Dear God,
I woke up sad today—for no clear reason at all. The first thing I did was call my dad. When he asked why I was sad, I told him about my anxiety—how I’m often scared in my own apartment because of the fear of seeing a mouse. I also told him how much I wish I had more time to spend with him and Mom.
Whenever I share my sadness with my dad, he reminds me how blessed I am: “You have a place to live, you have great health, you have a beautiful personality.” I love when he does that. I used to get angry—thinking, Yes, but I live in a cramped one-bedroom, or I drive an old Chevy with a dent. But I see things differently now. I truly am blessed.
Tomorrow Dad and my nephew are going to the movies. Before that, I have to wake up at 7 a.m. and be out the door by 7:45 to go to court, and then to another court for a small claims matter.
I’m still waiting to hear back about the flight attendant job. I really want it. Maybe I’ll hear something around January 2nd or 5th. Nothing was promised, but I’m hopeful.
My dad even gave me his urine for my drug test and drove me to the testing site. I love that man so much. If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is. I honestly doubt my mom would do that—she’d probably worry about risking jail or losing her blessings.
I called my sister this morning, and she seemed happy to speak with me. I also called my brother, and he seemed glad to hear from me as well. My perspective on them has changed, though I still wonder: Why now? Why wait until it feels absolutely hopeless for my dreams—like becoming a pop star at 41—to suddenly be kind to me? They’ve never really been kind before. Even now, they never call me; I’m always the one reaching out. They’re both very successful—so why have they never tried to help me in any way?
I want to be like a character from the Bible—Joseph.
In the Book of Genesis, Joseph was hated by his brothers and sold into slavery. God later raised him up to become ruler of Egypt, second only to Pharaoh. When his brothers came to him during a famine, Joseph forgave them and saved their lives.
Even though my siblings have never done anything for me, I plan to still care for them. Not with money or trips—but if I ever pay for a family vacation, I’ll include them. When I take my family out to eat, I’ll always cover the bill. Mostly, though, it will be me, Mom, Dad, and my nephew.
My headache finally went away at 6:45 p.m. It started early this morning after I accidentally took trazodone instead of vitamin C. I took pain relievers and drank Yogi tea for stress—Mom suggested it. She always seems to know what’s best. She knows me so well.
She once told me that my flaw is wanting to be loved by people.
“We live in a cruel world,” she said. “People are jealous. Don’t care what people think of you—only care about what God thinks of you.”
She’s right.
She also knows how deeply I want my dreams to come true. She sometimes thinks she played a role in that. I remember her showing me magazines and asking if I wanted to be an actress because I was always singing, acting, or performing. The truth is, I knew what I wanted to be since I was two years old.
I don’t even know how a microphone ended up in my hands at church when I was two, but when it happened, I had no fear. That was the reason I loved going to church—I couldn’t wait to sing at the end of service. My mom helped nurture that dream by putting me in modeling, acting, and plays. I even remember creating my own choreography for The Jungle Book. I’ll never deny that she helped me see myself as a real performer.
The problem was that when I turned 18, all financial help stopped. I didn’t receive a single penny while attending college in LA—not from my parents, not from my siblings who were living comfortably. I was desperate. I asked my sister if I should do an adult film for money, and she encouraged me. I’ll never forget what she said: “You’ve got the body for it.”
I went to a set just to observe. Instead, I was drugged and taken advantage of. I don’t remember much—only fragments of voices telling me to keep my eyes open and keep filming. That company violated me in the worst way.
You were there, God. You protected me from disease, and You protected my mind from remembering the trauma. But afterward, I had very little value for myself and chose to do three more adult videos just to survive and afford an apartment.
Changing the subject—today I auditioned for a film. I portrayed a mother to a 12-year-old boy whose sibling is missing. I was meant to be in complete sadness. I hadn’t brushed or blow-dried my hair in days, and it was perfect for the role—I truly looked depressed. In one scene, my other son tries to serve me breakfast, but I ignore him and cry out, “Where is Felipe? I want him here!”
My acting coach, Emily, helped me. I pay her $300 for five hours. She’s incredibly talented, and one day I will help her too. I want her beside me at the Oscars. I intend on being invited—and winning—many times. When I give my acceptance speeches, I’ll simply say, “Thank you, and God bless.”
I know it sounds crazy. How could I possibly win a Grammy or an Oscar with no money, no connections, barely getting by, and living with a mouse? If it weren’t for Shervy’s help, I’d struggle to eat. One day, I’ll spoil him for that.
Lately, he tells me stories about women hitting on him. Today he told me how Lily Singh asked him questions and stood very close, touching his arm. I asked how she smelled. He said he didn’t notice and walked away. Then he asked why so many women flirt with him—an odd question to ask your girlfriend. I suggested asking a trusted coworker.
I’m supposed to see Shervy in LA soon and stay with him for a week. He doesn’t know it yet, but I rented a car. I plan to explore all of LA—my old college, Malibu, movies, Beverly Hills restaurants. The world will be my oyster.
I’m grateful my headache is gone. I feel so much better. I can’t believe I have to be in court at 8 a.m. tomorrow. So much to do—laundry, errands, and preparing my wardrobe in case I get the flight attendant job. Five weeks of training in Miami. I already know my look: timeless, chic, business casual.
My dad keeps telling me my life is going to change dramatically for the better. I believe him.
Father, You know everything I’ve been through. I desperately want a better life. I want so badly to book this audition, but most of all, I want a close relationship with You. I know You can change my life in an instant. I’m ready for change.
I pray for my father’s health. He’s decided not to remove the tumor, and I trust that decision. He loves You so much. Please give him the healing he needs.
Protect my words here. I bare my soul. Let no one use them against me. Bring people into my life who encourage and uplift me. Forgive my sins, known and unknown. Protect me from all evil. Bless anyone reading this—heal their bodies, comfort their minds, give them peace that surpasses all understanding, and restore their hope and faith in You.
I love You.
Amen.
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