My hometown Huntington Beach was not too far from Hollywood, but it felt like a different world. It was nice to be back by the ocean where I belong. If smoking blunts on the beach is wrong I don’t want to be right.
I got a job working at a waterfront hot yoga studio. My intention was to let go of the past and save money for the future. I spent most of my time taking pictures of plants, swimming in the ocean, stretching, and smoking weed. Moving to Hawaii became my next big goal, dream, and plan.
It’s crazy how much pain we store in our bodies. Most of the people in my yoga classes had a sad dark past that led them to their practice. Everyone was busy working through something on their mats. Yoga postures help release all sorts of built up tension. People would cry, fart, throw up, and faint in class. It was better to leave the pain on our mats than in our bodies.
My constant self deprecating jokes landed great in Hollywood, but concerned my friends at the yoga studio. They didn’t appreciate my explicit vocabulary, but cursing was my favorite form of self expression.
One of the yoga students kept talking about her spiritual awakening and third eye opening. She hoped I’d get to experience that too. At the time I thought she sounded bat shit crazy.
When I first started working at the yoga studio it felt like all of my chakras were blocked. Of course I tried to stay present, but my mind kept wandering towards people and places I wanted to forget. There were lots of crazy toxic patterns in my life that I needed to address and work through.
Movement helped me move forward. Our minds and bodies are extremely powerful. It’s crazy to see how resilient and adaptable us humans can be.
Yoga has helped me manage my stress, anxiety, and depression issues. It improved my flexibility, strength, endurance, immunity, and mental health. Meditation has helped me manage my thoughts, goals, and ideas. It has helped me develop a growth mindset, new perspectives, patience, and self awareness. Those practices improved my durability and ability to overcome failures or obstacles. They also helped boost my imagination and creativity.
It’s important for us to listen to our bodies and intuitions. Sure yoga and dance are my favorite forms of exercise and release, but that doesn’t mean those are the best workouts for everyone. When in doubt, just take a walk.
All of our bodies, lifestyles, and goals are different. We can do whatever we want instead of what others tell us to do. Sometimes it feels really good to switch things up. Trying out different options is a great way to figure out what really works and what doesn’t work.
I had such a fat crush on one of the yoga teachers, I took his class everyday. Slayter reminded me to breathe and let shit go. For some reason I really wanted to have sex with him. I think all the stretching, deep breathing, and sweaty little outfits really got to me. I was eager to get my creative mojo back, so I asked him to model for me. I took pictures of him surfing and stretching. In return he got me “flowers” aka weed. I asked Slayter how he knew my favorite type of flower. He said he could tell just by looking at me.
Our friendship was ridiculously flirty. He would often touch my waist or hips while walking by me. For some reason I told him that I had a crush on him. Turns out he was dating someone else. Once again I felt like a total fucking moron for liking someone who was unavailable. It sucked that I fucked up my new favorite yoga class and weed connection so quickly. Guess it was probably for the best, because his kid was a three hundred pound varsity football player. I couldn’t imagine hanging out at his house with a gigantic child and his teammates. When I told my friends about Slayter they asked me if I planned on fucking the dad or his kid.
The studio promoted me to manager, which made me his new boss. There was a major power shift in our dynamic. He loved being a yoga guru and was used to instructing me, so he kept mansplaining how I should do my job. It was so fucking annoying.
One day all the other teachers bailed on their classes because mercury was in retrograde. Slayter was getting ready to teach while I sulked around in a bad mood. The yoga studio was calm unlike my stressful negative energy.
When he told me how to handle the situation I barked back “STOP TELLING ME HOW TO DO MY FUCKING JOB!” Everyone stopped and stared. It felt like a scene out of a Seth Rogan movie. Most of the students were shocked and horrified. Slayter saged the room while I went to my car to smoke, cry, and calm down. We never spoke again after that.
Marijuana is a magical plant. I’ve been on the verge of suicide, so I smoked, and it completely shifted my mood for the better. There’s so much stigma around weed, but I credit it for saving my life. Cannabis products make me a better, happier, calmer, nicer person. Judge all you want haters!
One night I went to In-N-Out in LA with a group of friends and a car came tearing down the street towards Andi. It did not stop. It should have killed him, but some sort of invisible force pulled him out of the way at the very last second. It was supernatural! It made me believe in the spiritual world. We wondered what saved his life. God? Angels? Ancestors? The Universe? I don’t know what the fuck it was. All I know is that there’s much more going on than what I can visually see. Was my third eye starting to open?
I was stoked when I got a photography job based in Hawaii! Unfortunately the pandemic hit around the same time, which totally fucked up my plans. There were strict travel bans, so the company revoked their offer, which forced me to put my dreams back on hold. Around that same time the yoga studio I worked at closed down which left me jobless again.
Living back home with my mom during the pandemic was gnarly. I had no sense of freedom, space, or privacy. I had to sneak out of the house like a fucking teenager, even though I was in my thirties.
COVID didn’t scare me, I was already numb. As a kid I would fantasize about getting sick or hurt. Maybe people would notice or care about me more if I was in the hospital. I had no lust for life.
I loved the pandemic at first. COVID forced us to stop, rest, and reset. There were no overwhelming crowds and everyone respected each other's personal space. People were nicer, probably because they didn’t have to work. Oh and the sweatpants! I loved being cozy at home in sweatpants. Of course getting sick and losing my loved ones fucking sucked, but back then we had no idea just how crazy things were going to get.
So many civilizations rose and fell over the years and it seemed like that time was coming again. Our political and societal systems were outdated.
One of my yoga friends offered to give me a reiki massage. It was my first time, so I didn’t know what to expect. I was just eager to release the stored up pain and tension from my body. Somehow he convinced me to undress and relax. My naked body went limp when he rubbed me down with hot oils. I didn’t expect him to lick or enter me. I wanted him to stop, but it felt like I was under a hypnotic spell. Eventually I summoned enough strength to end things just before he could finish. I’m not sure why I didn’t stop him sooner. The sexual oils and traumas gave me a painful infection that left me feeling out of balance and control. Not all happy endings are happy endings. Did I get fucking reiki raped!?!
Maybe it was empty consent? I didn’t want to be touched like that, but I also didn’t immediately stop him. I was in shock, drugged, or some sort of trance just going through the motions while feeling dead inside. I was frozen.
I spent weeks obsessing over what had happened. I paced back and forth while chain smoking tons of joints and cigarettes. I couldn’t stop replaying every traumatic sexual event in my mind. I knew that I would get blamed for dressing like a slut and posting nude pics on Only Fans. People would accuse me of “asking for it.” If someone dresses or dances like a stripper that doesn’t mean they’re a whore. Dressing sexy is not asking for sex.
Even though I felt violated I blamed myself for some reason. I wanted to protect the person who assaulted me. I should’ve stood up for myself and said something! I should’ve stopped him sooner! I guess that fucking reiki didn’t unblock my throat chakra.
I couldn’t even process what happened. There’s no way I could’ve talked to anybody, especially the police about it. They would’ve blamed me. I didn’t want to have to see his face anywhere ever again. Not even court.
That man was not a stranger. We had mutual friends and I didn’t want any of them to know about it. He had a healing yogi reputation and I was known for being a drunken gossipy party whore. Would anyone even believe me?
Male validation doesn’t mean that much. Most men would fuck a hole in a wall. I’ve heard that funeral homes avoid hiring men, because they’ll fuck the dead corpses. They creep on everyone including children, animals, and dead bodies.
Masturbation and celibacy were better options than most of my past sexual experiences. I could give myself better orgasms with no pregnancy risks or regrets. Societal sexpectations made me feel the need to engage in activities that disturbed my body and spirit. I wondered if I was naturally a lesbian or just traumatized by men.
It’s important to create boundaries and stand up for yourself. If you are nice all the time people will take advantage of you. Women have to be mean just to avoid getting raped or murdered. Being a bitch is a form of self defense.
My doctor told me that I was physically the healthiest person she had ever seen… mentally, not so much. Probably because I came into her office with a long list of potential self diagnosed issues.
I assumed that I was a manic, bipolar, autistic bitch with ptsd, borderline personality disorder, adhd, schizophrenia, eating disorders, and substance abuse issues. My doctor saw me as a depressed alcoholic hypochondriac.
She gave me numbers for psychiatrists and rehab facilities. I ripped up her recommendations, threw them in the trash, and picked up an ounce of weed instead. Bitch you think I’m depressed? I’ll show you fucking depressed!
It was the perfect excuse for an emo goth rebrand. I decided to only wear black or denim cruelty free outfits.
Simplifying my vegan lifestyle gave me better health while helping animals and the environment. I became more minimalistic with my diet, thoughts, purchases, and possessions. That gave me more freedom, time, money, and peace. Minimalism helped me cut out lots of bad habits and people from my life.
Anxiety is a natural impulse that warns us when something is wrong. My life was a fucking mess. It made sense for me to be anxious and depressed.
In Hollywood I wore lots of bright sparkly loud patterns, probably as an attempt to be seen. Most of my belongings were gifts or hand me downs from other people. There was no need to carry around literal baggage from people who were no longer in my life. I didn’t need visual reminders of the past all over my home and body. I got rid of everything. My old belongings no longer fit my lifestyle, so it felt refreshing to give them all away. People and animals in need would appreciate my old stuff more than I would.
Who doesn’t love a manic makeover?
Of course some scammers fucking robbed me around that same time. They told me that dad died and left inheritance for me. Since I never knew my biological father and was desperate for money I fell for their fucking scam. I fell for so many fake jobs and fake apartments during the pandemic. How the fuck was I still so gullible and trusting after so many toxic years in LA?
Anxiety can show up in so many different forms. I kept losing my temper, binge eating, deep cleaning, nervously laughing, burping, hyperventilating, throwing up, overdosing, fidgeting, interrupting people, yelling, obsessively organizing, deleting everything, bailing on plans, throwing things away, and repeating the same words.
Getting raped and scammed led me into a full on breakdown. I couldn’t seem to get out of bed, work, or maintain any relationships. Smoking weed and sleeping were the only things I could bother doing. My health was BAD.
Dying sounded better than doing most things. I just needed to rest and get better. Once again I reached burnout and assumed I was neurodivergent. Was I mentally ill or fucking traumatized?
Most of my actions were pretty impulsive. I committed social suicide several times by deleting everyone on my phone and social media accounts. People probably assumed I hated them, but I just hated myself. Hopefully nobody took my mental health issues personally.
My symptoms were a total wake up call. Time to evaluate. What did I do to cause those problems? What could I do differently to create better results?
I asked my doctor if she could test my shit. My blunt requests shocked her. She couldn’t believe that I was back in her office self diagnosing again. I was struggling with severe anxiety, depression, nausea, vomiting, mood swings, sleeping, staying awake, and suicidal thoughts. My body told me it was time to change my life.
Her eyes rolled back into her skull whenever she heard my medical theories. I thought that I had a crazy cat lady parasite that causes schizophrenia and cat obsessions. My doctor obviously thought that I was completely unhinged, but she tried her best to maintain her polite Canadian manners.
Even though I had been through a lot I knew there had to be even more to the story. Something was causing all my symptoms. I didn’t really want to die. I wanted to start living!
When the lab results came back she told me that I had a parasite. I was embarrassed and disgusted when I found out, but at least it explained the root of all my health problems. Of course I wanted to have an I told you so moment for outsmarting the doctor, but I managed to act somewhat mature. I killed the parasites with antibiotics, papaya seeds, and pomegranate seeds. It's better to fix problems instead of just covering them up.
Parasites and infections feed off their host without providing anything in return. My health problems mirrored my life problems.
I was mentally and physically ill. Being locked up at home during the plague didn’t help. Wallowing in my sadness didn’t make anything better. My manic crisis was a desperate cry for health and growth. Maybe I needed to get sick in order to get better.
Whatever we think about most is what we become. When I obsessively researched mental health issues I developed worse mental health issues.
It was time for me to shake things up and try something new. Life was way too stressful, stale, and stagnant. I needed to work on fixing my body, mind, and soul.
I felt the need to reach out to my estranged biological father. It’s natural for people to want to know where they came from. Some people raved about him while others shit on his name. He got intense reactions out of people, which was a quality I recognized within myself.
I heard so many mixed reviews about him over the years. I was ready to make my own opinions. There were too many unanswered questions. Was he dead or alive? Were we similar or different? Was he good or evil? Either way he helped create me!
Are people really good or bad? Maybe everyone’s a mix of both. Most people have reasons to justify their actions, even if they don't really make sense to other people.
Talking to my stranger dad on the phone was kinda like speaking to a clone of myself. We had a similar cadence and sense of humor. He showered me with compliments. I could totally see why most people found him charming.
My dad told me that I could swim before I could walk. He acknowledged that I’m an Aquarius who has always been drawn to water. It sounded like he had a healthy balance of fun and wellness in his life. He raved about all of my tv appearances and modeling work. Part of me wondered if he was just blowing smoke up my ass. I wanted to hate him, because he completely abandoned me, but part of me loved him!
Even though it was just a quick little chat it helped me see things from a new perspective. I realized there are many sides to every story. Everyone had conflicting perspectives, so I’d never know the truth. My parents divorce was too long ago for me to fully remember, which is probably for the best.
Searching for answers to explain the past was pointless. What happened happened. It was time to make peace with whatever the fuck and move on.
Starting over sounded sexy. My natural intuition told me to move away and swan dive into nature and creativity.
If you don’t like something, you should change it. If you don’t have the resources to do so, you can make it a goal for the future.