#RealDeal: Sometimes sh!t is just sh!t (and you're either framing it, stepping in it, or realizing it's you)

This post was originally published in 2019, three years before I was diagnosed with synesthesia and found out I’m on the spectrum.

This has been without a doubt, one of the most emotional years of my life. I've experienced the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, and I haven't been writing about it. Good or bad, my eyes couldn't believe what they were seeing. 

I think I'm ready to talk about it now, and I present to you my best effort. 

Maestro ... 

My life for as very unconventional as it may seem to everyone else, is actually fairly predictable to me. People operate on a "predictability index" in my head, and as someone who naturally processes patterns and information at lightning speed - I can easily recognize when a duck is a duck. I'd never yell at a duck for not being a giraffe when what I'm presented with is a duck. I rarely if ever need to raise my voice at someone (if I even get into an argument) because that predictably index allows me to understand things their perspective, all while I can articulately explain my perspective. (Or as articulate as I can ... no one is perfect.) 

This year though, I've been consistently blindsided with situations and people both personally and professionally. 

It started at this exact time last year when my good friend's body was found. I happened to be there when she was discovered and even was the one to call 911. Well, technically speaking, a mover called 911 but I handed him my phone not knowing it hadn't been done - I was in hysterics and could barely breathe let alone speak.  

My body made sounds that day that I didn't know it could. There is a very specific pitch of a "gut wrenching cry." I know it from my own voice that day and the 30 plus people I personally called to tell them what happened. A year later, and I can't unhear it - it's a new form of deafening that plays on an unwanted repeat and shuffle over and over in my head. 

Had I not seen her body be wheeled out of the building, I wouldn't have believed it myself. I could have at that moment gone into her apartment and seen her lifeless body, but considering how affected I have been by the sounds, I am glad that I didn't. 

My friend was a celebrity and her death made international headlines. Going through your own pain is bad enough, having everyone under the sun also read it and reach out was unbearable. People made comments in the media that were not approved by the family. I was the only person they trusted with media training so I planted a news story that still ranks number one for her name (even now). 

I had to ask the family (and quite frankly the myriad of friends that came out of the woodwork who actually knew more) for complete and full disclosure. I needed to know what substances she was on, so if for example, it came back that she had pain killers in her system, I could protect her integrity by planting a line about an old back injury. If it came back as any illegal substances - that would be on her. 

I may "see" people, but I'm proud to say I don't judge them. 

The story ran. I guided the actual family media representative (who had no clue what he was doing) on the call, and I'm quoted as the "anonymous friend" who gathered up enough of the details to plant what I thought was needed. 

With the piece live, the media had all they needed from the family. Immediately, cockroaches came out of the woodwork who were talking to any friend or family member about "book deals, and movie rights." Everyone wanted their piece of her newly resurfaced fame and I was disgusted by it ... but not at all surprised by it.

I focused on the job that I knew needed to get done and not only wrote her obituary but also designed the memorial flyer. It was the final act of kindness I could show to a friend who needed it, but I chose to leave the monkeys to their own circus and quietly ignored the memorial (or any of the events after). Minus the surprise memorial because WHO THE FUCK SURPRISES SOMEONE WITH A MEMORIAL? (I'm really not kidding - this actually happened.)

Through the conversations I had with people after she died, I questioned how much of my good friend that I ever knew. The person that I knew laughed at all my stories about recreational drug use but never wanted any part of it. She barely drank - and now its suspected she died of some sort of overdose? 

Still needing my own closure, I called and kept in touch with the coroner on her case (who is a great fucking human - not at all expected). He spent over 30 minutes on the phone with me explaining all of the pressure he is feeling because she's classified as "high profile" and how confused he was over her case. I had explained to him that I was there that day and was a close friend. He trusted my voice enough to then tell me what he was seeing. 

When they do an autopsy (he explained), they first check your vitals. Does this person have a heart, two lungs, brain - etc? Then they go over the condition of each of the vitals - any clots, bursts - etc? She had everything she needed and was deemed to be in "good health."

Step three is testing for substances. What drugs were in her system? There were bottles found around her body, but nothing was registering as an "overdose." Part of my own grieving process was researching the drugs people had told me she was rumored to have taken. There was one in particular that is undetectable in an autopsy. Obviously, I'm not going to say what it is - but I mentioned this to the doctor and he thanked me profusely running more tests. 

I called back yet another handful of weeks later - and it was yet again inconclusive. Out of my own options, I realized I had to let it go.

I'm never going to know what happened to my friend, but that the search results about her death protected her integrity and as much as that messed with me that I was the one who planted it - I'm proud the story stuck and (hopefully) she can rest in peace. 

My friend was the first of three deaths who were all intimate in less than 30 days. I'm sure as shit not going into all of it, but then a few months later, a colleague of mine that I was working for also unexpectedly passed away. I found out the news of his passing and while still shocked but in good enough condition to drive, I walked out of the office and discovered that my car had been towed. 

The bright side of that death was that the colleague whose name I said before my own most mornings was not at all who he presented to be and was pretty much an epic douchebag. 

Remember that whole "predictability index with people thing?" Yeah, I'm questioning my own accuracy too. 

Thankfully as the year went on the body count decreased.

Then, right before Burning Man this past August, I received a text at 4:07pm from a close friend. She went to the doctor before the Burn to make sure she was healthy (as she was coming with us) and to her surprise her results were not good. 

<tangent> If you are lucky enough to not know what that means, it is not good. It is actually better to have two different forms of cancer independently (for example breast cancer and bone cancer) than have your cancer metastasize to the bone. </tangent> 

In shock I called the other person who's name she mentioned on the text (who is my favorite person on this planet and someone that I love with a part of my heart I didn't even know I had access to). 

"Hello?" they said bright and chipper. "You're on speakerphone." 

Without needing to look at my phone, I quickly realized that our mutual friend thought she had sent a group text but actually just sent a text to me. 

Being an accidental pro now at giving people horrible news, I said, "if you are driving I am going to need you to safely pull over." They could tell in my voice it was bad and considering they were also there when my good friend passed - they knew I meant business.  

The calling part never got easier. Even after the sheer volume of calls I had placed the day my friend's body was found - it hurt equally as bad (if not worse) telling someone I love so deeply that their friend has cancer that has metastasized to the bone.

I can't remember if they even made a single sound, but I asked where they were right now and that I was going to grab a car to meet them. 

No, they said still processing the words I said. "We're in front of a restaurant right now. I'm just going to park, go in and process what you just said." 

Sometime at the restaurant they called our friend (technically their friend long before mine) and an hour later we were in a lyft en route to meet her. (I have a hard stop rule in these situations that no one drives - it's not safe.) 

Not knowing what to say, I focused on the "H"s. 

"Hi, (or hello)," and then going into a hug (or some sort of person-holding-situation). 

<tangent> There are (at least) four different types of people in these situations. 

You have your delusional cheerleader types ... the "you're going to be just fine!" Ra-ra-shish-boom-ba! 

You have your religious/ spiritual types ... "[insert holy name here] has a plan for all of us, and this is your challenge. With prayer and faith YOU WILL GET THROUGH THIS!!!! 

You have your "this isn't about you it's actually about me" types who process by saying things like "when so and so in my life had this, they got through it!"

Rarely have these types personally experienced anything close to what the person is going through - they're more like "trauma adjacent" and want to make everything about themselves. 

Speaking of it all being about me, what's my type?

I'm the kind of person who in the moment looks at what needs to get done and shuts the fuck up about doing whatever is required. </tangent>

I can't control the cancer, or even the different personality types I was subjected to, but I can help with the dishes or check in with the kids asking them questions, or starting a game just so the adults could actually have the conversations they needed to have.

My only goal that evening was to make sure that my friend whom I love more than anything could have the conversation they needed and or wanted to have with our mutual friend. 

Moments later, the Matriarch (of a family I had never met) shouted that Shabbat dinner was about to start. Our mutual friend didn't want to move from the couch, so I quickly offered to bring them both dishes knowing that this would be their chance to speak privately. 

The table was set in the formal dining room (which should have been my first clue), and as I grabbed two of the plates the Matriarch stopped and asked "what I was doing?" 

The whole house (eight or so people strong) were now all seated. "Please take a seat." 

I glanced up and in my direct eyeline I saw them both whispering and hugging one another.

I didn't know in this moment that the "everything about me type" could also be the "religious and spiritual type." 

I had never seen this family before or heard of them. I'm only about a year or so into our friendship, but my friend? They are considered family. It seemed strange to me that if I had plans with my friend WHO JUST FOUND OUT SHE HAS TERMINAL CANCER - I might want to celebrate the dinner at home and then bring some left overs afterward? 

Who celebrates a god in front of someone who JUST FOUND OUT they might be meeting said god a little faster than the rest of us? How tacky is that?! 

And if you are going to do it - why not PICK A QUIETER DINING AREA!! She set the formal dining table! I'm from Connecticut. You don't fuck around with formal dining. She had SO MANY OPTIONS!! You have the breakfast nook, the kitchen, the patio, even the back patio ACTUALLY HAD ITS OWN FORMAL DINING AREA!! Why here?! THIS ISN'T ABOUT YOU!!! 

Again, people process things in their own way, so instead of judging (which I was doing pretty sternly with my eyes in that moment) .... 

... I then focused back on my personality type and shut the fuck up choosing to get my head back in the game. 

Who is going to say the blessing? the Matriarch asked. 

The children at the table collectively slid down their chairs out of embarrassment. 

My friend's son, and his brother's girlfriend were in shock and not capable of blessing themselves let alone a prayer in a language they may or may not have known. 

My eyes darted back over to my two friends - who were still talking. Wanting to get them food, I did the opposite of shutting the fuck up, and I actually opened up my mouth. 

"I can say the prayer," I said with my hand raised.

I'm a shiksa (meaning a non Jewish girl) so I technically speaking don't know the full prayer, but I did work at a Jewish day care and day camp and before each meal we said the blessing for the kids. Possessing a memory of steel, I still remember it 17 years later. 

I start singing the blessing, "Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melekh ha'olam, asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav, v'tzivanu l'hadlik ner shel Shabbat."

I emphasized all the lower throat tones in the prayer to distract the fact that I didn't actually know what I was doing. The dinner was moving in some sort of a direction and that was all that mattered. 

The prayer I learned deviated at that point (for the smaller children to understand), but fortunately, because I had befriended the kids earlier, they finished it for me out of excitement to be "just like their new friend." 

With the prayer finally finished, we then began eating - I knew not to cross the Matriarch by leaving the formal dining table before everyone was done. Again, not that I had anything for or against this woman, I was just happy the people I actually did care about were in my direct eyeline and should they want food, I would happily, and also sadistically, leave the table to get it for them.  

My friend's son and his brother's girlfriend both thanked and hugged me in the kitchen after. The two of them I knew well enough to be accepted and their eyes told me how thankful they were in that moment. 

Focused on my own goal, I walked back into the living room with two plates. Our mutual friend had already passed out. I didn't ask if they had the conversation they "needed to," because who knows what that even means in that life moment. I just made sure my friend was fed, dishes were as clean as they were going to be, and that was all I could do. 

You can't exactly Irish good bye (my favorite thing to do) in a situation like this, so sometime later and after a very long winded good bye - we finally made it back outside where we called the car. 

Standing on the sidewalk, I feel not one but two of the little ones COMPLETELY blindside me from behind with big bear hugs.

I immediately started laughing and smiled not knowing in this moment I needed my own "little personal-holding-situation."

My friends and I went to Burning Man as planned. It was really hard not only missing our friend but knowing her fate was (at least for now) very different than ours. 

By day five of the Burn outside of the orgy dome (more on that later BUT ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED) ... 

Our mutual friend asked me why I was still so far in my head.

If an orgy where you got head can't bring you out of your head - nothing will!! 

"You not only seem so far in your head, you actually seem like sparkly and your energy is all over the place." 

I sat down in my 3D boob apron (this is an actual thing, I'll have pictures in a moment) and said, "I've never been more confused by a year. It's been event after event and trauma after trauma. It swings from incredible professional accomplishments - to painful depths of sadness. My life is ALWAYS eventful, but not like this. I can't stop feeling this sense of loss and grief, but I'm wondering who I'm even grieving for? The dead are already dead. The dying? Well aren't we all? Is all of this a distraction from my professional accomplishments? 

Before they could answer, a super hot Domme walked up asking if I was ready to get shocked with a cattle prod. We give you a free souvenir shot glass if you do. 

I then took a moment, and thought back to what my friend just said.

"You not only seem so far in your head, you actually seem like sparkly - like your energy is all over the place." 

<tangent> I'm sadistic, (meaning I take pleasure in seeing other people in pain) - I'm not a masochist (meaning deriving pleasure from the pain myself). And for clarification purposes, I'm technically a sadistic healer (meaning I only like to see healthy people in pain - never someone who actually is in pain being administered more pain). I like to help those in need, not hurt. </tangent> 

I'll do it, I said as I walked over to the Domme. "You had me at free souvenir shot glass," I said jokingly but also serious that I do collect souvenir cups from all of my adventures and use them as juice/ water glasses.

I wanted to get out of my head and into my body. If five days at Burning Man hadn't helped, maybe being cattle prodded would. 

My friend asked if they could take video. 

"Hell no," I said not knowing what my reaction would be (and knowing that the internet and icloud are forever). "But, you can take as many pictures as you want." They happen to have a speedy capture finger. 

Here were the results: 

This is Her explaining what is about to happen ... 

This is me mentally preparing ...  

This is Her mentally preparing ... 

This is me getting shocked ... 

This is me in my body for the first time in however long ... 

This is me thanking her ... 

This is her thanking me ... 

This is me going back into my head (but only for a moment) explaining the shock was like the most intense pinch I have ever felt. It sent a chill through my body, but in a good way. 

These were our shadows walking out of the camp as my friend said "you are the only person I have ever known who gets out of their head and into their body via being voluntarily electrocuted by a cattle prod." 

"I respected the Domme," I said. "I could be friends with her and my fake boobs look awesome right now!!" (A sentence I never thought I would say.)  

The rest of the Burn is a story for another day, but shortly after I got home, I found out that two more friends were given their own terminal sentences. 

Feeling myself slip back into a depression, I took action and did the one thing I haven't done in over a decade ... I actually went to therapy. 

My friend has a doctor on the west side who said doesn't do the, "how did that make you feel" style questioning. She's whip smart and super logical.

"She's your person."

Feeling like I had no other options, I set the appointment for Wednesday afternoon two weeks ago. I haven't had the best history with therapists. My grandfather was considered one of the top psychiatrists in the country - and used his talents against his own family. I spent more than half my childhood in therapy and had a nervous breakdown at age 22, only to be COMPLETELY misdiagnosed as being bi-polar and subsequently put on lithium, resperdol, seroquel, klonopin, xanax ... and I know I'm leaving some out, but you get the idea. 

I never needed to be on those drugs, and fortunately I had the balls to say no and fuck you.

<tangent> Working for LiveVideo back in 2007 and starting this website in 2009 saved my life. One, because of my love of tech but two, because it allowed me to express myself so freely and honestly. 

A few months back, I sat in the home of a Hollywood showrunner (a household name you all know), in my captain's hat, and shorteralls with my swimsuit under - I told him the origin story of Talk Nerdy To Me (he was interested in hearing the formerly owned Jerry Bruckheimer TV pitch over a family BBQ of all things). 

I was 30 or so minutes in when he said, "you have an original voice." 

I beamed with pride as he took a beat. 

"That must be really hard for you." 

My eyes immediately welled up with tears, I struggled but successfully held them back. 

"When you have an original voice you have to work twice as hard as everyone else because what you're doing is something most people haven't even thought of yet. You not only have to execute your vision but explain it as you go and that must be terribly lonely and isolating." 

He said it with tremendous respect, and his truth based on my reality was gutting. I hadn't ever had someone put my life experience so succinctly and directly in my face like that before.

I thanked him for his time, as I stood up with my laptop. He said, "I'm really looking forward to reading your script." </tangent> 

Moments into minute five of therapy, I unexpectedly began breaking down. Physically sobbing, I said, "this year has been so hard, I admitted, but also so amazing! It's like my brain can't focus on which perspective and lens to look out of. Health wise, I've even had shingles (the old people's disease) twice this year due to stress both good and bad."

Let's start with the good, she said.

I rang in the new year with the man who landed on the moon ... 

... who doesn't know that I know where a piece of his jewelry is. He gifted it to a good friend of his (a good enough friend to get a piece of jewelry THAT WENT TO THE MOON) and his good friend happens to be the grandfather of my good friend. I'm RIGHT NOW in the process of getting them both in the same room so my friend can give it back to him - Buzz Aldrin doesn't know this yet, but soon he will. 

I'm also pretty proud that when I see him again, I get to say the sentence, "yes we met at New Years, I was Cleopatra!" It wasn't a costume party, I just took the black and gold theme literally. 

In March, I heard a Presidential candidate speak in a room full of only about 20 people.

That night I also met a member of the royal family and we took a picture together. When she posted it on her Instagram, I got cut out of it. I saw it and laughed so hard to my parents saying, "how many people can say they've been cut out of a photo with a Presidential Candidate and a member of royalty?!" THAT IS SO COOL!!! 

This is the uncut original photo ... 

This is what she posted ... 

See that TINY TINY spec of black fur with the red arrow pointing to it??? ... 

Hey, growing out your bangs is a tough thing to do!! I can't say I blame her!! 

FYI, this is not a political endorsement of any kind. I assimilate with cultures quickly and took the pin as a souvenir. I'm saving that story for another day. :) 

In May, I cold called the most powerful producer in Hollywood (Jerry Bruckheimer who previously bought my life rights twice) asking if he would like to read my script.

He did, and he liked it. 

JBE's exact words were "script is good, comedy is hard ..." and then he gave me an action item to which I am currently executing. 

In September, I got to meet my fashion idol Betsey Johnson.

I actually started sobbing when I told her how much her fashion allowed me to be "more of myself" and if it weren't for her and Punky Brewster, I don't know where I'd be. 

This is me SOBBING while taking a selfie (she asked if I wanted one - I could barely answer with the word yes without sobbing harder)... 

I don't do the "pretty girl cry" I ugly girl cry ... 

That same day, I got to squash the beef with the pop star I micdropped in the elevator of the SoHo house. She obviously didn't remember me nor did I remind her of that night. I still won't say who she is, but I finally executed my goal of walking up to her and saying, "I'm a really big fan of your writing and your music. Thank you for your work!" 

All of that is a story for another day ... moving on ... 

Also in September, I won two awards at the Female Founder In Tech event held in Vegas ... 

I came in second place overall (with a company cash prize) and won the People's Choice Award. I later presented on the main stage and stepped away from the podium just so the audience could see my sparkly shoes. 

And this October, I walked into a really shitty dive bar in downtown LA and accidentally crashed a Harry Potter pub crawl.

The bartender asked, "are you always this well dressed? Or are you part of the group." 

Without skipping a beat, I said "I am always this well dressed. I did this for myself - but clearly this is where I'm meant to be." 

I tried lining up the graffiti on the mirror to give me whiskers. It kinda worked. 

Then, on day ONE of working a new gig, I was asked to help two people who won the highest honor a human being can receive. I can't tell you what it is, and I'll take to the grave the work that I did, but it was the COOLEST thing I have EVER done professionally. 

I had no idea anything could be cooler than saying "Jerry Bruckheimer bought my life rights (twice)" until I did this. 

The hour was quickly up, and while it felt great to get all of that off my chest, I was still left with frustration over my feelings. Obviously one session wasn't going to cut it, but fortunately, I had plans with the Modern Day Shaman later that evening so I asked his advice as well. 

We sat down at a cleaner dive bar than the one downtown, and I told him I had just come back from therapy. 

"How was it?" he asked knowing my history with doctors. 

"I don't know how to feel," I admitted in defeat. "This year has been the highest of highs and at the same time the lowest of lows. I'm actually trying to brainwash myself by listening to words of affirmation playlist at night. I don't know what else to do!! I feel SO sad over everything that has happened this year ... but then, I look at ALL THE GOOD THAT HAPPENED with guilt and I don't know why!! 

"It's a one word answer," he said. 

"You know the word." 

He paused as I placed however many guesses. 

"It's what is written on your wrist." 

Oh, I said turning my hand over (as if I could have forgotten what was written there). 

"What you're feeling is all this love for your friends and family. Love isn't perfect, love comes in all forms and asks different things for us at different times. Whether you realize it or not, you're in love, and to love sometimes means to lose." 

"It just seems so unfair, and I know that logically I can't control any of this - but it doesn't mean it hurts any less."

"Yes, but you're feeling what you're feeling and going through it. Remember the stone cold person who came into my office almost a decade ago with emotional unavailability?"

"I know I'm not that same person anymore."

"I know you're not either because I couldn't be friends with that person, but now you're one of my favorite people ever."

I laughed as I cried receiving yet another release that I didn't know I needed.

This time, the release felt really good.

Not like being electrocuted with a cattle prod kinda good - but the kinda good that's natural and doesn't require grounding a current before applying.  

Thanks for letting me get this off my chest. I promise to stop ugly girl crying now - kinda. 

SO proud to type ... 

#nerdsunite

Oh and PS. these are my souvenirs ...