February 17th, 2026: Hilo, HI
There existed a non-profit, that was the structural form for growing the dream, and the vision. In 2019, I was told that the artists chose to move forward without me, the very expression that grew from the dedicated work since graduation in 1996 from Cal Arts. I can clearly see now, that not all visions synch, and that it was an exploitive and extractive system with lies told about who was a major contributor to its organization, and others along the way, supporting this narrative.
It is perhaps easier to believe a lie rather than own that one is a part of the extractive system.
The final project was in New York, and my intention was to go.
At the time I was a student thinking of creating a new form of income making taking 4 graphic design classes. I was also in grief counseling, which was what I could afford at that time, free, with someone who was not trauma informed. She did however, for the first time in my decades long healing journey, which was my own fashioning, see the patterns.
She advised, educate yourself, my mother is a narcissist, and this is what I see.
I did educate myself, but I didn't think it was a big deal, I thought my PTSD symptoms were all due to the layers of ancestral and childhood trauma, but something deep inside continued to move forward. I had already put my name on a low income housing list long before. I checked back in, and put my name on the list, they had re-organized it, and my name, because I didn't catch an email that was sent, and I put myself back on the list.
I also came to the realization, that the Western arts community, was not a functional support system. They ran away like cockroaches when encountering the light and hid, with the exception of two individuals. My body knew it needed a support system. I understood that the "landlord", his family, that I needed to stop being in contact with them. I began to explore other family connections that were biological and determined, who could be of support, and who could not in a reciprocal way. I leaned into the shamanic workshops, and circles, and consistent support networks came into place.
I discovered I was a good candidate for disability given my history, and a steady income stream, a small amount, but something, began to come in.
The nest egg, money from my work as an Ombudsman, and work as a law firm receptionist began to grow.
I felt complete, and whole, and then, I grew aware.
The seed by the grief counselor grew, and I began to track pattterns in the relationship and what it actually DID to my body somatically and came to the shocking relationship that this other human, his patterns, they were the cause of my body destabilizing, and I made my exit plans.
In the community he is likely still seen as the glowing golden child, a position he openly acknowledges, and indicated he preferred favored one.
Everything was in his name, and there was a carrot on a stick, he never intended to show support. He was 100% okay with this body stepping into a state of no home, and presenting himself as the poor abandoned one, or whatever he tells is family and friends.
I sent a letter written by my doctor, who reversed the event in 2019, saying he now understands I was not the aggressor. The landlord called it "character assasination". He called this doctor saying I was acting strange, as if he was concerned I might have another nervous system collapse, and when this didn't work, he called his own doctor, the CEO of the large medical system, and he called on behalf of his patient to talk about my use of AI and that I was acting strange.
I heeded the counsel of friends in one particular support circle, and they advised, get out now, things are escalating, and I did.
It was the single most terrifying moment in my life.
My body went into what a body does after 33 years of a trauma bond.
Harrowing moments.
Healing requires looking at the details, old photos, old records, and seeing things clearly for what they were.
This landlord did NOTHING relative to the work of myself, and my co-creator, Sarah in getting the foundation up and running.
His big gaslit statement to the world and to me, repeatedly, was that he had the idea.
Well, he was 43 when I went to work, and he had already used and abused two dancers before me, and hadn't done a stitch of work.
I was exploited and extracted by him, and the foundation, ultimately, became a thing that exploited and extracted me.
So, good riddance.
The dance company never did another project, the foundation folded, and my history about its efforts, were erased in this dissolution.
This is the way of these societal narcissistic systems, extract, deplete, discard.
Spitting over this shoulder and that and shaking my whole body down. It is time for Pele to come and kala all that needs to be kala.
aho!