By Joy A. Kennelly

I am listening to Comedian Kevin James Thornton's podcast, This Ends in Paris Podcast, and I'm deeply moved by all the people calling in to share deep personal stories and him sharing his life story as he evolves into the mainstream comedian he is today.

I've been a fan of Kevin James' funny auto-tune Instagram stories It Was The 90's as a fundamental Christian who later came out gay and just discovered his podcast today when he's almost completed the final episode. It's like peeling back the covers to see what lies beneath this funny, complex person in a whole new way. Or like discovering your "friend" has this whole other secret life you never knew existed!

Listening also makes me realize that maybe it's time to reconnect with this part of my life too. 

I love blogging. I love writing. And I stopped because I wasn't making money spending 4-5 hours crafting the perfect blog except for the satisfaction of creating something that mattered to me and ironically, sometimes other people.

Then I hid. I had taken a lot of grief from people in the South Bay where I grew up when I fought back against all the underage drinking in my beach communities in my blog and got tired of dragging that persona around with me whenever I would go anywhere there. It was a blessing and a curse.

Because I campaigned against so much of the debauchery, we made the news (print and radio), and things calmed down. You could walk Downtown Manhattan Beach and not see 19-year-old kids lying on the sidewalk drunk out of their minds. Or homeless people scavenging on the beach for all the cans left from the wild volleyball tournaments that many people were attempting to turn into a stateside Ibiza.

But it was also a lonely time and I eventually outgrew the need to attempt to change a culture that didn't want to be changed and focused on other things. Like cleaning up my new ghetto neighborhood. That went over well too, but at least we didn't have mattresses, furniture, trash, and other gross things, just lying around so much.

You could say I'm a fixer of sorts.

Although I don't drink and can't stay out in the sun too long without risk of skin cancer, the beach was home for many years and I still have lifelong friends there, but it's not my life anymore and hasn't been for many years.

Once the pandemic hit and Governor Newsom decided we should all be locked down like caged animals I almost lost my mind from deep loneliness and isolation. Although I'm an introvert inherently, I still enjoy being around people, and when the only people you're allowed to see are a Dad who is emotionally unavailable and no one else, I quickly became suicidal.

It didn't help that I had had a hysterectomy before covid hit which kept me laid up for a few mos. even before the shutdown. It was during that recovery time I realized that the friends I thought would be there for me were so busy trying to survive in LA that they didn't have time to visit and spend time with me when I was bedridden.

They're my going out, going to church, having fun friends, not my hey, let me bring you a meal, let me spend time with you friends. The friends I used to have who were the let's go to dinner and talk, let's spend quality, deep time together died and my world has become much smaller after they left this earth.

And there's a time and place for those social friends too, but not when you're lonely and hurting. That's when you need the ride or die, I'm here for you friends. Fortunately, I still have a few I love dearly who are helping me survive my lonely time here in Austin. 

After my partial hysterectomy, I recovered enough to start working again but then caught an early strain of COVID-19 after doing a music video where I was covered in blue paint and pretended to be the mother of an alien. Weird I know, but we had fun creating it. I still stay in touch with Jerry, the guy who played the Dad via Instagram. Ah, the things we do for money...

I went to my gay Vietnamese Dr who reminded me of the crazy rich uncle in the over-the-top Asian movie because he was so funny. Crazy, Rich Asians, remember that movie?

My Dr worked at the Venice clinic filled with crazy homeless people I was forced to visit due to not having insurance or low-income insurance and even he was baffled by my COVID symptoms. That was until he caught it from me and later on told me that was what it was.

Sorry, Doc.

But when you can't breathe, you cough so much you crack 3 ribs, and you don't see an end in sight, you go to the doctor. I survived the first bout of COVID without many people understanding how awful it was because it hadn't hit the general population when I had it, and again, to my recollection, nobody came to see me then either except my dear 'ole Dad.

He's not the most empathetic, sympathetic person although he tries in his way so basically, I was on my own through this horrible ordeal. He tries to be supportive and has gotten better over the years after I've bawled him out a few times for his lack of empathy and support, but when I read about other Dads or watch certain celebrities with their children I can see how much love I've missed out on.

The only thing that ultimately helped me recover covid was my friend Susanna, who is very into homeopathic medicine, sending me her bottle of OregaResp and it cleared my lungs out within days when nothing else helped, including a steroid breathalyzer (or whatever those things are called.)

This is a natural remedy with oregano and black pepper which loosens up the gunk to expel it. I've since turned numerous people on to it who can't stop coughing and have difficulty breathing because it really works and they're always so happy for the healing. 

Anyway, back to my story. 

So imagine how stir-crazy I was after being locked up in my single apartment for almost 5 months before the lockdown that turned out to have no kitchen that somehow I didn't see when I rented it! LOL All I saw when I looked at it initially was the huge space with a fireplace and great price, my kind landlords, who turned out to know my Dad from years ago when the husband used to clean my Dad's apartment carpets, and because normally I was out all the time, the crappy neighborhood didn't bother me.

However, once the lockdown happened I realized my next-door neighbor had a huge pot plant growing in the backyard next to my kitchen area window with strange people yelling at him in the alley at weird times indicating he "allegedly" could be a drug dealer. The other neighbor, an older East Indian man separated from his wife, had a major crush on me making it uncomfortable sometimes to be in the front yard although he was harmless, and everywhere I looked in this neighborhood were old mattresses, garbage, and other furniture people just abandoned on the streets when they moved out.

I'll never forget seeing a Mexican guy all bloodied up walking down the street and asking if I could help only to be told he'd been jumped by black guys at a nearby bar. I had to force him to get medical treatment and when the ambulance came I was so relieved because he had major head injuries and he could barely stand up. 

Seeing parties going off and hearing gunfire was a common occurrence in Hawthorne, CA and it was no wonder that it was ranked as one of the most crime-ridden communities in the nation. 

Nothing more so describes the experience than during the 4th of July because in lower-income areas, for some reason they enjoy shooting off fireworks 3 months before and a month after. I've recently been diagnosed with PTSD which I'm working on healing from all my life traumas, but back then I didn't know why I was so triggered and it felt like my nervous system would implode out of my body the cacophony of noise from the random cherry bombs, dogs barking and car alarms going off on a non-stop basis was enough to drive me insane. 

I can remember standing in the middle of my street after calling my district representative and just recording all the loud firecracker noise going off and demanding she do something to make it stop. But if you know Maxine Waters, she was only a politician for the political goodies she could get for herself and her cronies and despite people complaining about her not doing anything for them, once they got their free turkeys and other handouts, they forgot and voted her back in again.

Sometimes I think certain demographics deserve to stay living in poverty because of their bad decisions based on simply voting by the color of their politician's skin and free handouts rather than character and how the politician helps them achieve a better life. There was one black politician I admired and wished she had been my representative because she cared about her community above and beyond hand-outs and she got things accomplished.

Unlike Maxine. 

I also was so stressed out about all the firework noise another year, I drove 45 minutes up to Hancock Park and parked outside the Mayor's home to demand in person he do something about it. I was only talked out of it by calling my therapist at the time who recommended I not do that. Couple that with the police officers who came by to ask me what I was doing parked there, which convinced me to drive away. I think it's funny now, but I was furious back then. I didn't feel safe anywhere.

I began to dislike my neighborhood and California more and more because I had to face it constantly and there was no relief from the onslaught of stupid policy decisions. Even when people began getting better, the LA Health woman with no medical degree still forced people to stay masked and inside because she wanted there to be parity in all races.

However, my demographic wasn't the one holding massive quinceañera parties, or massive birthday parties during the lockdown, but it probably saved a lot of them because your immune system gets stronger once you've had an illness and I'm sure they exposed each other over and over again.

However, I know many probably died, including one of my best friends. She had many underlying health issues and refused to get the vaccine which I think in her weakened condition she probably should have. But I think the main thing that killed her was Fauci's protocol with the ventilators because her lungs flooded and she drowned in her body fluids after they did certain things to her. If it was me, I would have sued, but the family isn't me so... I miss that friend a lot, but her sister is a lot like her so I enjoy speaking to her still. 

But I digress. 

So after I recovered from Covid I went to probably my last startup tech event which was held in Downtown LA surrounded by tons of homeless encampments and in a warehouse-style building where everyone was shilling their startups. I popped into a lecture between a Delta Airlines executive and a funny charismatic tech investor/entrepreneur whose name escapes me now. I wanted to hear the Delta guy because I used to work for Delta and was curious to hear what he had to say about how they're incorporating tech into their airline operations.

There was a raffle and I won the free Delta Airline tickets to attend SXSW in March of 2020. Yeah, that year. Lucky me. The tech investor guy was upset I won and made some stupid remark from the stage, but I had been involved in that tech scene for 4 years by then and was used to the misogyny of these types of guys.

I was happy because my sister lived in Austin, TX with my niece and I'd always wanted to visit to see if Austin was where I was going to move next. I had hated living in CA long before the pandemic and had been plotting my escape for a long time, but since none of my sisters were taking care of my Dad regularly, I kind of felt obligated to stick around. 

My Mom died in 2016 and I cared for my Dad while living there for years until I moved away and then bounced back. He's very independent, but I helped him by making meals (since he didn't cook), handling tech issues, and setting his bills up on auto-pay to make it easier for him. I also handled any other issues he couldn't figure out on his own. I was his main "caregiver" and my sisters would visit when they could, but it wasn't very often. I have since learned this is the way in many families.

I listened to Brené Brown speak once about a relative, I forget who, who had something catastrophic happen so the whole family ran to the hospital. She jumped into her bossy caregiver role to avoid feeling and the other family members fell into their familiar roles. As she described the familial roles, I realized she was describing me and my sisters to a T. I had done so much, and it relieved my sisters of doing as much or more because they felt I was caring for him. They may disagree, but this is my story and I'm sticking to it. I have the receipts too.

I stuck out the pandemic as long as I could by developing a fascination with John Mayer and his music because I found when I listened to it, my mind finally relaxed and I was able to sleep. Do you remember during the pandemic when you had no motivation to do anything, but then couldn't sleep at night wondering if the world was going to end? That was my daily experience and somehow listening to all John Mayer's entire alumbography (is that even a word?:) I was soothed.

I also continued to have the delusion that I was communicating with Dwayne the Rock Johnson via Instagram and held many a sexy time via the internet with who I thought was him. LOL However, no sexy pictures because I learned the hard way earlier on in my life that men don't always keep things like that to themselves. And I'm not that kind of girl anymore.:)

Whoever he was, thank you for helping me get through the pandemic and so much of the craziness I experienced until then. I must have communicated with that person for almost 4 years and know whoever he was he helped me handle a lot of bad stuff. Same with John Mayer who I still listen to when I can't sleep and other times because his Instagram posts make me laugh or smile more often than not. Same with Dwayne.

My therapist and I used to laugh whenever I brought both of these guys up in session because I knew it couldn't be real and she knew for a fact it wasn't. But a girl can dream, right?:) I like encouraging celebrities because I feel they get so isolated by fame there's no one real around them and it's nice to hear a female who doesn't want anything from them, but friendship.

So once I knew I wasn't going to make it through more time in California without real live people, not internet fantasies when a friend said she had a back room in her Georgia house for rent in Savannah, I jumped at the chance to flee because as I told my Dad, if I stay here, I will commit suicide I can't take it any longer. I hated to leave him and he hated to see me go, but we knew I needed out of this awful situation more than most people.

I found a luxury van that fit all my worldly belongings remaining after I had sold off a bunch of things including my bed and car, drove cross country to Savannah, and settled in for probably 2 months before her boyfriend began saying inappropriate things occasionally and she felt jealous of him helping me out so much. He helped me buy a car which was a total junker but I loved it until I didn't. It also helped me make friends with another Honda Element owner when I asked for a good mechanic and we still stay in touch to this day, years later.

I was able to trade my car in for my current Kia and even though I didn't think I'd like it, I have grown to love it over the years. It's sturdy, runs well, and holds a lot of stuff when I need to buy a piece of furniture or move something.

When my Savannah living situation became untenable, I packed up everything into a U-Haul truck and drove up to live in Atlanta with an old church friend who turned out to have major hoarding issues and OCD issues in addition to being verbally abusive. He was so awful to me even though the rent was super low, I moved out as fast as I could, threw my things in storage, and began staying in hotels around the area. The friends I used to have when I lived in Atlanta the first time weren't there for me when I came back and I got back into acting where I developed more friends. 

I'll never forget renting a hotel room in Motel 6 which must have had about 600 rooms because it was 6 floors high or so and hearing fire alarms going off. Everyone was out on the balconies looking, but I packed up my room, went down to the front desk demanded my money back, and tore out of there after hearing that the room above me had been creating meth and it got out of control causing a fire.

The whole place seemed like there were drug addicts, drug dealers, prostitutes, and others. I wasn't making much catering at the Georgia Aquarium and spending money on hotels so learned my lesson the hard way.  Don't be cheap if it means your safety is in danger.

I ended up finding a great rate at a gorgeous Downtown Atlanta Marriott where they often film due to its iconic architecture. But what I forgot was parking and it was $40/night. I ended up finding a place across the street for $10 and would see people filming around the neighborhood as I walked to and from the hotel and inside too. That was a lot of fun and so was acting on the Atlanta shoots because so many of the big Hollywood films had escaped Governor Newsom to work there. 

What I found maddening was that despite Georgia not having the same Covid restrictions as California, due to SAG, PGA, DGA, etc being located in Los Angeles, all the productions began to have to follow the archaic, non-scientific rules even though everyone in GA had been free before. I hated wearing masks because I couldn't breathe and it raised my blood pressure too high.

So when I was working at the Georgia Aquarium, we had to wear long-sleeve shirts, a tie, AND a vest with a mask I began to experience really serious side effects after all the running around and not breathing properly. It got so bad, I went to urgent care and the doctor told me I couldn't do the job anymore because I would have a stroke. My blood pressure had shot so high it was dangerous. I had been slurring my words, staggering and that's when I knew something was drastically wrong.

Then, I stayed at an Airbnb near the airport and the guy running it began coming on to me wanting to give me a foot massage to calm me down, asking me all kinds of sexually oriented questions and I began to freak out. My health was failing, I didn't feel safe where I was staying and I learned that streets I was driving through to get to work, the very next day in the paper online it would say someone had been shot the night before. I also learned that a Chicago gang was trying to take over Atlanta and that's why murders were up. They're still up and crime is still high according to a DJ I still stay in touch with, again via Instagram.:)

After the gruesome murder of a lesbian whose breasts were cut off and her dog killed when she was walking late at night in the park everyone goes to I knew that was it. I didn't feel safe anywhere. I wanted out. I had a small extra role in Shazam filming there and knew the park well. It was shocking to everyone and the Mayor was called out for allowing crime to increase so quickly.

I called my Dad and even though he was initially against it, he relented and I was able to move back in with him. I left my car with a friend and my things in storage in GA and just flew home. I was with my Dad helping him again and taking care of my health too for almost a year. I never really felt like I was meant to stay in California though because it was still bad.

I remember driving anywhere in CA and everywhere there were huge homeless encampments similar to what I see every so often in South Austin. But far worse. It was every street, every overpass, everywhere. You couldn't escape it. Governor Newsom had decided all homeless were welcome so they came for the warm weather and never got off the streets. I broke the story of downtown LA being so overrun with homeless by filming as I drove and then more news coverage came as a result.

But it's never changed. Only got worse.

The money that's been thrown at the issue is eaten up by crooked people, and people charging exorbitant amounts to build simple structures. That's why when I see the City Council in Austin thinking throwing more money at the problem is going to fix it, all I see is more problems and no resolution.

I was homeless briefly and survived by couch surfing with friends all over the Northwest I attended Bible college together with and took advantage of government assistance to get into an apartment with 2 black women who were also coming off being homeless.

One was nice although she would steal my food and use her money to buy weed, whereas the other was racist against me in ways I've never experienced before or since. We almost came to blows once, but I decided it wasn't worth going to jail over. I ultimately helped the nice one get into another apartment away from the racist bitch because she hated all of us equally and helped her also begin to reconcile with her family which was nice to see.

However, that experience was at a major cost emotionally and I will never allow it to happen again. From there, I built my life back and that's why I know it can happen, but not without a determination to never live that life again. Drug addicts and those making more money begging on the corner than holding a real job don't want to do it and oftentimes, can't due to their addictions. That's why I believe mental health assistance, and drug rehabilitation centers are more needed and places to live, not more money thrown at them.

But I digress. Where was I?

Oh yeah, anyway, I'm getting tired so I'm going to stick a pin in this for now. But I wanted to share my story a little because there's so much animosity online against Californians who have moved to Texas, but we don't all have a ton of money or want to screw up the cool culture that makes Austin weird.

Some of us just want to live in peace, breathe freely, not see homeless drug addicts everywhere, and feel like we can have a little bit more safety than was provided in California. I have more peace living in Austin, although it has had its own rough experiences, but I feel like this is where I've come to heal.

The nature and deer I see regularly feed my soul. I enjoy not hearing gunshots or other craziness where I live. I like my neighbors and my landlord. My apartment is huge compared to what I used to live in in Los Angeles and I even have a patio that I haven't done anything with because I enjoy hanging out near the pool more.

I've found a therapist who has experience in brain spotting and EMDR, two unique ways to heal trauma faster and/or in conjunction with talk therapy. I'm hopeful this will be the year I can heal the trauma I've carried all my life and begin to really live. Thank you for being there for my journey thus far. The best is yet to come!

(Please note, I'm providing my affiliate links above so click away as it helps me while making life easier for you! But seriously, thank you.)