I saw images and questions around my childhood that came from sensations.
My gut is a new experience. Not always but it is, sometimes.
You’re supposed to trust that.
I was definitely confused coming out of the hospital, where they don’t know what to do with that, literally speaking, and cannot penetrate the content. My early childhood is so blatantly weird and that didn’t even seem to get me the benefit of the doubt. So someone who might come from a slightly more regular framework — dunno — might not be seen, like I can rely on what the facts have always been.
There’s a child molester, for example, or someone who was called one: my father. I can no longer steer…exactly…just given the information that I put together.
I had a medical emergency, I can accept that, and my way of handling that was an epic in itself…where I went in with symbols even to help direct that experience. Which is very Dante. My cousins casually call me Dante.
People talk about time in thrilling ways—you can condense it, you can manifest what you want as if it’s already happened, and these are people who seemed to manifest their desires, their lives, so I saw that with my time-bending experience. I don’t know what people want, what they’re aiming for, but the Mother’s Day experience seemed to be a point that could have gone in different ways. And for someone else, one could perhaps direct themselves toward a beneficial outcome. You can. That’s how you want to think. Direct a person.
I saw a future, the specifics are something else since I’m going into a world of symbols, imagery, and it might not be the literal image but more so a feeling that we’re trying to cultivate. I remind myself to say, thank you, for that opportunity, thank you for that book publishing deal…thank you for drawing out of me what might contribute something of value…
I’m not sure what people experience when they go through a psychosis but I arrived at my house after I got out of the hospital, went what the hell happened, opened the windows and sang. Is this what I wanted? I started out that way. I started again. I don’t know what that means but it’s been healing. I got my boxes, coming to understand that my belongings from my old house were stored in other people’s spaces. I never thought about getting them, I was abroad, but it took this event for me to gather my things.
I ripped through them. I looked at the pictures, with this story, the same story, wondering what happened, meditating that this woman thought my father was a child molester and sent me home with these people. It wasn’t true though right? Um, I don’t know what to say about this situation. Just the rage, I felt, you know, just that. These memories I had, the facts I had, came to the forefront.
Money, just what money does to a person, it seems. So, what’s this conversation? So, it’s cool, we’re working it out, we’re taking our child on an outing, and “it’s fine.” I suppose she didn’t know what to do? Not her child. I was just shaken. No one did this.
Putting the one article about Dr. J I have next to Hannah Arendt’s body of work — genius. Neiman Marcus Magazine — the clothes, gasp! I can most definitely buy a new closet. I had to shed a skin. By necessity too but might as well clear house. I was never attached, you see, to looking like this, my looks, even, I don’t know. Just clear house.
I’ve talked to people who have child molestation in their families as to how difficult it can be to face. I've gotten secure in where I’ve come from, I stand on firmer ground, I’m alright being on my own in a way, and recently, I’ve resolved a final wound, of sorts, in facing the Bosphorus with another continent on the other side. I can positively ideate from here and direct the course even if sometimes it’s like being at an unknown. Where do I go? Writing is one thing.
Should I go into investigation, should I go into mental health, should I become a trauma specialist, a psychologist, or do I write stories about all this since you can implement change quicker on the page, in a sense, let ideas land, resonate, and open up people’s minds, hearts. You can try things out in the realm of ideas which I why I went into drama in the first place. I can create a family, even. I could fall in love. Not to say I haven’t. It’s just a new world. I’m settling into that, taking stock, for a moment. Really thinking about what I learned over the years…some of which I had to un-learn.
I’m working on a book, you know, so that’s it for now. I’m putting my stories out there because you never know and I figure Miracle Mile is a good story in me investigating how young narratives are perpetuated — I’m in a much better head-space than I’ve ever been.
Be proud of where you came from—I wasn’t. I don’t regret the choices I made, I just understand what was driving my choices, and I’m happy to share some stories I collected along the way, befriending these Russians, one’s Robin Gud / Aladdin / Batman, an extraordinary thief who leaves this profession behind.
The darkest point of Mother’s Day 2021, when I felt like I might give up, I saw a villain. I could write a villain. A villain could do some good, on the page, and I reached for that—Dr. J. I heard a voice —“her name is Dr. J!” That made me churn, it took a second, me writing a villain? Don’t give up. I saw “The Joker.” A female Joker.
I’m learning to love my story, even if that comes with rage, so I can make something out of it: transformation. Maybe writing ended up being therapeutic, an ally through a field of stories, really, but I thought that was interesting — a villain having a positive effect. Teaches us something.
In a literary context.
Not everyone, I guess, has a supple or plastic understanding of the truth or even what real is in that the Mother’s Day 2021 event was compared to Carl Jung’s The Red Book and Dante’s Inferno. I initiated my own therapeutic track during a time of personal crisis.
I did very much appreciate Goop’s article, once again, just because I happened to find that one first, just to anchor myself a little bit that even psychological abuse can be extremely challenging. Weird to touch the proverbial wall, like people nodding at me, yes, you, it’s going to be okay. And I’m blinking, later, now, at what started to manifest in my life at that point where I was making steps, dealing with my childhood.
The hospital could have seriously damaged me…just coming out of that. It’s not up to my friends to be experts in trauma and with all due respect, I do not understand, why people don’t ask questions? It’s a problem overall, truly. Insanity, that was insane.
My friend seemed to be convinced that I went through a psychosis — and I have a plastic, almost, ability to place myself in various theories and talk through those steps. A disconnect from reality. Well, if I look at what was really happening, maybe I didn’t want to be a part of that, maybe I wasn’t the only one with a disconnect in looking at him. Based on what I went through — not so sure. Since no one asked. And that’s the only diagnosis I received: psychosis.
Ego death, sure, but…
I don’t understand why people don’t ask more questions.
I, in the beginning, was putting together some basics after that experience. A lot landed. And reality landed too, that’s the other thing. “Oh, my father was sick…”
I was even thinking about what happened after that 5 AM message since it was that impact in my gut that put me through the worst of it. Tension in my surroundings, a large expense, too: this apartment. I’m just going to support myself a little bit as to why “the money men” as I call them, the people I briefly exchanged with, scared me, why I feared it might have been them.
“I do not want you to go through any more pain…”
This sentence after I left a job.
No clue what he was referring to.
What pain?
I didn’t ask, which is one specific thing I had to work on, “excuse me?”
Why are you calling me?
He also gave me a middle finger on the sly at a group.
I told someone.
Also, the reason why I left this job — legitimate.
And after that message, after the hospital, this person came back around. I still don’t know what to do with this though I don’t care. After how I even acted, reacted, after that message.
He said “you’re a really good friend” and then there was a long fart.
It happens….but…he might just not like me. My friend around this apartment even confirmed that based on how this person came into the equation, truly: “that is not your friend.” That’s what he said.
I ended up asking him, did you send me that message? I apologized but I had to deal with this problem, my gut, telling me it was purposeful, which it was, I guess, but I had to resume normal eating. I don’t know what someone says to that but I tried to be apologetic that I was not accusing him. He didn’t. Finally, when I just admitted that it felt like it was intentional— that helped, automatically. I could eat.
Our shared therapist, yes, I shared a therapist with this person — When this message came through, I sent her texts like I wanted nothing to do with these people, just in case, and maybe she had a moment, but I asked her “what’s going on…?”
“What about you being a self-promoter?”
That’s a moment to ask: what? Did I hear that right? That’s what she said. I went into a spiral. Maybe she didn’t know what to say, I don’t know. I imagine she would say “no, I didn’t say that,” but that’s what I heard. I’m just saying, from my perspective, based on what happened after this message—to make myself feel better, I was scared.
—
So, I get this 5 AM message.
I send an apology email close to 9 AM.
I had no idea what to do with how real it felt even that I expected that.
I’m just saying this message came through and then I sent them an apology email.
No response.
At noon, I get a call. By their tone, I’m off. I had to anyway. I did not call back. I’m freaked out. Just proceed, write an email — we don’t know why you’re apologizing but happy to set up that transfer. Why do I hear anger? Feel something that I don’t understand.
I get a call the next morning or the day after, maybe after this conversation with my therapist, but this ended up — our shared psychologist — maybe not being the best set-up, just given what happened between us. There’s no need to pretend that something didn’t go well. It’s just that “he loves you” with that middle finger would present a question.
Around 8:30 AM by the Chase Bank in Soho, I get a phone call from a friend in common.
There is no question — what is going on with you? Why are you so scared? Which made me scared. “She sent us an apology email…” So I’m skating a line…hey, hey, cool, sort of a thing. Didn’t want things to get…
I’m in the East Village now.
“Me too.”
Something like this.
He facilitates this.
Right, so he’s supporting my fear somehow, but not asking me why I’m acting this way. As an approach, overall, I just don’t understand that. “Are you okay?” That would have been mine. At 8:30 AM, too. Around there. He knows I’m up early and probably, I might be upset, I don’t know. Since he didn’t mention it. There was no what’s going on? You’re not calling them back, they’re trying to send you the money, just that. He might have said “they only told me you’re upset,” I just don’t remember.
He’s still my friend, too. He knows I’m going to be writing about this. A very good friend.
I have to laugh. I never received a message through my website before. Truly. All I had to do was not respond but the physical impact of that, the tension in my space (really) even dislike, think about my friend attached to this apartment. Just because some of his behavior might indicate that he might have complicated feelings….not totally like me.
What I ended up feeling in my body — I couldn’t place. Wow, if I’m going through these sorts of sensations, they might have pushed a button, this message, a feat of perfect timing, since that’s all I can say, but that ended up being the question— why am I feeling this?
It’s just that, that conversation ended up making me feel more uneasy. I would never find myself in this situation again. None of it, that’s the other thing. This hit a nerve that I couldn’t explain— this relationship with these couple of people…not relationship but what went down between us and how that might reflect my parents…sex got involved.
Who cares, I’m just telling the story of what happened, just remembering this moment.
Couldn’t talk about that message.
Still, the response I didn’t understand.
“Why are you upset?”
Aren’t you getting money back?
That utterly confused me.
I sent them another email, too, because I did feel that confused, I even mentioned my mother, her name for like the first time in God knows how many years. Keep the money, I said that too. And money was wrapped up in these four years I spent in another house. This is my early childhood.
In the end, I asked him to just accept the money for me. Not just facilitate this.
WHY? Why are you scared of them?
Nothing.
I got the money. The check. From him.
Seriously.
EXACTLY written on the line.
When I picked up the check, no mention of what that was, why I wanted to do it that way, nothing. I went into some talk about…dealing with my parents or figuring out where this came from, basically, I had no idea what to say— trying to make some talk, the best I could, in the state I was hiding. By the end of this exchange, I started getting a panic attack, and the further away I drove…calmed down.
Excuse me. If I was in his place, I would have asked all parties involved — why am I here? Evidently, this woman is scared, she asked me the receive the money for her, in the form of a check. No conversation. About any of it. I’m just trying to get through this. I get that I was “acting calm” but let’s be real. Please, can you accept the money…? Why? Why am I doing this?
The thing is, I don’t feel un-supported in why that would have thrown me. Not to say that an apology email wouldn’t have thrown them but just to break down what this year was…you see. Opened up my childhood…and this was the end of it. And the more I think about it…They didn’t need to send someone over an apology email. I got off the phone when they called me after this…because of the tone. Sure, I had another call, too, but I wasn’t lingering. Our friend in common at 8:30-45 AM didn’t say “they want to know how you are…” or they were confused…no talk like that.
Why is someone facilitating this exchange? It had been one, two days? I’m pretty sure. I don’t remember the exact order, at this point, but I was waiting to see how they would respond. “Hey Maria, I don’t understand this apology but just let us know for your money…hope you’re alright.”
It’s not to say that it wasn’t a weird email but an apology? I was going off the feeling that was in my gut.
What that message released through my body…I’ll talk to someone about that. Especially because I feel better but I guess that doesn’t mean anything. I got through that. I’m just a very positive person. Maybe that was part of my problem as well which I’ve written about. What’s positive? But I’m sorry, what am I even supposed to say?
I still sit here, juggling what everyone’s intentions are, still, understanding their perspectives as if anyone is doing this for me. I’m not a perfect person but the basic reaction like everything is cool normal and “sure,” I’ll get that money for you, you see, in my position, I would have said “why do I need to do that?” WHY am I here? WHY? I didn’t want them to have any information after this.
Yeah, cool, right, because I have no clue what’s going on.
So, would someone suspect them? Did one of them send it in an emotional state?
It’s the apology email. The tone on the line. The shrink. No mention, no “what was that?”
Why am I here? As the middle man? I swear too, you know, the shit I heard, if they did, send that to me in some emotional state, quite frankly, which I still don’t know what to do with…just like, “she’s upset…can you ask her…how she wants her money?” Why is this necessary? To the point that I have to get the money to give it to her? What is going on? Chill, cool, nothing — isn’t that strange?
“The final blow,” someone called this message.
A couple of months later, I ended up in the hospital after Mother’s Day. This group of people did not inform my friends that my behavior that first week of March was rather remarkable, she really freaked out, she sent an apology email, she seemed to also mention her mother in another email, so maybe she’s dealing with her past, since money was a theme in these four years…and as we know, Maria comes from a questionable past to say the least. No, but, seriously.
None of that existed.
Why?
Since I’m in the hospital.
Anyone who knows me will probably be able to vouch that, I guess I might not have received proper guidance, either, I think that’s fair to say, as to what was going on with me. It’s not, at all, to criticize anyone, just to say that my story was bizarre. So then, the fart after the “you’re a really good friend,” right? I got out of the hospital. Just didn’t know what to do with that. One of the money men.
Why are you telling me I’m a very good friend, right now? You know? To then fart.
Why did no one ask — did you feel anything in your body? Jesus Christ, are you okay? This person is supposedly my friend — that reaction, what happened? That’s not what happened. No offense, how do any of you people know?
What people said to me, also my friend around my apartment really did freak me out, it turned out, that took a moment. Which is understandable. I suppose I was really good at putting things away, you see, really taking a lot on, but my parents were both sick, my mother absent, and the way she treated me— I have every right to say was unacceptable.
On that end, she leaves me at some house, pays this woman, whips her up, my father is a child molester who knocks on her door…and stands there to watch me play happy in another home. She decides he’s not really a molester. My mother is gone.
I cannot confirm if I ate regularly in my house?
I remembered…this is what I mean. My housekeeper at four getting angry at me because I didn’t seem to eat, have that instinct, can’t totally place myself, because I remember one thing Dr. J made me which was a burger patty with alcohol in it. I get “a little for the flavor” LADY, but I was four, I had no interest in this burger that smelled, not just a little, of alcohol. I had birthday cake, I believe? Who wants to do this? Me? A spoiled brat? Okay, but just please.
Was eating scary? Could I not ask? Do you understand?
So, like, already, could people be more caring about what I might have gone through? I get that was scary because it was. I was four. Ego Death, some of this language, it was just like, that hospital visit ended up making me feel more ashamed, if not a liar; that took a second to wrap my head around. If you cannot penetrate the content, someone who might be confused, then get someone who can.
It’s not my friends — it’s the hospital I’m angry at.
So, I get out.
To make myself feel better.
Alright, I’m having some panic attacks when I get hungry or digest food…I was associating with that message. Another mutual friend of mine and these money men, we went to a coffee shop…why haven’t we talked? Well, I wasn’t really thinking about that. And she said “yeah they were really upset when I tried to get my money back.”
I had a panic attack.
Someone being upset, whatever, she ended up clearing that up. I’m just saying. No one got it? She couldn’t physically take the money from them to the point that someone had to intervene in the span of two days? Over a lengthy apology email? “I don’t know what happened here…but tried calling you…” which to me sounded off, but just let us know…calling someone else…? Give it a few days…”Are you okay, why did you send this apology email lol.” In that case, haha, okay, I’m coming out of this hole…”no one understands this apology email,” oh, you got a scary email? Well, I’d never do that, “obviously,” in talking to someone else, but that hit me physically, right? Never happened before. And I am not a paranoid person. It was after all this that I decided to get more in touch with it.
I just had to admit that this message felt real, intended, in order to eat. What that refers to — I don’t know — but it was really true. In order to be able to resume eating. I was 93 pounds. I am small but I lost ten pounds. I used to be more muscular, and muscle weighs more.
I’m aware of my sensations in a totally new way. I keep just healing for that but that took two years. And that affected my whole body. I had terrible nightmares that I had to take sick days from. Not saying it was them but that response made me wonder and fear what that was…trust me, someone who lies to the mutual friend, blah blah blah, ain’t a reach. It’s my blog, can’t do anything, so there you go.
Like I said, I just needed to break that whole thing down for myself because I truly speaking went through hell.
Some people triggered some panics so I requested that they stop contacting me a moment; I didn’t want to put this on anyone. The “you’re creating your own reality” thing, I understand, but there are people in it. This money man, let’s say, who farted on the phone, which can happen, but that was quite a fart. He was one of them. Just because he started texting me again. At like 7 AM. He was abroad…I’m just saying, I just got out of the hospital. I haven’t spoken to this person in some time. Not like “hi how are you today…?” Given what I went through, don’t want to read about sex, thank you. These messages, again, didn’t understand.
To go back in time. Was I in the depths, depths of hell — no. I was in a hospital. Meaning, I can leave, I will leave. There are worse hells. They weren’t going to be able to help me but at least I felt safe, sort of. The first thing I had to do, it seemed, was to admit why I was here. If I was here, that meant that on some deep level, this was my expectation. That alone took a moment. Nothing wrong with being in a hospital but this was my family. And it’s not that kind of hospital, unfortunately.
I didn’t have parents.
Sick, ill.
I can deal with that.
Step one.
After my shower.
Apparently, that’s a sign, which is another thing I figured out—why wouldn’t you encourage people to take showers….I took more showers. I just realized at one point, “oh,” I’m the only one.
Since I moved through that successfully and families can lie, someone might come from…a weird situation…they might not comprehend what is going on. They might have come from Miracle Mile, a situation that no one would want to find themselves in, where you suddenly have a baby, me, and you don’t really know what hits you. There are already sexual issues, perhaps, built in. That was a very complicated childhood. Or, maybe some dick, I don’t care, punched me in the gut which might have — I don’t know. Like I do not KNOW what happened and I am increasingly pissed.
I don’t know what I would have been able to do in that moment…since events landed, facts landed, but my older friend seemed to understand without a psychology degree that — it’s not landing. Basically. My life. That was earlier that year. “Hello?”
It started to.
I used mythology, symbols, to help the sensations and to get out. I even surrendered to what I felt the exercise was, what the point of this setup? The objective is to get better…right? Just to make sure we’re all on the same page. If someone looks skinny, they might not be able to eat, so you could rephrase your projection. Ah, yes, breath, just doing her job, overworked. I was gracious, I believe. 93 pounds. I’m small, by the way, like tiny, but still. I didn’t know. Not a terrible comment but you could easily find better solutions for food since it was physically hard to eat, at times. I had to stretch.
The cookie comment. It’s fine. I asked for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I was grateful for it, but the cookie comment, I even physically communicated that her comment hurt my feelings, I knew where I was though I had never ever been here before. “You hurt me.” lol.
There seemed to be a track since this was the largest hallucinatory experience I ever had. If not the first hallucination in that I am a visual person. I get information in the form of images, too, sometimes, and I don’t know if that’s so farfetched an idea. This was different. My psychic-ness even, I didn’t know what to do. Within this architecture, however, the symbolic plane, there seemed to be aide, a way out. I went through a very large event.
If someone is talking about the things I’m talking about — start with I believe you, please.
When I started communicating to my friends — the second group that came into the equation in May.
Hallucinations. Using symbols. This is what I did. I’ll start with this.
Hades. I brought in that symbol.
Is it “really” Hades? This is not my problem. This is a symbol. Made me feel calm. Grounded. A boom, a pillar, even roots. If you have “this is real, not real” forget it. This is not the point. Hallucinations are forms, it depends, but these symbols are forms, containers, even. You can work with these because it’s all energy. Transformation seemed to be part of the architecture. A future, even, seemed to present itself. My whole family structure. My parents in another space. Other scenes. Gotham City the Trilogy, also.
Hades was a most useful symbol. Mythology. Carl Jung is whipping up rencontres with the collective for therapeutic purposes, alright, mythology is not a bad idea to help you through this, and I have to read more about it, what he did. He might meet with me after this experience though, for real.
As a symbol, this is Hades’ domain: the underworld. A guide. That’s his job. Get me out, please. Thank you. I am just like that. Gratitude. Again, don’t “really” believe in Hades, and it drives me crazy that people don’t understand that. Symbol.
In general, since there is a priest on this floor, you believe this is a spiritual problem as well? What is this? In terms of what all this is, means, I believe there’s some confusion. Not helping.
In a field of hallucinations that might change as I went on this journey, Hades isn’t moving. He’s not “after me,” because that doesn’t even make sense, conceptually. He’s there to help me through this.
I’ll skip to the end to show you what the mythological thread did because I’m going to have to break this down into different sections.
There was “an exit” scene, just thrilling, totally amazing. That’s what I did first.
It begins: Hades picks me up in the elevator at my mother’s office which is above a luxury car dealership. Hades is in a sports car. So sweet too, the elevator opens, we peer down the hall, and fine, he’ll go first, he always handles this himself. My mouth dropped. Of course, Hades is the type of character that’s going to make sure you leave his house. He’s watching you leave. Satisfying. My mother’s office is a straight shot down La Cienega— twenty minutes. I’ll post that scene.
The exit is home. If not you.
The mirrors that covered my mother’s office. In the end, to skip, the mirrors break down, and I get a cut across my cheek — I bleed — “feel,” he mirrors it, to fly suddenly from the shadows of the master bedroom, his face half in shadow, moonlight. Just like my father in the middle of the night. Now I leave you, Meri, he said. Hades moves through a spaceless black — vacuous, endless — appearing in the reflection of mirrors. He chases me down the beaches of Cuma around single-drawn chariots (later edition). I fly back through the black— because you don’t need a vehicle. I knew I couldn’t take my eyes off his, somehow, this is a mythological construct. And he — oh my God —plants himself and a majestic cloud of cosmic dust rises in the widest embrace of black, endless.
Oh my God, I’m racing through space, he’s getting smaller, he is the GATE!
Duh, of course, he is.
I do not take my eyes off his.
He said the line that rose from my belly from a place so deep it was sensationally impossible, that got me out of bed when I was in pain — I might have experienced a miracle.
“I have seen Gods die to become ordinary men and I have seen ordinary men die to become extraordinary men,” and he closed the door of Hades in the pupil of his eye—a vanishing point!!—in reverence for the mystery of Man. In reverence for the mystery of Man.
“And you are one of them.”
Then, I walked through the SLIT in my eye I saw at nine the afternoon I felt time bend, when my eyes shut tight, I was just amazed by this, and I said “and through a dark eye, I walked through unknown territory and still I saw,” the Oracle of Cuma, “love was timeless.” I made the oracle a dual image or that’s just what I saw. She/he, as men can also be oracles, you must change the narrative, stood at the head of a tourist boat through the Fjords against snowcapped mountains…it’s her favorite part.
“Time is sensational…”
All my lines, right, but this is mythology—mine, the power of myth. This is just what happened.
I remembered my joy, thanking me for my joy, Franco, my cousin, since I really went to Cuma.
The line, I know, came earlier in real life. I really did go through pain in a specific area of my body and that line really did rise from my belly, from a place so deep, it was impossible. This was one of the most extraordinary experiences I ever had.
So I ran that exit when it got hard, especially, that’s also a great scene. Sports car—headed to Ladera Heights from Beverly Hills. “I have seen Gods die!” Amazing line, right? I think so. It rose as one line. So I will get through this. It’s true, too.
What’s amazing is what happened later.
I’ll skip ahead to show you what this mythological thread did:
After this event, a year later, I’m leaving my cousins’ house, a lot happened, I was still recovering, but it was spring. My cousin’s garden sits on the cliffs of the Sorrento Coast, blossoming with yellow daffodils, just the friendliest, perkiest, little kisses. I was closing the front door, and Hades appeared just as I closed it, “gently,” this symbol said.
I wasn’t expecting that. He said.
Gently.
It was so hard, it really was, what I went through, and you see, the exit scene I imagined, one might expect: majestic, otherworldly — but this surprised me. “Gently,” shut the door gently. One year. I needed that. That moved me. There was even a lesson in it. That’s mythology. That’s why that works. In a garden. Hades. Boom.
I was so moved by the daffodils, the timing, the power of myth, what one can do. It’s symbols, storytelling, not “real,” you see, not like I’m “really” talking to Hades to bring in Zoolander, “literally calling Matilda…” If you understand how you shape your reality, that you’re the one, no, you can use symbols consciously, and we do. “My mother” for some, I think about her and everything is going to be alright. “That’s how I feel,” that’s what I mean. They hold feeling, meaning. I just wrote a story…? Hades VS the mental health care system. “And we will be clear, very clear.”
Is there a person who makes you feel safe, that you enjoy thinking about— for me, it’s Hades. Which is funny. Even as a kid, Hades, hm, this image of him — no. This is the psychological God, in my Greek mythology book for kids, this is it. The underworld. Maybe this is a universe for me. Just the way Hades got his snacks prepared in the sports car, he could take any, you know the dealership. The way he booked it. “Really?” Never been more interested in a person. I’ll post this scene.
When it comes to life, even, illness, what might happen, the way “it” goes, the way “it’s supposed to go,” all that, I felt time bend, I saw…that didn’t have to be the case. You can go through something like that and be totally fine and you can evolve out of a diagnosis, also. I didn’t have one. I don’t have one. I could have been diagnosed, maybe, even incorrectly, but they might have seen I was going through something they couldn’t understand just based on how they acted, too.
I felt like writing like this, this week, to get that out. Even that’s made me feel better and better, and you can suggest that to yourself, but that’s it. I never took any medications…in terms of people who need them…I was able to work with myself. I don’t know enough about medications if someone is going through something that complicated, even abuse, and what does that do? Is it better to go through…? Do you know what I mean?
I don’t know what to say about that message…how people weren’t there? I can’t change that the message impacted me the way it did.
Like, I get it, hallucinations, but sensations…first. This is a body. William James. I understand it might depend…in that, there are different types of hallucinations…but still. I have to think about it. I can get images when people talk to me that have a real application. That’s not exactly a hallucination. When I close my eyes, not anymore, that black is a material…I can start to see things…if you think about dreaming…not a problem but then that’s pretty much done. I can get images with sound, if I’m tired, it depends. But I’m visual…that was, in a sense, a real hallucinatory experience, and I have to think about that, since the images and feeling might not quite be the same…I’ll talk to people about it.
I would even cross reference with my friend like — to be frank — the one who wanted to be my manager and play Death, a character I’m working on. Could you share some of the thoughts you had? What was your plan exactly? Any…dark thoughts? Less because I care but to cross-reference. I didn’t put these things together probably due to — just not responding or knowing what to do with this.
I think if someone wrote me messages that I did, too, since I wrote a couple of healers some of the things I went onto say to my friends beforehand…I didn’t get anything. Not even a question, besides “did you make it through?” I just don’t understand that. Fine, could you get someone to help me? In retrospect, sorry. I never…did that before. All this stuff, sorry, with this talk of me being an antenna, channel, portal on multiple planes of existence…and no one could ask me — anything going on in your body? What was that?
That took a second.
I was sensationally confused.
I couldn’t believe how well that worked with the soft exit in the Spring…the next Spring. Hades. Beautiful. Not scrawny. Eyes like laser beams.
The symbols take care of themselves.
Story = heart. That too. At least.
I’ll tell you about the Ukrainian refugee I spoke with, his hallucination, in terms of just dealing with that kind of content…obvious, in his case. The Year I was Invaded by the Russians.
I wouldn’t do the same thing with everyone but you can use symbols and we do. I also really did diffuse my own therapy and that was the architecture of the event itself…but the different spaces seemed to deal with different themes. For people who go through stuff, can you escort them through and could you end up with less diagnosis? Would that be — Time Magazine — the sign that we have a “new understanding?” That was like page one. Less, less is more.
I don’t hear people talk about psychosis like this.
Now, it’s a story…and a story is supposed to move you, you go on a journey, but you can direct the story, an experience like that. Native Americans believe storytelling is a form of medicine. I believe that , I experienced it, maybe the antidote to my mother’s pure storytelling though I don’t know what to say.
A Joker! A female Joker!
I’ll tell you about that.
That was the long vision — I wanted to get there: Joker.
That’s my plan. Joker’s Daughter, Joker, something — how great would that be?
Not everyone can say that. Dr. J.
Can you hear the monologue?
“We see the path of the villain as a fall from grace…she might have shown that another way was possible…up up up into the sky the color of her eyes…” you see. Forget the dark. This is something else. Perfect, even. Smile, she had a dazzling smile, stunning. I thought about a trilogy. Of course, there’s major darkness in Dr. J, if you saw her now — her eyes are still otherworldly — freaky, I mean, that was really something. She might not always look like that but her eyes were really something. I was also doing that, during all this— writing Gotham City the Trilogy: Rises, Falls, Wins or Triumphs. Depending. Wrestling with “ahhh….” the mind of a villain. Okay, people do this, I could do this, can I have fun…do you know? It’s all transformation. No, I’m not giving up, I’m not going down, I’m writing a villain.
She’s either fantastical or very raw, real — that could go either way. I have to think about it. I guess both, but it’s sleeker, it’s the truth, and wouldn’t it be hilarious, unexpected? “Guess what? It’s a girl.” And…maybe more than one. I could do that.
What am I supposed to do? Call her? HELLO? What, was that a lie? Lady? Seriously. Did this happen to you? Who is your family? Hello?
I’m telling you, this Mother’s Day, me being in the hospital, was epic.
Is this a psychosis?
I had to wait for the COVID test so I got there at the end of the afternoon, night, and then one day, and then I slept there one more night and then I left the next day. You have to see the doctors. They might have a 48 hour rule so maybe in the end, sleep time, that would be it.
“The pupil of his eye,” I was blown away.
I was in his pupil?!
So that was Hades.
We also have our own landscapes, different symbols.
To give you a sneak preview of my mental health journey in this hospital.
I’m hearing about delusions, feeling watched, psychosis…
I do apologize to everyone who was around me, the money men, too, since that message came through my website immediately after that — my actual bank being shut down — and I thought they might have hated me, but then, what that situation provoked, I don’t know how that related to the past. I have no clue what to say about how it was handled either. My heart almost exploded. I had to count seconds. The pain I went through was severe. So were the sensations through my body. Again, I can’t speak about the past. I had plenty to work out even if you take what else was going on around me. I’m like a new person, still me, but integrated, not disconnected. I’m not operating in the same way anymore. It’s been a couple of years…
At least, I can vouch for myself that this story was hard and how it was handled scared me further. Whoever did send me that message…it put me in the hospital but maybe that was for the best since that seemed to put me through the worst of this so I could move on with a totally un-manipulated organism. I guess. My mother seemed to come from a lineage, that too, really crazy. That was a complicated family structure.
The characters that the real people inspired — there was that leg. That was rather moving. Just the realness of one’s upbringing, their relationships, their thoughts about themselves. My whole story changed, my whole understanding. And then, a Gotham City Trilogy character enters right on cue…since this was a multi-level thing. Even me imagining like this was tense, um, can I? Yeah, it’s fine. My story— lie, truth, I mean, I had a real complex. It held me back. If I started to imagine high concept, it could freak me out…now, I can.
And my story, once again, totally shifted. So, I was also still attached to an old story, that took time. Especially my second surrogate mother. Ah, so, she did care…is that what I’m feeling, the realness of this? So a sneak, the one I really remember, she inspired a character, and they helped me let go, imagine another way, another scenario, how about this? A tear-jerker, even, sounds fun, real, “right.” It’s just characters…new ideas…a fiction. My father wrote, “love is the greatest invention,’ so.
I’ll take it.
I don’t know what this means as a thing, I’m just telling you what happened.
That was a rather miraculous year of healing…it came to a head.
Just ask what’s going on in my body, thanks.
Are you feeling things down there? Yeah. Is that easy to say? No. Not in my case. Do I know what to do with that? Not really. That was before too, just to add, I dealt with these feelings earlier. I didn’t need to hold that in but “it was a lie” so I couldn’t bring myself to talk about it just thinking about people who go through this…I could ferociously explode at the lie…so no one needs to know, I can just handle this quietly but that came into physical doubt.
I don’t even want to talk about it.
If that brought a final blow, too, like —wake up. I mean, I do not know.
I think when a woman talks about rape every Sunday…and my father’s Alzheimer’s, denied, meant he told me that someone was raped in my room…what is that? Can someone help me understand that? I figured she was a victim of child abuse at four and I found someone else in church at four with a similar feeling…really. I tested his reflexes. This was me. “Remember me” I heard this in my head at four before I left for this Brazilian house.
If you feel things, you might just want to vocalize that, just to say.
I have to let it go — personally. People care about these subjects.
Thanks for reading.
More from Hades coming.
