Making peace with the past

Last night, I had a dream. Someone who came into my life last decade popped up, and I woke up in the middle of the night with anxiety about coming back because that relationship went so awry.

I sometimes regret my decisions at the top of my thirties, so I sat up in bed and tried to make space for my feelings and where I am now.

At the end of my twenties, I met an older gentleman who worked with plant medicines, so he brought me into a world. At a distance, first of all. We commenced an affair long distance, which, I wish, I didn’t do, so I put someone I met recently aside, as I contacted a friend of a friend who had a place in NYC online, and he sent me a video of his dick, truly.

He didn’t say, we should go out when you get back, or when I get back, he wanted to have sex online. Am I supposed to be flattered? Even the fact that he’s a friend of my friend freaked me out. I don’t know what their relationship was, has been, and I say that because of what happened with the person who reappeared in my dream. But I also saw a ferry traveling between Brooklyn and the East River, I saw a well-known actor hanging outside of a plane taking pictures, so I woke up feeling clearer, actually, about what I’m doing right now — that’s essentially what I’m doing. I’m hanging out of a plane, taking pictures of the view. That made me feel better because it directly related to my waking life.

I didn’t leap last month because I was scared, because I thought I would keep trying to bring work in, I don’t know if that’s silly, actually, but I found a job, another one, and I let that go, as this traveling has taken its toll, and I wasn’t thinking clearly in that moment. There was interference from various sectors in my life, and I didn’t want to spend my life on a computer, so, what can I say? I can’t believe I went into this plant medicine group and made it my main community. That’s where I met the man in my dream.

I had no instincts to go out and meet people, and I had to laugh; I had none. And this ex-boyfriend of mine, I had to put him aside, as a friend, even, because his attitude towards me was bizarre. In the end, he said, “you can contact me because you don’t have anyone,” when that’s not true, first of all, and why wouldn’t you just tell someone, as a therapist, basically, to go out and go make a life… it was so mixed up.

I have that basic desire now. I always had friends, but I traveled and didn’t successfully anchor myself somewhere and build a community. I have friends, and I can cultivate and strengthen my ties, but when I look back on it, I see that I had a strange system of operating. I ended up in a plant medicine group, and I didn’t need to over-focalize on my past, I didn’t need to spend that money, either. It really didn’t work for me. And this ex of mine brought me into this group —even though he admitted that I wasn’t introduced to this “work” properly. I came from a background that required sensitivity. I appeared and felt fine to him, and I’ve always been fine, but I had never opened that sex scandal I was in. My parents were both mentally ill, so.

And I just didn’t see it. I didn’t see any of it. Why would I mix up romance and drugs and therapy? I would never do it again, like this. And I don’t really care about drugs, to be frank, and why would I want to get involved with them? It’s way too complicated to the point that I would rather steer clear. And he’s a former addict. I don’t know anything about this world. I don’t know anything, and I don’t judge anyone, but why was I here? Exactly? Doing drugs with this guy? Outside a container, even? I couldn’t believe it. We began a relationship, at a distance, and he would visit once a month, and we would take these substances, you know what I mean? Why did we do this? To expand my mind? Explore new experiences? Today, I look back confused. I went to a group, my first time, to try a nonwestern framework as psychology was always my passion. I ended up in a relationship I had no interest in being in, and I was participating in the casual use of substances. Again, I don’t care, people take drugs from time to time, even my friend said that, but I got involved with this man, abroad, and came back to the US — though our relationship was on the rocks — because he wanted me to make a commitment that I couldn’t make. I wasn’t living in his city. And if I had been in touch with my anger, I would have just broken up with him.

And it didn’t help me at all, it was like the “guru” I met afterward, where I felt like my childhood story, in communicating it, didn’t bring me positive feedback, at all. I get I’m “gifted,” “special,” all this nonsense, not to say it’s not true, but I don’t know what exactly made me gifted or special. I became psychic — right here. Not to say I’m not intuitive, but it took me four years to work out the mess in my head, over this psychic period, so that finally, I could have a dream, even, where I felt like I recognized my own mind, even. The psychic period, man, that was a comedy routine.

I’m beginning a new book in my life, forget chapter. I just got here, as a person.

When I returned to the US, I stayed with my ex, first, before I continued on to LA, and I met an enigmatic gentleman, according to a lawyer, who I’ll name Pippin. I started hanging out with him, someone who is a drug addict, was a drug addict, I can’t do this. He takes these drugs all the time, and his genius, or something, makes his case different, I can’t do this, so he was permitted to take lots of drugs. This is who I got close to. And, to be honest, he’s a helper, he wanted to help me, and this help shadow followed me when the help didn’t help me — I didn’t have to take an apartment for free, write all day to be a writer, but this person seemed to know what that meant, though he didn’t. I got a job at a psychedelic publication when that was totally unnecessary. I needed to keep my goal clear. I did not need to “practice writing” like that. Practice writing on the weekends? Having a free place in NYC was amazing, I could have saved so much money, but I didn’t.

I ended up hooking up with one of his friends, and they had a deeper relationship than I knew, and what can I say? I don’t know what to say about plant medicines. I’ve read positive feedback about them, in that, they’re able to help people access repressed memories, such as abuse, so in that case, I cannot speak to what they brought up. I was not prepared. It went terribly, just terribly, with these two people. And I really wish that it didn’t, actually. And Pippin, why he called me to rub this guy in my face, I don’t know, because honestly, the second I heard that they had a deeper affair, the interest was gone. They had something going on, so I am not here. I never wanted to get involved. Pippin even called me once I left my job because of racism, which I didn’t understand, because he said, he didn’t want me to go through anymore pain? Over racism? Was this a setup? What was he talking about? He goes on some long chain — I do not care WHO told you what! His current girlfriend is lovely, I do not CARE for this person! It’s been years. She told him, he told him, like, that’s not true. My boss called you, no? I was so confused, why are YOU calling me? Ever left a job? Like they weren’t going to pay me. This Pippin, man. I don’t want you to go through any more pain, he said. And there are people protesting outside my window, literally speaking, over racism! I left because of racism. Okay? In the middle of these protests. I had three people on the phone speaking to me about racist comments. What was this phone call? Pippin acted like he liked me, seriously, even, when he didn’t. I got the message — I see him, in any way shape or form, and I’m Neapolitan, if I gotta throw a trash can, you see, I ain’t hesitating.

I guess all those people were rich, basically, and my ex said, “you’re my poorest friend,” okay. I had money, first of all. Second, why am I here then? This one drove me nuts.

Looking back, Giggino was right, my cousin, an aspect of my personality concerned him — I was too bright and open — acting like there aren’t people to watch out for, out there. I had a couple of tough parents within me, and I didn’t, at this juncture, take the regular high road: just get psychological support and try to work towards concrete goals.

But of course, I had decided that I wasn’t about that, so I went down a couple of roads in my thirties that brought out the worst in me, it felt, as the people who came into my life didn’t really know what they were talking about. They weren’t right, and I say that less because they hadn’t carried out their lives to great success, it’s just, that didn’t apply to me. Why these people wanted to help me, I don’t know. It did not help. I didn’t need help. I wasn’t unfortunate. I lived in the Chelsea Hotel, cool.

Now, I’m here, in a better place, I would never have gotten THAT wrapped up in this group. With Pippin, I would have suggested we get tea downstairs occasionally. I’m not going to take drugs with you. You know? Even as a friend. I would enjoy tea. I mean, I didn’t exactly get involved in a traditional or clinical setting. I would have gotten a regular job and worked on my writing career, not for a psychedelic publication that can’t pay me well, could, to practice writing in an area that doesn’t align with my goals.

But Giggino is — lovingly looking around with my sweet curls while watching soccer in Naples, Italy — I could express interest in anything, everything, so I had a problem with focus. This shaman said it, but his approach was so confusing, so this method didn’t work. Did he mildly show romantic interest in me even? What? I’m sorry but… I didn’t need this.

I would have never gotten involved with Pippin’s associate. Why would I be interested in him to begin with? Not to say he isn’t a nice lad, I guess, but he’s not my type. Now, I would take the Chelsea spot to save a crazy amount of money. NOW, I could really use that kind of setup for a couple of years, so I could put away that cash, recoup my losses. But you live and learn. I was living in LA, and I moved to NYC, I couldn’t sit still, though I guess NYC feels better, I don’t know. I don’t know if I’ll end up in NYC or LA, this time, because it’s a whole new world, I have no clue, but I’ll start in NYC because I’ve been abroad for four years. I am not talking to my current family, right now, either, because they scared the living shit out of me.

That was a real-world end.

I had a dream with this man last night, Pippin. After all, I exchanged with these two gentlemen in March 2020, because I wanted to get my money back, I had invested in a company. I got a message through my website at 5 AM, I was already up, about my actual bank being shut down. I received that message in my gut, directly, though I had been struggling with the physical experiences I started to have over whether or not there was abuse in my past, so that sent me into the worst experience of my life. Did they send it? My therapist thinks that they did. These gurus in LA thought I had attracted someone from Nigeria from the ether to deliver myself “the final blow,” and I do not speak to them anymore, either. Pippin, when it was all said and done, got on the phone with me — after I was in the hospital over this — and proceeded to fart long and hard at me on the phone. So I got the message, regardless. And my ex, his friend, in fact, said, “he sometimes treats people in unimaginable ways, I do not understand it,” so, in the end, he could have very well sent me that message that could have killed me.

Seeing Pippin in my dream frightened me. He told me that he can pull underhanded and even crazy shit. I woke up with anxiety, though it quickly dissipated. I mean, no offense, but why would he even care? I’m just some woman. I doubt he would be that bored, quite frankly, to even still think about me. I don’t. He’s persona non grata. Do I know you? But I had a fearful moment, last night. Stay away from me. All of you. This whole group. My ex still talks to me as if I were psychic, which is boring. I told him I do not subscribe anymore, and still, he insists. N-O.

What a year that was. That was my plant medicine experience. Anyway, that’s it for today. I am going back to New York next month, and I am finally making progress on my short story about Miracle Mile, the sex scandal I was in when I was four. I feel happy about it, happy about its potential, too, to resonate, and — I can’t totally unpack these dreams, if they actually reflect my feelings about myself, but I never had a problem with my self-worth or about my ability to succeed in life. I don’t think. I had a good/bad complex, which I know, that prevented me from performing, which is gone now.

I feel un-special, even, just a regular person these days. I don’t know what’s wrong with it. The guru — he really drove home that I was SPECIAL in ALL CAPS, when, what did that do for me? Did I not think I was special? I was so confused by these people! Are writers wrapped up in their specialness? Are people wrapped up in that? It didn’t appear like a good look— to be frank.

He believed I could make it big— and my cousin Chris would be the one to start to slow clap, you know? What is she doing? It didn’t matter. So I could make it big, folks, somehow, because I was SO SPECIAL? I don’t know what made me special, exactly. Was it my personality? My resilience? My talent in…? In what? What was so special about me? Was I that pretty to them?

But to this guru, anyone and everyone can make it big. So, Chris is still clapping. I’ll take it, I hope I make it. It’s just, wow, that decade really sucked the life out of me. I got psychics and gurus and drug addicts and geniuses. I missed Jersey, you know, just a regular place with regular people — my cousins. So I went on an adventure, and I’m trying to change my attitude about the whole thing.

I’m headed back to New York, the dream felt clear to me, and I needed to feel decisive. I’m hanging out outside a plane, taking pictures. I’ll go have fun, go meet people, pursue what I want to, and hopefully, I’ll have a successful forties. I’ll make it, as this guru thought I could at the top of the last decade. I guess. I would suggest action over meditation, to be honest. I’d like to meet someone. No more weird mentors, weird dynamics.

Gotta get back to my awesome short story about the sex scandal I was in, as I plan to sell that first, before I venture into the EPIC known as CHRISTMAS IN NAPLES, a sport, not a hallmark holiday. God bless.