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  • Suzanne Casamento

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Updated: Jun 17, 2021

Returning to LA was hard and weird and…HARD. When I left almost 10 months ago, the Sunset Strip was boarded up, storefronts empty. Ghostly. As if the life had been drained out of the city.

When I returned, people walked the sidewalks, laughed over food at outdoor cafes, jogged, sped, revved their Lambos, and honked way too much. LA was back.

My apartment felt like it wasn’t mine at all. The only familiarity was The Terrible Man Upstairs. He stomped around like he’d never skipped a stomp.


When I complained to the landlord about being woken at 11:40 pm on a Monday and then 12:30 am on a Tuesday (when I had 6:00 am meetings with clients in Paris), the landlord spoke to The Terrible Man Upstairs.


He and his girlfriend told the landlord I'm crazy. A “drama queen.” They said that the friend who’d been staying here over the last 10 months hadn’t complained once and that was evidence that I’m the problem. They said I’m “too sensitive.”

People say you're "too sensitive" when they're upset that you call them out on their abuse.


When I heard that, I reminded the landlord that when I leave, the problem wouldn’t leave with me.


He said he’d relayed that to the man upstairs. The Terrible Man Upstairs replied, “Well, I pay a lot of rent, you know.” Let me type that again.

“Well, I pay a lot of rent, you know.”


The Terrible Man Upstairs thought because his place is bigger and therefore he pays more rent, he deserved to be able to stomp around. And that I don’t deserve to be able to sleep.


Holy entitled rich white man privilege.


It wasn’t just that pompous statement that ignited my fury. It was also that the person who was staying here while I was gone was a Black man. What would have happened if that Black man had walked upstairs, knocked on the rich, egomaniacal entitled white man’s door and told him to knock it off?


That wouldn’t have ended well.


So…I woke up the next morning, bleary eyed and furious and noticed the billboard across the street reading, “Stay Fabulous.” I thought about the man upstairs and how he thinks I don’t deserve to sleep so he can stomp around all night. He was making me miserable. Way too angry. Stealing my power.


So, I decided to do some magic.


I began playing binaural beats for peace, kindness, and faith all day long. If I can feel his terrible energy, he can feel my positive frequencies. Then I played Relax All on my ampcoil and envisioned him receiving the frequencies.


Next, I spoke with my friend, SOUL EMT. She suggested I do a Ho’oponopono prayer. I thought she was nuts. Why would I pray for forgiveness? I hadn’t done anything wrong. She said it would bring balance, so I trusted that her advice was part of the better plan. I said the prayer over and over until finally, my fury subsided.


Now, I’m not about to go hug the guy, but there’s definitely been a shift. Because of it, I feel like I’ll be able to stay here until my departure date and enjoy this beautiful apartment and the life that’s once again flowing through LA.


Because whether the man upstairs thinks so or not, I deserve to stay fabulous.

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