Photo by Melissa LeGette on Unsplash
LOOK — I finally exploded at NATE — who recently lost his father, and he just holds a place for me that’s beyond some stupid concept of a relationship that I absorbed from someone we both know — an old professor with PROBLEMS.
I said I didn’t want to see him. “Why?”
I told him I have no idea what that was, I have no money, and I have to get some tests run physically because my doctor said, well, if you experienced sensations in that area of in your body, we should do an ultra sound, and no one ASKED me or HEARD that I was going through something physical. And I’m talking to a sexual trauma specialist who said, “well, could have been true about your father…” or… just true, so being shut down when I’m trying to basically communicate has been heartbreaking and terrible.
He doesn’t want to shut me down.
I’m telling you mental health is an OOMPLA LOOMPA routine. “OOMPA LOOMPA DO BEE DEE DO…” a dance I’d do, as a short person, around a very tall Barack Obama, “oompla loompa…” so I’m scared. I got shut down, ignored, and I just can’t handle it. So, we’re going to meet next week, and we’re going to talk.
Catch up. It’s not that I want to dominate the conversation, I just struggle with the the realizations I came to, the clarity I feel, and the questions I have, all the while, I don’t know, contending with a lifetime of decisions I made that were… a bit stupid.
I ate beets yesterday. I don’t think I ever experienced my urine being affected, so I’m just drinking a water bottle and anticipating that it will clear. I didn’t eat much yesterday, and I thought, yeah beets. I flipped out.
It’s more the frustration I have about how little evaluation actually happens with someone who ends up in the mental hospital. President Barack Obama would back me up. And the sheer anger I have at the idiots gurus and the people around me, due to not fault of their own, because it’s a systemic flaw, who didn’t go —
“Should you go see a doctor?” Just to make sure you’re physically okay? My physician said, “why did these people send you to a BODY WORKER?”
No one asked a question, what are you going through exactly? No? I wish I ended up in a regular hospital, next door. So you’re experiencing sensations in your guts, your… okay? Let’s run tests. OR, if there was ANY communication between the field of medicine, we might have a beter, more comprehension picture of the human body. I’m frustrated today.
“Why didn’t they do an ultrasound?” My doctor said, “I mean if you’re experiencing sensations down there?” But no one asks about the body in that hospital. Okay, sure, I came from a shitshow, but WHY people act like they KNOW what mental health is? Like then I have to deal with this GUY talking to me about what HE FEELS a psychosis is. And on that note, who CARES if I went through a psychosis? I have to read, now, that you might have swirling sensations? Why isn’t anyone asking questions in the hospital?
I don’t know what to say because my relationship with this Hollywood guru was a JOKE, telling me that a fictional character is a really good psychological device? I complained about pain, and he’s making up stories about my PAIN? PAST?
I started going through some experiences I can’t explain, so I don’t know what to say, in that area of my body. And no offense, but the CRAP I learned, as I’m a product of where I’m from, I’m not going, to the most BASIC conclusion: if things are happening physically, go to a doctor.
This guru is going to tell me — you’re doing it? You have the power to self-heal? I’m not in disagreement, per se, but his whole philosophy was toxic for someone like me. And where’s the psychedelic people? My physician was like, I mean, maybe you had an adverse experience? Though it had been years.
“I think you’re going to go through experiences,” this idiot guru said to me. Because he’s indirectly suggesting that I was repressed! This man who has literally no credentials, he’s one of these traveling magicians from the Middle Ages showing up in town with some clown, spouting wisdom and thoughts.
What a mess that was. And then, in the end, I asked these slytherins for my money back, and I got some random message through my website at 5 AM about my bank being shut down. The GURUS of Hollywood are SUGGESTING that I “called this in” to “deliver the final blow to myself,” MEANING?
Meanwhile, the psychedelic crew acts ALL WEIRD around. this message, I received that physically in my my guts, okay? With this HYPNOTHERAPIST asking me to describe it’s texture, my physician just wants to do an ultrasound. I received that message physically in my guts, I can’t explain that. Then I had this weird hip ghost pain, like, what the hell is this?
I feel so stupid, to be frank, generally, like, it’s like people in the US calling Obama Care unconstitutional — to a scholar of Constitutional LAW — because it forces them to see a doctor. “Don’t you want to?” If people went to their doctors regularly, they would be able to avoid most problems.
So now I got weird gut stuff. Sometimes.
I’m just chugging this water. I’m not in pain exactly, but I sometimes have discomfort, which I don’t know what it’s related to, and I’m not acting like I do, actually, so I’m just so angry at the lack of the human body or the talk of years of abuse of Amy Griffin including a graphic sound of this man’s BELT BUCKLE on a fucking floor — being called symbolic. SORRY.
I would rather not have anything be wrong, but everyone was a goddamn clown show. Okay? OOMPA LOOMPA DO BEE DEE DO, with friends acting like I’m brave? Because I had a medical emergency? This was the vaguest, strangest thing I have ever gone through.
“I admire your fortitude?”
How about, what the hell even happened? Do you need to see a doctor? Do you need someone to accompany you to the doctor? I mean, even in the case of mental health, in my case, you think there isn’t a body attached? Sensation? Absurd.
This stupid GURU telling me based on NOTHING, NOTHING REAL — just his superior psychic senses… that I went through a therapeutic event. I could kill this man. He was a psychopath. So please, please, just be the beets. I can’t even afford to run tests yet, not really. Not unless I take more money out of dwindling savings account, I’m telling you.
He and his brother — should be kept away.
Like I needed a guru. He was a lunatic.
Like I said, please, clear. I want to knock on wood, thank God for my health, and reach for optimal health.
NOTE: if someone gets out of ANY hospital, PLEASE, don’t act like you know.
What a headfuck that was.
And I’ll most definitely continue talking about my experiences.
I would probably be experiencing pain, I imagine, if there was… something other than the beets, but still, just in case, I’m going to run a bunch of tests with my doctor, to make sure I’m alright.
That guru was one weird guy. That was a weirdo.
Imagine, like over an I TANYA DVD, that my roommate lost — he’s wondering superiorly what the FEELING IS, as he called it a psychological set up to disappoint him, is a DVD that big of a deal???? Then I’m seeking to apologize, express my FEELINGS that I am indeed in touch with, idiot, to get some dramatic response:
“You cannot disappoint me you have my LOVE…”
Am I on Planet Earth?
THEN, I gotta PUT IT TOGETHER MYSELF WHAT THIS MAN MEANS…
That “disappointment is the base feeling with my father?” And why this conversation is even happening, I don’t know! And so he’s role playing and confessing his LOVE? What kind of FREAK was this maan? He deserves a real slap across the face, this Hollywood guru. No wonder the Obamas — aren’t fans of their daughter going into that world— WTF? And I wasn’t even really seeking to get into that WORLD!
I was writing a fucking book about my childhood — these crazy years on Miracle Mile that were — something OBAMA would shun, making speeches about the spectacle of all this, like enough. My question for my mother and her little henchman, GHOMI? A secret spy? Or, at least, a man who used to work for the government? My QUESTION is valid:
Was that true bitch?
Was I abused, lady?
Hearing some bullshit from Angelica that we “had fun.”
Yeah no.
Here I go, drinking water, not looking until tomorrow morning. Please. Only NATE thus far has acted like a real person. From Long Island, used to have a chin strap, and now has a Tony Award nom. NEXT?
I don’t want to be dramatic, I wish I didn’t eat the beets.
Then the friend who wants to assassinate a politician — right? He knew how he’d do it too — looney tunes. I bought a shirt, totally confused as to what was happening, one I knew he’d hate, and why did this man CARE that much? “What would you get rid of?” In a large closet, too. “This,” the one. And I got up out of my chair. “Well that stays.” “Is this your boundary thing?”
AND he’s playing characters in some imaginary movie before I can finish a book. I’m not SEEING A SCREENWRITER AS THE TICKET… he’s just someone who’s READING as a writer. AND he’s my decorator though he’ll shoot himself in the head — he said, if he keeps…doing it… and he’s my manager, this comment.
This decade was horrific.
I think what astounded me? I was visibly scared, like when my friend broke up with his boyfriend, as that was THE ONLY REASON he said, for real, that he wasn’t GOING THROUGH WITH HIS ASASSINATION PLOT WAS: his cushy life AKA his BOYFRIEND. DDO people speak FOR SHITS? About MURDER? DR. J — it smells of DR. J. And I’m WORRIED, talking to our mutual friend, and she’s LA LA LA making PIES on her forty birthday… he was — what? Going through a DARK TIME? YEAH, not the TIME to move in with this person…
To get CLOSER.
That’s the time to MOVE AWAY…
What the hell was I doing?
Okay?
Assasination plots.
“Yeah sure,” keep talking, right? Because if I gotta, hunny, I’m calling the FEDS. And the thing is? He was even in religious school, imagine? Spiritualist, reinvented. It was practically a profile. Luckily, yeah, the FEDS know: drugs, dark times, they don’t RESPOND to most threats. They get threats all the time.
But of course we live in the AGE of the DIGITAL CAMERA where you can erase…everything and anything you say…. isn’t that right, Dr. J? A woman with stunningly clear blue eyes like the sky, as if she came from there: JOY. “THIS IS YOURS,” she’s putting up a PALM, “THIS IS MINE. MINE MINE MINE.”
“YOURS.”
“MINE.”
“NO connection.”
WEEEE, then she’s changing her tune, “this is OURS. A mean man…” She senses a mean man… in the parages.
Nothing is real and everything is spiritual, you heard it here, from Dr. J’s daughter.
Who was SO unfortunate she went to MARYMOUNT HIGH SCHOOL in BEL AIR. I wasn’t RICH, sure, I just missed the cut off for financial aid, but JESUS, these GURUS in BEL AIR — but more so the ONE, as his brother would back me up, sorry, what the hell was this relationship?!
This guy was insane.
I’m looking across the fabric of my life — my family in particular going: WHAT IS HAPPENING? I had to rely on former President Barack Obama, spiritually! To get through this! I needed a celebrity, that I knew, but I was shooting for the real deal — the one Putin knows. Goldie Hawn.
Kidding.
But I did, I thought about what Barack Obama would say about — the entire situation. The guru, my mother, my father, what my psychological journey was. My fear about the beets, lol. I needed REASSURANCE. Someone who was going to go, yeah, “had a hard time at the mental hospital?” I mean, someone with my profile.
Someone who’s still struggling, though it gets better, because I simply don’t know what I went through in my body. And the REFORM necessary isn’t exactly revolutionary, it’s basic. It’s true, William James says, “a hallucination is a strictly sensational form of consciousness?” That’s interesting.
It’s like, repressed trauma — trauma defined as disconnection from self, whatever THAT means, versus psychosis a disconnection from REALITY, whatever that means, and Icould have connected to the UNREALITY of what actually happened? Who knows, can’t keep up.
So I propose we hold a meeting BETWEEN doctors. I feel shit in my guts right now, but the brain is connected to everything, so I don’t know, you see. Look, if someone says, “their mother gave them away to a stranger because she lied about him being a child molester, please…” don’t give that person drugs.
That is all. I’m posting on social media.