I spent the night tossing and turning, to use some outdated phrase — I could hardly sleep over this utter crap I have received. Forget “it” being hard, in the beginning, on some people. When I started, after years of agony, trying to vocalize that I didn’t know if it was a lie anymore, I got royally shut down. And I’m supposed to play my friend’s GAME?
I hope to God that I’m correct on this one, that I am only human, and I cannot help that I truly, physically, wrestled with this, and I still do. I expected more from that friend of mine in particular.
Here’s the thing — I get the attachments to mental health, it’s fucking crazy in my opinion, that these people believe that THEY KNOW what I went through when they were not there, for one. This “I know” everything attitude about mental health, when I’m dealing with the story I’m diffusing on my blog, is crazy to me.
Are you not reading the words?
I mean, truly speaking! I feel as though, if I had come from some cookie cutter scenario and started doubting my whole life that I would have been treated with more respect. What I said was serious. I needed a HAND. Not silence, not airy-fairy responses. I’m sorry.
So, you know, I don’t know what to say, because I keep typing on my end, looking at these Beverly Hills gurus like you destroyed my life. You had no idea what you were doing. You, too, had no real concept as to what the story was about. People do not respond well to a child abuse, even conceptually, like I couldn’t have come from a more suspicious story. You’d think? Wouldn’t you?
I’ve experienced a kind of cruelty that was not merited in my case. I get, once again, that people get superior about mental health events — which in my case, call me a warrior — it ain’t happening. I’ll fight. I can’t even believe I even had to POP a field of bubbles to get here — and the thing is, you should treat someone who comes from a story like mine, if you truly love them as a friend, seriously.
I got through whatever this stupid wrestle was, was late to work, but it’s fine, luckily, and just thought—you know what? Fuck you. I’m listening to “Fuck You,” literally, by CeeLo Green. I am. I hope I am right that this story will make an impact, like it will bring me attention, and that— with wide scared eyes — I will be welcomed tenderly, (I’m laughing), and we can all be amazed that my friends totally erased my entire story.
That THEY stopped talking to ME, too. They aren’t apologizing. Like, listen to this. My other friend she shut me down really hard. She doesn’t get it, either. Finally, I said, this is hurting me physically, please, I cannot talk to someone who doesn’t believe me… so bye, I need to hear myself think.
And she wrote me a birthday message “I know we aren’t talking right now and I want to honor your wish…” uh huh… she missed the point. My friends continue to. With some, I’m playing the “dee dee dee” game of “everything’s fine” when I wouldn’t say that, as I cannot even get involved anymore.
Look, my friend Liz, with whom I spent my 40th birthday? She actually comments on my social media posts, meaning, she looks at what I post, and she doesn’t give a shit — literally one — about what it is that I post.
She knows I’m exploring, that I’m dealing with “real shit,” as we call it, and she would never put CONCERN on me based on some girl trying to be funny online or explore what her story is.
And this friend, that I do not speak to anymore, another one! She even, sharply, it felt, brought up me sharing my story on social media which apparently gave her the RIGHT to sort of bring up my past… to a total stranger at the Carlyle Hotel.
“What was spectacular about your upbringing?” She ended up asking me.
You know, I think for a long time, that story existed in an unreal universe, and I was using the word spectacular in referencing Society of Spectacle. But when it became real, because I don’t even get what THEY THINK these years are going to look like to the outside world…and what, are they going to insist that they know the story that didn’t even happen to them?
I’ve been shocked, I really have. That story only brought me complications (A Hollywood wannabee guru) and pain. Even this guru’s brother shut me down. That’s all I experienced, and yes, it caused me personal damages.
WHY people act like they know when they don’t, I do not know.
A goddamn nightmare.
If I were crying and screaming in a video — outside of a rehearsal room — on social media — sure, I guess I might get the concern. Someone simply trying to figure out social media, why did I keep getting knocked down by my so-called friends? It was deplorable from beginning to end.
Forget the initial confusion around my state.
I’m talking about everything that happened after that.
Please note: a mental health event like mine is a real, physical ordeal. And like, did my panic attacks not communicate that? With this so-called friend of mine with fantasy plots to kill politicians having stars in his eyes — before I could complete a book — of staring in a movie?
“As your manager,” he said, with a belitting hand. I didn’t do anything that required a manager. I was not an actor. Then, I get out of the hospital—unreal— and says, slyly, “write the movie about what happened…”
Not the time.
Let Ed Norton sit in this living room, in my dreams, and tell you that.
“Who gives a shit about a movie?”
Then, I go over to my book blog, and I continue forward in utter amazement.
I should get an award. Some fake award. Let it be a PDF, even, that I can bring up on my IPhone.
I just wanted this to end. I don’t know what to say structurally, or psychologically, because my whole world concept changed, and these connections I had, a way of relating, I can’t explain it, terminated. There was a real distinct line in the sand between me and them. I don’t know, less than critiquing them, if that means I’m supposed to segway into a line of work that might serve someone who’s going through an epic ordeal.
One step at a time. But to her, this most recent friend of mine, it’s a strong goodbye from me, and I won’t miss her. I cannot help that I am dealing with what I am dealing with, and being ignored around a subject that I would think, would think would be received.
“The lie that he was a child abuser.” The very idea is already inside the story. That has never changed. NOW, because I woke up to what happened, in fact, I don’t know. And it’s driven me nuts across the spectrum that no one has heard me. I cannot help that I went through a whole event that made me physically question whether or not it was true in some capacity.
So, there we go. I woke up feeling just fine. I might have turned over that, like, are you serious? But I woke up… feeling like I must get this story done. I don’t know for the rest of my life. I don’t know what I can do on social media to get my story out there, or just me… still not knowing what to do with this GURU’s suggestion to diffuse my story on social media to begin with…
I hate the gurus. I hate these Beverly Hills gurus. The screenwriter was way off. His psychic abilities, his superior senses, need to be put in check. But literally, everyone acted that way with me. Practically everyone. And like, it made me think, look man, I might not have been a good friend to anyone, at all. You know? I just didn’t understand it.
I’ve put up boundaries where I’ve needed to.
Xena Warrior Princess. Tom Cruise, as a joke, will play Ares… and we will battle with flying boulders… having also had a relationship. Just to that soundtrack, the drums. “I do not know!” Friends throw manure in my face. Others powder me up with lipstick. “Oooo.”
Anyway, I’m off to continue working out the story step by step. My undercover investigation into this subject… and once again, Dr. J? Is it DISNEY? Is it a joke? As she was a DISNEY character. Is this rated PG? And the more I read, the more I think, “yeah sort of.”
Why are people acting like idiots? Because I went through a mental health event? Coming from that story right there? Like they will hold onto their so-called knowledge to the point of my pain, my detriment? They should be ashamed of themselves, not me.
That was a goddamn disaster, and NO, I do not know if I was abused…somewhere. Maybe I should put “I’m Xena Warrior Princess” on my email to these agents. “If you ever want to do a remake of Xena Warrior Princess,” we could do that. I could access that kind of rage, the desire to KILL, etc.
It just, I got totally ruined because people thought they KNEW what was going on… this guru, this Hollywood screenwriter, looks so bad, it’s ridiculous. This guy doing tricks with his dick, excuse me, over some pretty girl he met in a cafe. Do the world a favor, man, stay out. Couldn’t believe that guy. And so, I feel totally fine, now. I don’t give a shit about her.
Whoa, I do hope I will be, at least, understood. And, I do not know why, as I launched lampoons, smoke signals, and hooks across the psycho-spiritual plane (as I became psychic, ridiculous) reaching for “the celebrities” for assistance. I can, according to the gurus, establish contact on the psycho spiritual plane even with “the idea of.” Help!
I was laughing at Dave Chappelle, as his comedy helped me through this, specifically, yes. He made fun of people’s obsessions with celebrities, like “help me Jah Rule.” In my case, I had no choice. “Help! Please!” This is what is happening to me currently. I had to joke to break up the sheer loss I went through, the total mental confusion, like, why are they acting like this?
I had one friend slip in at the end with a simple, thoughtful birthday message that stated she hoped I was with people who truly appreciate me, and the magic I bring into the world. Simple. I think Amal Clooney… would shine in this moment. To me? I wonder what she would say to all this… coming down the runway (in my dreams) dressed fabulously, like, what would she say…? I think she would just hold my hand, like, “what a crazy story.”
I can’t piece together these shards I have, like these pieces of my father, as I don’t have memories of any abuse, and I can’t comment on what I saw during this experience. There’s no support on that end, as to whether or not I saw something real or imagined. However, being up against the bedroom door, at four, with my mother dying in the single bed that was supposed to be mine, that I had to fight for, and my father slipping into the master bed…
Don’t know what to say there. No one was talking to me. No one was saying “let’s go to sleep.” Right? Sure, it might have not happened, but I have a couple of these strange moments… that I have no idea what to do with, considering the rest of the story. I don’t know what to say about these types of couples… or how abuse… within the family… even begins.
I can’t really stomach it.
I just think I should have been treated a little differently here. And even if… I do not know… I didn’t come from one of these horrific stories… I wouldn’t have treated someone like that! I don’t even know what to say.
Like, this one friend, I’m no longer friends with — imagine? Jay Shetty, imagine? I got out of the hospital, and this guru tells me, “this is the time to get on social media and diffuse your story,” as if I went through nothing. And I start to, because he told me to, and I was still under his spell, so to speak, when I never ASKED for any of it. Then, I get wind from this friend, that my friends talked about how weird my social media use was? In a world that uses it? Like I needed that.
I really really really do not understand why MY use of social media is a problem for my old friends. I really do not understand. Wouldn’t the world go, “let’s go to her profile…?” What’s that crazy about it? Except my rehearsal footage, of me punching through the goddamn screen at the GURU, sure. I think that’s understandable. If I even sent a RIPPLE, GOOD, in my opinion. Fuck that guy.
“Your birth was divine because you were born to parents who were not there.” On behalf of foster care, a system I was not inside, “fuck you.” CeeLo Green clapping along on The Voice, when someone did a applaudable version of his song. “Fuck you.” I think, he’s going to get why I’m directing that song across this situation. I thought it was funny, actually, my video…
Like I’m coming for YOU, guru.
I have backed off, because I’m scared, and I’ll keep figuring out how to use social media, though I don’t feel it’s the easiest platform for me to understand. I don’t know if it was necessary, either. This guru, he even thought that I should send an Instagram account to a literary agent, which I found puzzling. Like, some account with no followers… about abuse? Or a complicated family story? Luckily, I didn’t do that. Maybe to one person? I felt utterly weird about it. Aren’t they interested in…writing? Or, at least, followers? Like, I have x amount of followers about Christmas in Naples, what about a cookbook?
I think that would have made me look quite bad. It even reminds me of my mother, a little bit, as if she were using abuse as a means of becoming famous? You see, when it comes to this guru, he looks so bad. He never said, YOU as a person, because he has no guts, are amazing, touching, something, I don’t know. “Your strength and positive attitude…” no, he shat on me.
And the thing is, I don’t know WHY he even suggested that. Again, it was as if, regardless if he knew it, he wanted to destroy me…he didn’t see my story as real, at all. He really didn’t get it, at all. And I had just gotten out of the hospital… like it’s not the time…? And telling a story around my cousins didn’t turn out that well. Not yet anyway, and I practically want to tell them — see you next life. I’m not there yet. And will I ever be there? I don’t know. There are plenty of books that get published.
I didn’t know what to do with that. I felt sensationalized. I’ve had to work out a fair amount of confusion based on that relationship. I don’t know why I had to go through so much stupid crap, it was just crap, to bring in my New Jersey roots. So, goodbye, I’m better off without you. Moving on.
But at least I got rid of these strange road blocks of haters that I did not need. Social media haters. I just don’t have time. Anyway, I’m going to work on this stupid story now.