Carl Jung's The Red Book, he said, that's what I went through...

So, I went through Carl Jung’s The Red Book. This is what someone told me who I hardly spoke to, I mean, truly, during this experience, and I’ve had to sort through the feelings he projected onto me to assess what was true and not true. He is psychic, in other words, he has a superior feeling sense. Didn’t really help me.

Years later, I had to — hold on, wait a minute, how do you know what I went through? I did initiate a therapeutic event in the middle of that, but hold the phone. This relationship was weird to begin with. Was it not? But I’ll take that I’m…extraordinary to him, an extraordinary talent. Sure.

Thus far, in my life, I’ve been called Carl Jung (in his more experimental phases), Barbara Harris, Joan Didion, a portal, channel, and antenna traveling on multiple planes of existence, and the person who would have spoken to animals in the fifteen century. Also a countess, in some capacity. Or someone with the ability to marry a man with a plane. Oh, yes, and I reminded someone of Lady Gaga. So, here we go. At her more unguarded moments, and I thought, hm, maybe I should be a bit more on guard. Wow, that’s quite a line up, isn’t it? Oh, and Dante, in Naples. I am known…as Dante, to my cousins.

Yesterday, I wrote a long post about the film that I am making, I must speak with this kind of certainty, Once Upon a Time on Miracle Mile. It’s based on these insane four years that I spent in a Brazilian-Jewish household because Dr. J, my mother, manipulated this woman with money and told her that my father was a child molester which then triggers her to play a game with him — truly — because he acted so guilty or so strange or both. And guess what? It was a train wreck. I was four, at the time, so there was only so much I could do, literally speaking. But I was in this situation. Four years later, I’m running across the La Tijera Shopping Center — headed for the Sheriff’s Office…at eight.

It has a happy ending, in a sense, where a family is going to end up adopting her… which isn’t the real story, but it turns out that the real can inspire many stories… and I felt that, as a first movie, I could do that well. Not heady. A big drama comedy. That’s what it was. So, that might not have been believable in real life, but on screen, it is…somehow. If not…some kind of real reflection of real life…

I took some time to consider what about that story would resonate at this time. So I might as well bring that central drama to the surface, which was, to call social services or not… and that, putting a kid through foster care…is considered dangerous. There’s a real risk, even, in how that’s going to go. So, I could use my story, since that didn’t happen, to open up this world, with such thrilling ingredients such as Celine Dion and athletic superstars and take us through a fictitious though true path…what would they have done in my case?

Yesterday, I mentioned this 5 AM message that came through my website at the end of the year that I reopened my past: March 2020 – March 2021. I ended up in the hospital the day after Mother’s Day for a day, couple of nights. It was quite a year where I went through experiences I couldn’t explain because this Brazilian mother who brought me home decided that my father wasn’t, but then, I found doubt. So, that’s on that end.

I ended up having a light anxiety dream last night about talking about that 5 AM message, like why? Someone sent it, that’s all I know, and I asked for my money back the night before. I had never received a message through my website, even, in my life, truly, that my bank was going to be shut down. On the surface, as a couple of sentences, one might go, well, that’s perfect timing, right there. Which it was.

I felt scared before I even contacted them. Didn’t want to. But it’s my money. It’s been over two years. Things didn’t go well with them, and I feared that they hated me, so when I got that message — I thought, oh this is them. I didn’t even think twice about it. It was too crazy though… conceptually, which really got me caught up. And the thing is, I was up at 5 AM working, and I received this message physically in my gut: a block of stone — in my gut —  move and hit another. This message, regardless, impacted me physically, and I have no idea, admittedly, how that correlates with what I might have experienced when I was very young. Because I was struggling with what happened.

I went through was one of the most excruciating experiences ever. I couldn’t eat. Not knowing what to do about how this related to the past due to how intense that was. Was that a lie? Not able to wrap my mind around all that I was feeling and experiencing.

So, I woke up today, with this anxiety, again, almost feeling as though I had to expel whatever energy was. Didn’t even feel like me, like wait a minute. Why am I worried about speaking about some experience that I had that isn’t true to begin with! Meaning, they didn’t send it, but someone did. Stuff like that. What is this, sensation?

Like I’m in trouble if I talk about it — talk about what?

Who gives a crap, I thought, waking up, if I speak about my experiences? I don’t know what to say, because I more or less decided — no, they didn’t, they couldn’t have sent me this stupid message. However, when the man farted on the phone, weirdly timed again, after I got out of the hospital…when I didn’t know about this stupid message…it at least confirmed that this person didn’t like me.

Had no idea why this person came back around. And these people didn’t share with my friends, when they called them, that my behavior the first week of MARCH was beyond strange. Well, what happened? They would have asked.

Including my ex-friend, meaning, the one who got somewhat intoxicated by silly fame reasons and called himself my manager. He told me that this person, isn’t my friend. After claiming he would play one of my characters…oh, and a woman can’t play it? Like are you talking behind my back? Is that why you wanted to talk to me about your experiences with death? Acting underhanded. At the time, it just broke my heart. I couldn’t believe this person. And he told me, on top of it, about another friend, etc etc etc.

At the same time. Like this year had a build. Maybe experienced a miracle in there.

I had a basic problem… I had problems with how I dealt with crazy, quite frankly, and situations in which I had no clue what was going on. Didn’t have to take that on. Someone’s insistence that the apocalypse is coming. Just walk away Maria, no need to put on some clown act. But a man who acts like it’s really happening, how is that person saner than the person who is really on the other side of it? It really happened, already, and it’s really over. And then, look, um, the murderous thoughts, happened…before this. His. It sounds crazy, doesn’t it? I was like, why is this person talking to me about the goddamn apocalypse, like it’s really coming, so I was angry. Ooooh, I’m really on the other side of it, just ridiculous. But I was triggered on a level that I was not prepared for. I just didn’t need to take this on. I shouldn’t have gotten closer to this person. It’s just, step by step, I was like, WTF. Now you’re moving lamps, now you’re my manager, where am I?

I had to go back to step one, type of deal. “Why are you belittling me?” That was for the manager person. But all this, happening at the same time. Shut the door on that guy. “Is this your boundary thing?” What? That was the last straw. Shut the door. Don’t know what is happening here… but as your manager? I froze, not a good response. I just figured I would shut the door, there.

Then, this stupid 5 AM message with one person at least who made it clear that he didn’t like me. Afterwards. The fart. So who cares if I talk about it, it took me three years to get here, man. Where, I didn’t know if I had been abused back there, and I had to cut some people off.

So, listen to this, this guy I am no longer friends with, gives me some stupid speech about ego deaths, some stupid speech about awakening (which, sure), but he ends up telling me that I am a portal, channel, and antenna traveling on multiple planes of existence? This is my problem? Finally, when I reached out to this person to just say, I do not know WTF happened, were these lies true? Not even a “how are you?”

In general, when I started talking about that, I got silence, radio silence.

But ego deaths, skipping around, psychosis, sure.

My thirties were a crazy ride. Nothing I did helped. But the road to get here was the road. So the “red book” person, I had to go back to step one. I would have left the first night I ever hung out with that person.

“You do not know this person,” you see, I had these issues. “You do not know this person.” That, seriously, changed my life. “You do not know this person!” I was not comfortable, I had no idea what this was, I didn’t like to project, blah blah blah. That’s it. You do not know this person. So, that should clear up the chaos. Now, I’m straight. On the step one. That night, he said something that set the tone for the entire relationship.

“Life is not about what you wanna do, it’s about what you wanna know, what do you wanna know…”

Today, I would say, “why are you speaking to me like this?” I gotta go. That was the sign right there. I’m not getting involved in some weird relationship. And like, look, if I had that much to work out, who are you? What are you doing here? Am I that special? Upon first glance? Call Ryan Gosling, get his POV. Please, look at me.

For example, I ended up getting confused as to whether or not I was fed…before I left my house…all the time… right? Well, way way back there, this guy on our way to lunch — when I mentioned I was dating a chef — said, “the theme here is nourishment, I’m always feeding you…” I had no idea what that meant, today, I would say, dude, don’t we just have a recurring lunch date? Is that so unusual? Is a chef not a good idea to begin with! No cooking for me! No clean up, by default! Do you want to do something else? He thought based on his feeling ? That I wasn’t fed way way back there? I’m sorry, that ain’t no joke — if you feel like someone has been abused, you should say it directly and get the out of the way. He’s not a psychologist. “Why is this happening?” That’s all I had to ask.

So, wait, all these years later — this help thing. This shadow. Step one. It was so basic. You don’t talk about your story with just anybody. That’s personal. Though I suppose I might talk about it publicly, right, since that’s what a book is. I was writing about that, wanted to be open, you know, but that story caused me problems. That’s a boundary thing. Don’t. I do not want to bond over this, type of deal.

And I guess I’m expelling all this, but I never asked for help. I was not interested in that, in fact, but something was unresolved in this arena. Once I cleared that, I guess someone came into my life who simply wanted to maybe develop a script, me, not him, I mean, I’m not bothering this man. It’s my art.

I came to trust this person above anyone else ever in my life. I had to say stop, get this person out. He put a lot on me. Even his comment that “words aren’t the primary form of communication,” this was ridiculous! I had to work out of that. What does that even mean, you ask? Good question! Didn’t ask it. Absolutely crazy. Can I get real friends? Ready to test my psychic skills, for the love of God, apparently? What the F does that mean? I had no clue. The “I don’t know” thing, or “I guess this person must be right, on some level” — no! Maybe they’re not.

Just had to clear my mind, man, I have to be honest with all this esoteric talk.

The psychic talk.

I think back to the help I sought out/received — alright, that wasn’t the best approach. And I had some shadow in the “I don’t know” realm. Thinking about Barbara Harris, actually. I met two strong strong “I know” people. More than two. Looking at this psychic man teaching energy workshops, even, I’m just trying to get in touch with my intuition at this point… though I’ve had some mysterious experiences, it’s just, this was not my objective.

To become psychic.

To be psychic.

Do I look psychic to you? Meaning, when you first look at me, can you not not see it? On a comedy stage, someone would laugh, no? The psychic confusion! Doesn’t that make them psychic? Why are you putting your psychicness onto me? Hand. Palm. The religious palm. Should I play psychic characters? Sure, I’ll tell you of my experiences, but I had to put that aside, majorly speaking. I’m an X-MEN? Is this what I’ve come to understand after this decade?

It just did not help me. I worked that out, but it was rather basic. I do not know you, I don’t want to go into psychedelics as a writer… WTF. Like swerving. “You should do this,” he said, “to practice writing,” and that one, the me now — laughing.

“Do you know, LADY, how many ways there are…to practice writing?!”

This is what I said to myself!

Whoa, why am I here?

How did I get here?

Then, I have to frame this, positively, like all this experience is going to marinate and add value in my life. But a world ended. Thus relationally not the same. Why am I even here? This person confused me, like why is he saying that he’s “here” in such a way, when I never had that problem. You think that I had no one, okay, then just say that. It ended up stirring me up. Then, this one, what the hell even is this scene?

“You cannot disappoint me,” he’s pointing to himself, “you have my love…”

Time-out.

What?

What is this role play? Where am I? Do you love me? I just went into this freeze, like I have no idea what is going on. And if you don’t know what’s going on, ask. What is going on? I had these basic problems. Alright, back it up, this was weird. There’s imbalance here. Wow. This scene appeared so strange to me…

So that messed with my head. What that even was.

I can’t change how I reacted, what I did, all that. Wasn’t looking for that.

A question that actually helped me: would you choose this relationship consciously?

I had to take myself back to step one. I’m a girl, in a cafe, working on a book. That’s it. That’s really it. Now, I just wouldn’t approach anybody in the same way, like, uh, I’m out, I ain’t getting into any situation like that, I do have a choice, I get it, so why would I go back? So, you’re smart? So was Dr. J. And you even said it. And even that, now, I would turn — seriously?! Time to snap back. Time to find a comedy stage, bomb a few times, who gives a shit?

This is presence. This is healing. WTF? Smart?

This person could have exercised a little humility and a little I don’t know. And that’s across the board. Nodding, at nine, staring out the window. “I know” I said, is a major problem, nodding. This “I know,” I could see it, based on my feeling and these four years, “I do not know,” I said. I have no idea. I just got here. So this is how I will continue, since I ended up going through all the decisions that I made…for the purposes of healing…I will even stand against “I know.” I will investigate the Catholic Church. I don’t know… I thought, might just be my greatest strength. This was my internal monologue.

I had to almost take a step into “I know,” you see, lifting my brows, do you know? Get comfortable with… not knowing, in fact, like, who are you? So, I can’t necessarily agree, but if I was that repressed, according to this person, wouldn’t I need room?

Like, pointing at this guy, like he pointed at me… in this guru way. I know things, myself. He presented himself so well as an authority, even on psychology, having to hold myself back now… like hold on, I didn’t ask for this, I don’t have to just sit there and blink…or get caught up in areas that aren’t important… which are basic problems.

Get a house.

Root down.

What do you want to do? In your life. You can figure out “what you wanted to know” later. Sure, I wanted to be a writer, and what are you interested in writing about? I was just writing a book about my life, man! I said that! Had to hold my head, a bit, how did I get entangled up, which doesn’t negate this persona’ genius, smarts, aptitudes, whatever. Just go to a Jungian psychologist, this ended up being a rather basic suggestion and work out these architectural problems. Get a house. I did in Paris, but I had to work out my thirties. Just the road I took. Once I got back to the states. I ain’t blaming myself, either.

That was the end of a life. Where I can’t call some of these people because I don’t relate in the same way that I did, so why would I call? They don’t, so who cares? This person…who believed I was that special, that I’m going to enter some kind of psychological process with you, didn’t call me once after I got out of the hospital. This was the closest person to me. Not the other way around. Ouch. If that person was in the hospital, I would call them, so, I had to cut it off.

Too confusing.

I would rather call my friend with whom we have a mutual back and forth that feels easy. I’m not looking for advice. I didn’t want to become a problem. My family life was dramatic, but hey, here’s a simple solution — get the fuck out. Which I did. Interestingly, he pointed to me — you do not have to manage the shift in reality. When I was leaving… I asked him, what about responsibility? He thought that was interesting. Sure, just leave your family, man. Go ahead.

WHAT was this? Some unconscious “help” thing? Why am I here? Okay, backing up, with hands. Had to work that out. In some capacity.

Mutuality is a word I prefer. I suppose people put stuff on you, or whatever, and people leave. I left. I had to. Like, blame was never my approach, though I struggled with my relationships as of late, which I’m moving out of now. I’m not calling anybody, I’m not spilling out, I’m dealing with my feelings privately.

Okay, thinking about this producer, it was such a simple exchange. “Good story,” why not write a movie? “This is an unusual story,” he looked at me, simply. That was it. “We will talk when I have time.”

That’s what I was seeking to bring into my life.

Hilarious, squinting at myself, if that’s your end game, then…you can start…now. Shaking my head. But now, I could step on stage, you know what I mean? Make people laugh as a confused psychic. A portal channel and antenna traveling on multiple planes of existence, you understand, how that could get confusing! Someone came up to me at a book opening party…”you’re from another dimension, aren’t you…” it wasn’t even a question. It was — it’s true, no? Uh. Is that what I appear like? Can you imagine me on the mic? Let us — is there a Tom? In the audience? A Tom? Brad. Um, let me guess, “you’re looking for that special someone.”

“You have a grandma…” that, that I know for sure.

So, guess what? Want a hilarious alien movie? Or a movie where I came back from the other side with the spirit of Barbara Harris? Sure. I am from another dimension, maybe I should begin speaking like this. Things are different there. Colorful. Even. And I’m not saying that I haven’t had some far-out experiences, especially with Barbara Harris… but in my new life, I need real friends, friends who are ready and willing to test my psychic abilities. What does this mean? What can you do? So much to ask? Words are not your primary form of communication — even, now, please, someone will laugh, no? At all this? What am I supposed to do with this? I have no idea where this even came from!

I actually had to go — no. You don’t know. That person has no idea what’s going on…inside of me… no one…is in this room with me right now… I am not an antenna, some psychic antenna picking up on the Earth itself! No thanks. I suppose we can feel one another, in some capacity, and there are people who are particularly intuitive, and I’ve had some experiences, for sure, but I’m not sure if I’m going to…remain.

But then, not the same person. I can’t help that. So, that’s another facet…I’m on the other side going…who? Who even was that? Meaning me. Doesn’t mean I’m calling people though. I’m just moving on…

Just because this “help” thing — had to adjust these “mechanisms” since I am revealing “the psyche and its mechanisms” according to Vogue Italia, in a totally hilarious biography. And it turns out to be true, you know, if you read science news, this is what scientists do, they study the mechanisms of how this all works. Blew my mind. It really did. Using the word mechanisms every day.

But this help — thing — seemed to put me in some weird category that wasn’t exactly true. Though, I guess, I had stuff to sort out, but I didn’t need to…do it this way. Closing one eye shut. Holding it there. So I ended up providing that for myself.

This stranger, another revelation: I did not KNOW this woman who took me out of my house at four. She helped me, no? Though that was complicated. And I kept getting help, in a sense, though in college and France this problem sort of went away, but then, I came back to the states, was exploring therapy options, and didn’t end up getting the help that I suppose I had to give myself. So why am I here? To begin with.

I had money, not a lot, but I wasn’t…in need of help…in that way. I was just living my life. I don’t know. I had a backbone. But when I look back on it, if someone could have just — show me what you got, okay? Since you don’t even need money, for the love of God. Just some clear-headed pointers. A, b, c. I could have used that. From someone I could trust in that regard. Who to trust, shiver. Do you see what I’m saying? Now, in retrospect, I can think clearly through these steps. But that’s the way retrospect goes. Like my best friend ended up becoming my actor/manager. And my closest friend wasn’t actually my closest friend. So, that hurt.

I did an overnight hypnosis last night where I’m supposed to reprogram my unconscious belief system…going, um, I don’t even know. But I can do anything now, that I know, and living abroad like this could not interest me less. I feel sort of stuck right now here, for the time being, because I gotta move.

But I’m finishing my book, you know, and I met this producer out here, so I’m not trying to make a PROBLEM out of all this. When I’m just talking…I even said, bring me more opportunities like that, no? More producers. Isn’t that the way? Heck, a modeling career.

I woke up here, sort of going, I don’t know if I had this kind of belief problem — like plenty of people write books. I’ve had a hard time finishing this one, but I also approached this task in a funny way, it’s okay. I’m here now. I worked hard to get here. My mother alone was challenging, my family was. I had to put up some major boundaries. I had to forgive myself for not exactly steering in the way I would have liked to…because plenty of people come from all sorts of backgrounds…and make their way…so that’s where I am now.

Boundaries — as a basic principle — keeps everything in check. There’s no problem. There’s no — I have to listen to this person — or, I’m just safe. That’s the base. I couldn’t even read my own signals. If I don’t feel comfortable, I’m just not going to get close to that person or I’ll proceed with caution. There’s a lot that I worked out in the relational department. Guess what? You cross a line, and I’ll let you know.

I used to say that there is no such thing as an ultimate framework. Isn’t it also true that some people have a terrible viewpoint on themselves and are also successful? I don’t know, but these days, I can’t even really think. I don’t have to feel in any way, so what’s the point? I don’t know what to write about exactly, but I’m starting with my own life, which is annoying, sometimes, given the time that it takes, and not ever having been someone who wanted to dwell there. “Just a book.”

But I guess I had a lot to work out. Now, I don’t know, was I fed? Dunno. All the time…? Was I bathed? Since this person believed this to be the case. He suspected. Okay. Could have told me that — way back there, I suppose? And I don’t know if the lies were true in which direction.

Anyway, I got through it.

I could probably sue Bellevue, thinking about it. Just because my story was what it was, and none of my friends — thought that was pertinent information to share? But regardless, based on what I said, my stories implied abuse. And it’s their job to be able to handle trauma. And everybody knows that they can’t.

Plus, they sedated Lisa Rios when there was no reason to. I don’t know what her condition is, but she was sitting quietly, beginning to speak about her feelings with me… since these people asked me to speak with people, and I was there, regardless if I was going through agony. Since they, themselves, seemed to not know what was going on with me, and if they do tape the observations, I can find the part where I am on the floor, struggling with sensations down there, and go — hm, ever see that before? Nodding at them. It took me three years. Can’t have a trauma specialist somewhere…if hospitals have surgeons? That they can call…?

They didn’t give me anything. They listened to me. No drugs. Again, your bill of rights, since I spent some time there. They sedated Lisa Rios when number 2 says, they won’t do that. Aren’t showers, someone taking showers, a sign? Why did they sedate her? Because I began asking her…how she got here? Looking at the speakers. It might take a second for stories to get clear, but I could start to hear something, and then, her sister called — right when we started getting real, isn’t that interesting? And then, they sedated her. She wasn’t acting out, though, she was just sitting there.

Lunging to care for someone… when they came in…crying…and fell to the floor…I just crouched down, as this person was going to just take her off the floor, like RELAX, “are you okay?” Gentleness. Just a touch. Didn’t want get sedated. And she let me do that, okay, well, go to sleep, so she got off the floor, by herself, and I’m here if you need to talk… no? This is what I mean.

In any case, that aside, I could probably sue Bellevue. Just because I come from that story, and what was I supposed to do? When I am on the floor, struggling with sensations down there? Are you not watching at that point? It was late, I think. I can’t press a button, nurse. I couldn’t wrap my mind around all this…You don’t give people water, even? Wouldn’t this be asinine in a regular hospital? Considering the effects of dehydration? I said that, in a sense. Where’s the water? I came out…once again, me, into this hallway. I brought her some water… since no one, I get your watching, administered care. I didn’t linger, because I don’t want to get sedated…just left the water. And, hilariously enough, someone told me that care is actually a sign in there.

Of mental health! I was like — damn.

I diffused my own health care plan, and guess what? It worked better than the nothing that happened in here. There are good people in there, etc., because this woman was right, I can’t cry. I can’t cry. You’re human, and THANKS, but you’re going to have to keep that down. You don’t suppress that. You should be equipped to allow some emotional room. Get a soundproof room, you see? Health care. Whoosh. I learned a lot. I was quite transparent about my process, as well.

I kept asking for more, socks, pjs, sheets, I even changed the sheets. You see, in the end, since I was there for two nights but really one full day of observation, though I do not know the HOURS they keep, but I do know that the so-called doctors come around at 10:45, around there… if I remember correctly.

That morning, I got a BIG towel. A proper towel. When I was given two tiny ones. So, wait, sitting down, I get some reward? Or, did they do this because I took so many showers? One should encourage one to shower… it hit me, oh, people don’t shower… I say that because I was the first one out, as far as I remember, that was in. And I got two phone numbers and a hug on the exit. I really did.

I’m not even trying to say that I wasn’t going through an event. It’s just, I came out of that…had to deal with people…with weird ass conceptions of what that was… I went through a trauma event, some recollection of trauma, and this experience could have damaged me, and arguably did, in that it took me years. I was never informed — number one on the bill of rights — of my diagnosis. And I kept asking. Sure, you have to evaluate, but what are you even doing? So you mean, number one, you will be informed, on your exit papers, what your diagnosis is… hmmmm… reading this.

William James, people, “a hallucination is strictly sensational form of consciousness,” and I felt sensations most definitely. You have no idea what the body is. And, from my feeling, looking around, like this means a thing, since I have no real place to place that, they might have thought that I was dealing with something of that nature. Based on my feeling.

I’m mostly angry at the hospital, who looked at me like yeah, hmmm, when the stories I told implied something, and I could even give you a GOOP article to read to clarify a couple things.

That took me three years…a whole process I still don’t know what to do with. But I was put in your care, and everybody knows that mental hospitals are unequipped to deal with trauma. Hopefully, that night is on tape — see? Right there. Clearly struggling on the floor. So, in any case, I don’t know what to say about that, because what am I to do, at this point?

Are you having hallucinations? Would it be a better approach to begin to assess where the sensations might be coming from? When it comes to these sorts of problems, since I was thinking about it, at the time, if these health care professionals were able to interrogate, so, are you saying that you’re feeling things down there? Would that be crazy to do? Like, I might not be able to handle that, but there is someone who can maybe assist you through this…

True mess.

These are my two cents. I don’t know how this corresponds with my unconscious belief system… but I woke up needing to get this out of my system, regardless.

If the hospital was equipped to deal with trauma cases, I could have gotten out of that experience with a more supportive network… look, my best friend scared me, yeah, with his “totally would murder a person” talk. And his claiming his position in my life as my actor and manager, blah blah blah. Just because writing about my life ended up bringing a lot to the surface that I just didn’t know what to do with it.

I mean, I couldn’t believe it, when this person — came back around — not an accidental person — and says, you’re a really good friend and then fully farted on the phone. I just got out of the hospital. And then, lunatic number two, my manager/actor, doesn’t even listen to me. Stop using family language. No one in my life can ask — why? Maria, what’s going on? Were you struggling with your family? What might have happened back there? Everyone knows that side of health care needs reform, that I get.

Again, it’s not up to my friends to understand how to handle a trauma case, but the hospital should know. Should have a better understanding than they do, since here we go, “why did he talk to you like that,” she even said on the entry to this hospital. Hello, I said, I am here, didn’t I? Basically. I’m going to have to stand up, in fact, here we go, because you’re going to put the person down… not everybody, but systemically, sure.

It dazed me, some therapist, even, said the stories I was telling had to do with belonging, look, that might be true too, I guess, but there was a BODY. I don’t know what to say about the gut because I couldn’t resume normal eating until I admitted that the message felt intended, that someone did it, I just don’t know what to do with that, because someone did. Then, I could eat, more easily. And I couldn’t rely on my family, you see, even taking this manager/actor into consideration… through the heap of confusion I was in. Who keeps on…going against my wishes. As your family…

Think about it. Take two seconds.

Anyway, I wouldn’t even ask for money. I would give it to them. Call it a REFORM fund. I will think about a medical drama where we can explore this and more. I know what it is, if anyone is interested. One sentence. Won’t take up too much time, the elevator door closes, and it’s done, I’ll even get off on the very next floor. Take the stairs. Laughing as the door closes. Running up really fast…to appear… on the next floor.

I can’t make any claims here — around that message — but regardless, people send crazy shit, cybercrimes, I just read about some crazy scam where people get naked photos of men and blackmail them, so — that might have been exquisitely perfect timing, but that actually impacted me. There was no ask, so I suppose that was supposed to…inspire me to respond to the email…through my website…? Some pure fear tactic?

It was a ridiculous message to begin with.

It was just my actual bank. After this amicable email exchange. But again, the summer before, one of them called me when he didn’t have to. “I don’t want you to go through any more pain?” What pain? WTF. What do you know about my pain? What about the middle finger you gave to me on the sly? Dude. The fart. I was like, uhhhhh. I didn’t need to hear — you don’t want to get on that guy’s bad side. Do you know what I mean? Sorry that didn’t work out, type of deal, but like, I wouldn’t approach therapy like that, you know? Just a major whoa.

I tried to reaching out to a couple of people before all that, and no one could have… heard me beyond some AWAKENING?

I can’t change how I responded to all that, but remember, all I sent was an apology email. Just based on their response, no one went, “what the hell is going on?” Why are you sending apology emails? Why are you freaking out? Nothing of that kind. Me? I’m asking that question. That scared me further. “Didn’t want any trouble,” he said, the middle man, and I was standing on 1st and 7th at the time, going me neither. A middle man was brought in to facilitate this exchange. Why? He didn’t go, I don’t understand why I am here. Does this reaction or display appear like anything but a scared person? So why was a middle man brought in? “I don’t need to be here, you’re not at risk…” since I asked him to receive the money for me. “No,” that would have been my response. “WHY? Why is my bank account necessary as some landing place?” You see what I mean? No. This is ridiculous.

No one said that.

I would have calmed down.

I would have said, I got some weird message. And I had no idea, freakish timing.

“No worries,” they’ll send you… your money back. Clean and clear. You can give them your account details.

That didn’t happen.

I get it, I sent the apology email, but they didn’t write back, they called. And based on the tone, I was thoroughly confused. I got off. I didn’t call back. What legal risk, honestly, would it have posed to write back — um, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why are you apologizing? You understand? To have some middle man not say the obvious — why am I here? No, I’m not taking this money for you, because you’re not AT RISK WOMAN. It’s true though. So a middle man was necessary…because a girl sent an apology email? And? She got freaked out that you sent her a message, and? Why was this person going, yeah, sure, I’ll take the money for you…why am I here to begin with?! No reason to be scared…

Sure, I felt like I deserved that, I had to deal with that later, but, uh, responding like, no, that clearly wasn’t me, you got freaked out, yeah, evidently, shit got weird between us, no need to say that. The apology email was an attempt to figure out if they did it, and now, I wouldn’t do anything. It was how that message impacted me that sent me — a block of stone moved and hit another — into a state. I never experienced anything like that.

At least, I can extend myself a little understanding. No one spoke to me as if…my behavior was abnormal.

Like a middle man is necessary…in order to simply receive my money, think about it. I’m just picturing myself as this middle man, why do I need to accept money for you? Everything is okay. Did something happen? Yes. Okay, then, I can speak. Alright, that was freakish timing. But then, the fart, especially.

Um, okay, Maria, as this person, I don’t know what’s happening, but just send me your account information, over an email, I hope you’re okay, and I’ll send that over. You see what I mean? Why was this dance even necessary? With this middle man.

So, thank you. I needed to clear that up for myself. As least support myself in why I got scared on my end. That they did. But it felt too crazy.

That’s it.

Why are you so scared? I don’t need to take this money for you. Because you’re not in danger. No one said that. I was quite terrified.

And, “if they did,” I mean, I can’t live there. I have no idea, but, I called our shrink in common, hearing “what about you being a self promoter?” Seriously? I was just shocked, again, um, I was stunned on the phone. Is she going to tell me that she didn’t say that? I said I want nothing to do with them. There was no “who? What? I don’t know what you’re talking about…” truly speaking. So I got scared, frozen.

So, feeling into that whole moment in time — I’m in another world.

But that was the year I opened up my past.

I could hardly post a photo on Instagram! Self-promoter. I have to laugh.

And now, I am where I am, like, uh, did I have a belief problem? Why is this person sending me this? I just wanted to write a book… at the end of my twenties. Thirty. Coming out the other side. I could be amazing, not you’re already amazing, which is why…I’m here… you don’t get why my family gives a shit about me, but you were a stranger off the street who showed the most. That’s where I ended up.

So I got my cousins. They are just my cousins. And that is a simple exchange.

I think on the help front, I’m chill. I don’t agree with some of the approaches taken with me. That’s all. But, now that I’ve worked that out, that shouldn’t be a problem, since one has to deal with themself. I wouldn’t have done…step one, in most cases…type of deal.

I’m most definitely in the driver’s seat.

Quite a year. Quite a decade. But I guess… I mean, just please, I went to NYU because I felt time bend! Seriously. Twice. I’m telling you. It’s funny, this is the path. Taking responsibility for whatever this unconscious organization was…my psychic powers… laughing… I just don’t know how that relates to my parents, but wow, that’s quite a story, isn’t it? Miracle Mile. A great motion picture, with feeling. So I’m visualizing that happening. I’d love that.

And I’m finishing a book…

All that is fine…

Some girl’s blog post…

Who cares?

I hope someone does.

I’m just — looking around like whoa, I had to sort out my thirties. Still in them, but that ended up being a whoosh of decade. Can’t believe I’m here. I’ll always be grateful to the artists that let me stay at the Chelsea, it’s not a feeling that extends across the board, even with one person, but it’s just that — this whole way lends itself to problems in simply expressing feelings… So, now, I could probably take that opportunity – and pass, probably. I might work there, instead, to keep an eye on it, and figure out the rest. That was a cool place to be, and I got to set a story there. The beginnings of one.

I don’t have many complaints, but it’s been challenging at times…so, I’m just using this moment to settle accounts, finish my book, get that going, and dream — Once Upon a Time on Miracle Mile — into being and start making my way back…so I feel like I’m doing all that mindset work…I brought in friends from the background… and rearranged some things.

I think “an unknown” ended up being a good goal, since, I feel that way, and I can go back to the states and pick up some things I left behind, on one end, and maybe open up to what my skill set actually is.

So, I’m envisioning the best case scenarios across the board. Miracles — opportunities drop from the sky, please! As I make my steps back to the states. And I have, I can see that I have some pathways of thinking that aren’t that positive…it can go really well… which I know… but this return back to the states…I just want to go back in the way that I’d like to… so I’m just manifesting those steps.

Since, looking back, all positive forward thinking, I would not have suggested that I take off as I did. But I can come back with experiences to share…and I keep on framing things in that way, even if this is all head talk, at this point. I don’t need anyone to tell me that. I just didn’t know that…that was my problem initially… if that makes sense. So, now, I’m here. And I’ll keep going.

I guess I had to expel that after that this sleeping hypnosis — plenty of people talk about manifesting as a real thing, so I’m trying to get clearer as to what I’m attempting to manifest, since this book has been challenging, but then, it ended up being a bumpy ride over the last few years, so I am “choosing to believe” it’s not, I don’t know what others might say, but I’m picturing the final result, that I can, and that’s it. My story has really changed, so — that took a second.

Conceiving of a movie took me considerable less time, however, it seems, and that really enlivened me. I suppose that’s a direction, also. I have a sense of what that is. Again, it’s just that message actually impacted me. Which was wild. Again, I was under a lot of psychological tension, given what I was doing, hearing, etc. But, that’s it, so who cares…if I’m talking about it? Certainly not the random person. I wondered a lot based on the experience that I had. Especially around the eating.. that was a real challenge, it turned out.

Again, no one “wronged me,” um, lifting my foot, um, I just left. Just cruising in at step one — now — what are you doing? Why are you here? You know? I get, on my end, this would have been — mum’s the word. Ain’t talking about my story, to just anybody. I don’t know you. I worked out these basic problems. That’s all one can do. So, on an unconscious level, I was looking for something, that’s the rules of attraction, right? And I’m not…looking for that… in fact… so good to be here.

I think, maybe unconsciously, we’re all alone, in a sense, in that, we go out and make our own lives… I can’t so much speak to the feeling I have that I’m at that point of unknown. And I always think about Good Will Hunting, because that ended up being a guide for me, throughout my life, in that, Robin Williams isn’t putting anything on that guy, right, it’s a different exercise, and that, in the end, he does reach an unknown but it was a journey to get there… where he doesn’t know…but he’s going after his heart, in a sense, the woman he wants…or who knows? He’s off.

You’re not supposed to talk about your relationships, but man, I found a couple of my closest to hurt the most, and that, sure, that sounds familiar.

I suppose I sorted out my parents, once I was able to identify who they were, so that was basic problem I had, you know, on some level, since my story was…true, sure, but I had to change it. From step one. So, both my parents were sick, at least, I can start there, and leave the rest in its proper place. Forgive myself, Jesus.

So my unconscious belief system has been dealt with in some capacity. Relational issues would make sense, I think, even if I didn’t appear to have them…at all. I mean I don’t really put stuff on people besides the exception, you see. I didn’t yell at people or blame people but now, I could fight or remain in connection, whereas I couldn’t, and I wouldn’t stick to people who don’t want to do that, I just mean, for the most part my relationships have been harmonious, but then, now, I look forward to meeting people at the place I’m in now. Basically. I could meet someone even. And I’m free to go, people have come and go from my life…

I’m not to blame… that was another deep one. In fact. I’m not to blame. And I feel like I used my cousins, in a sense, though they don’t know that, to work on my problems with ties. Like, no one is perfect, so that’s never going to happen, so I made some decisions based on my time with them…

I get scared about going back to NY or LA, we’ll see, so I’m working through that one… going, hm, who gives a shit about social media? Film didn’t, it seemed, like this film producer didn’t ask for my Instagram handle. But then, xmas in Naples, you know, there’s magic around it, I can’t describe it, but I’ll probably end up finally doing something around that, as I’ve started to, so I’ve just been working on clearing away that noise… so I can plug into my own guidance, and things are clearing up.

Even around social media itself! Like my friends, haters! What? I get it, look, I just got here, to this program, and the love/hate thing is superb! I couldn’t even believe this, I get out of the hospital, finally have the courage to dance around, film myself, put myself out there, and I have to hear caddy shit being said about me being on social media… wow. But hey, who cares? I just don’t…give a shit about one’s use of social media… regardless if they did, didn’t, use it. It’s just not my topic.

But I enjoy TikTok, at least, I can try out material or begin playing in that arena since I think I’d like to get into it. Performing in some capacity. I’ll probably go back to NY, I think, because it feels the most accessible to me, and I’ll try to get a job in production in some capacity, something, since I liked that environment. I’m sure I’ll sell my book and all that, but that’s my plan.

I said “no” to this job, which I wish I said years ago, like that ain’t my path. I just have less money, now, so, so be it. If I gotta get some job, I have one, and I’ll keep looking. On a matter of principle, I won’t go back. What I’d like, is — i’d like to finish this book, sort of let go of the need to “also discover the world” in a sense, sorry, I was four, and keep sending excerpts out. Hey, I’m sure there are times in people’s lives where they work, a lot, and look for more work…so that’s it.

I don't know where home is, that seems to be — an unknown, so I’ll be figuring that out — I don’t have that answer, but unless I get a student visa, blah blah blah, no more. Please, no more. I can’t stay here. But, I hear this from people, that they have to remind themselves to take advantage of what their city has to offer, so I’m trying to adopt the same perspective…for the time being. Gotta get back to the states. So, I guess after Christmas, I’ll move back.

That’s it, moved through that today…like why would I go back there…? In any of these directions… if it didn’t work? I feel like that’s basic. I don’t know what that unconscious belief system is, but from here, there’s a lot of places to go… I don’t need “that person” in my framework of thinking to tell me that as if I didn’t know. Since I felt like I had to clear people out of my heart, especially. I’m in a great place, also, I suppose, idea wise, so I’ll keep… believing… in myself… leave “that story” behind. That I did something wrong? Watch Once Upon a Time On Miracle Mile…

Let this Brazilian mother astound us all — the situation I found myself in. Let Michele — the atomic blond — show you what she can do with a soccer ball — deadly. Just because, it cracks me up, this Brazilian-Jewish family, seriously, if one of their own was in any kind of danger — it would be like an action flick. This Brazilian mother leading the way — big trouble. Huge. They’re busting in, no problem. Made me laugh. I thought it would be hilarious and satisfying. All things considered.

And like, I ain’t saying that I went through the worst experience on planet Earth. Okay, so I cleared that part, and I can’t get too scared since the US is — lots of fear, don’t come here. I don’t know…I’m in a bowler hat up above… Flora ringing my name, “Marrria?” Heading in for a landing. In a spaceship as I am from another dimension. The same one found in the hieroglyphics on Ancient Aliens, of course. I’m from Ladera Heights… hilariously.

happy Sunday…