After I wrote the last entry, I actually looked back at my past entries and was not all that surprised to discover that I had written almost an identical entry last year. I wrote this long entry about how I was going back to LA and I was doing it for my health and blah blah blah. Then the next couple of entries were about the hurdles that were thrown my way by finances and my mother (hers being the most difficult to overcome, obviously since I didn’t overcome them).
What can we learn from this whole situation? Well, simply this: don’t involve my mother with anything. She takes an obstructionist point-of-view. In the entry from a year ago, I wrote about her sabotage during my time in Chicago, about withholding my financial aid for me so that I’d be forced to move back to California. Well, it turns out that that is just the tip of the iceberg.
During the depths of my illness, I was helping her out by getting her place ready for renovations. (The dichotomy of this whole situation is that she gets annoyed when I don’t work because I don’t have money, but when I work, she gets upset that I’m not around 24/7 to help her do her chores). While I was cleaning out her office, I came upon a filing cabinet and inside were files on several people, myself and my little brothers included.
Inside my file, I discovered that she had hired a private investigator several times throughout my life, specifically when I was living in LA, Chicago and New Orleans. She knew that I was a stand-up comedian, she had ticket stubs from a couple of my shows. She knew my addresses, had pictures of me with ex-boyfriends that I’d never told her about, and even had pictures of me at red carpet events that I’d attended in LA with friends (none of these were paparazzi photos, these were all from the streets) or at school while I was at Cal Poly. She’d had me followed.
I don’t really know how to tell you how that felt. On one hand, it made me sick, but on the other hand, it totally justified all the paranoia I’ve ever felt in my entire life about feeling followed.
Part of me wants to move to LA and file a fucking restraining order or something. I find it REALLY creepy.
I looked in my little brothers’ files and they were very similar. She had background checks on Cameron’s various girlfriends, and photos of Chuckie at his shows, ticket stubs, and pictures of Chuckie going in-and-out of his apartment in San Jose, which he moved to recently, so I know this isn’t some “thing of the past” just because I haven’t done anything of note, lately.
My aunts told me that it’s perfectly natural to be curious about what their children are up to… and yeah, I can agree with that… up to a point. When your obstructionist actions are premeditated and executed with such precision, that’s when you become a saboteur.