Scaling vast new heights of overdisclosure.

I know I don't post here very often anymore; I actually HAVE been journaling, but in a "what goes around comes around" and "everything old is new again" sort of way, I've been doing it in emails to my friends, while sitting at my call center temp job. It's like I'm 30 again! :) So, I have all kinds of the usual writing about my life -- depressed, anxious, lovelorn, overly self-aware -- but it's in emails scattered across my computer...not here on LJ. Maybe I'll copy it over sometime, but really...why? :)

When I'm not email-journaling at the temp job, I'm often using the extremely rudimentary MicroSoft Paint program that's on the customer service rep computers. And that is how this year's holiday card came to be.

Happy Everything, my friends! :)

Holy Cow.  Somehow, I got nominated for a Fringie award in the "Outstanding Performance" category, for "Entwined".  I'm blown away.  I was blown away last summer, too, when "Entwined" was nominated for a Fringie.  I do not ever expect, nor dream of, such glory.  Anyway, if you feel like going over and voting for me, uh, I guess, by all means, do!  And more on this year's Fringe experience soon -- I haven't had a minute to breathe, much less blog.  Thanks!!!

http://fringefamous.com/post/8823498706/2011-fringie-noms#pd_a_5401707

Hi Everyone --

As some of you know, I'm remounting my most recent original theatre piece, "Entwined", for the 2011 MN Fringe Festival, which begins August 4th. "Entwined" ran in the Fringe as a work in progress last summer, and this summer the goal has been to do a big batch of rewrites, and then rehearse the show (with memorization and blocking and all that good stuff) to be a much more finished (if not entirely finished) production. Unlike everything else I've written, "Entwined" is NOT a solo show. It did start out that way, but it evolved into a two-person piece, which is really exciting -- after several years of talking to myself onstage, it feels great to talk to an actual, tangible person who can make eye contact. This summer, the role of "Bean" in "Entwined" is being played by an awesome, Boston-based actor/writer/storyteller named H.R. Britton, whom I met while we were both touring the Fringe circuit several years ago, and who has his own solo show in the MN Fringe as well.

You might have noticed that I just used the phrase "Boston-based". The challenging thing about H.R. and I rehearsing this show together is that we don't live in the same place. The plan for this summer was that we were going to rehearse "Entwined" via phone and Skype (which I've never tried before!), and then, the last weekend before the Fringe (July 28th-31st), he was going to fly here, and we would do an intensive, nonstop weekend of in-person rehearsin' (ha ha ha), and then he'd go home, work a couple days of his job, and come back to Minneapolis for the Fringe itself.

However, a wrench has just been thrown into those plans. Due to an emergency financial situation, the funding for that weekend rehearsal trip is gone. Trying to open this show on August 5th with only the two or three hours of in-person, face-to-face rehearsal that H.R. and I would have if he didn't come here for a weekend feels daunting and nerve-wracking. I can't imagine being able to get comfortable with all the elements of a production in only that tiny amount of time, and considering that this show is about a romantic relationship that develops and then disintegrates, the energy that we two actors have with each other is integral to the production, and we need a chance to develop and shape that live, in 3D.

In general, I'm trying desperately to figure out a way that we can either get H.R. here for that weekend of rehearsals (flights are currently about $450 at the lowest), or get me to Boston for the weekend (flights are about $400 at the lowest).

I'm wondering if anyone out there has Frequent Flyer miles that they would be willing to donate to this admittedly offbeat cause. I know from my own experience traveling how valuable air miles are, and how long it takes to accumulate them, and I have NO expectations --NONE -- that anyone is going to want to part with theirs. If you happen to be in a magical situation, however, where you have more miles than you know what to do with, or loathe travel, or are afraid of airplanes, or something like that, please do let me know. I have a small number of miles that I can contribute, and if we can accumulate enough and act fast, maybe we can make this happen, and "Entwined" will open on August 5th feeling fantastically rehearsed, and smooth, and comprehensively worked on, and I will experience waves of gratitude and relief, and will thank you in every way I know how. If not, we're resourceful actors, and we'll deal, but I felt like I should give this a shot just in case! :)

Thanks so very much, and have a great weekend!

All the best,

Amy Salloway
Actor/writer, "Does This Monologue Make Me Look Fat?", "So Kiss Me Already, Herschel Gertz!", "Circumference" and "Entwined"
Www.amysalloway.com
amysalloway(at)mindspring(dot)com

Somehow, today's Spark People Poll became a full-blown short memoir piece. Maybe I can use it in something else, later on...I do have a storytelling show coming up in a few weeks (not my full-lenth show, but a cabaret)...hmmm....

Anyway, today's question:

Do walks with your significant other help you feel closer?

My answer:

I haven't had a significant other since dinosaurs roamed the earth, BUT back when I did (a 10-year relationship by the name of David), he didn't want to walk with me, and only did so grudgingly and with much begging and pleading on my part (which is the same way he did several other notable activities, but we don't have to go there). David was a stick-thin, zero-body-fat, food-averse mountain biker, and to him, time that he spent walking with his slow, plodding, roly-poly, chatterbox girlfriend was time that he COULD have been attached symbiotically to his bike, riding like the wind up and down the trails of Snoqualmie and Snohomish and Sequim, silently communing with trees and pinecones and clouds, none of which demanded to know what he was feeling and why was he being so quiet and was he mad at them, he was, wasn't he, he was, and please, if he was, could he just TELL them WHY, because really we should talk about these things, and if we can't communicate what is this relationship based on anyway?

And so, by the time David was browbeaten into giving up his precious nature time to lumber around a lake with me, he was bitter, and taciturn, and resentful...and these feelings only grew more intense as we walked, because he could FEEL, feel in the very cells of his body the comparison between how many calories he COULD be burning per minute pedaling the custom-built, ten-speed love of his life (about 7,459) versus how many calories he was burning as he languished by my side (2); furthermore, because back then I was more out of shape than I am now, and not quite as dedicated to the cardio lifestyle, I often grew discouraged by how laborious walking felt (there were shinsplints, sometimes, and side stitches, and that unsightly and embarrassing perspiration), and I suggested that mayhap David could encourage me. And by "suggested", I mean "whimpered incessantly for some kind of emotional support, often building to full-blown cries of anguish that could rival an Irish wake." "I can't go onnnnnn!" I would wail. "I should just lie down and diiiieee HEEEERE!", I'd sob, as I lowered myself to the grass next to the duck pond.

"Come on", David would mumble, gazing down at a pebble he longed to trade lives with, "you can do it."

"I caaaaan't", I moaned from a fetal position.

"Go Amy", David would say, expressionless as an aspirin tablet. "Woo hoo. Work it, work it. Kick it on out. Swing, batter batter. Show me the money."

Out of inspirational phrases, he'd limply take my hand and pull me back up, and drag me forward, hoping that if he could mobilize me home before dark, maybe he could still get in a paltry two or three hours on his bike.

Later, when our relationship got rocky...okay, rockier...I frantically tried to think of things I could do to unite us together. And I got what I thought was a brilliant idea: I told David that I wanted to start biking. Wouldn't it be great if we could bike together, I said? I mean, sure, I didn't own a bike, and hadn't ridden one in years, but that's what would be so fun -- HE was the cycling expert! He could teach me all about the joys of...you know, whatever was joyful about pedaling a cross-section of metal beams! He could show me bike maintenance, and help me pick out GEAR -- what cyclist doesn't love GEAR? -- and he could work with me to become a better and better rider. I'd be meeting him on HIS turf, I thought proudly -- not forcing him to hold himself back and stunt his growth on mine.

But when I pitched my concept, David was silent. Then, in his famous, almost inaudible mutter, he said, "Oh. Um....I don't know, Amy. It would be...awfully hard for you to match my pace, and....I don't know if I want to slow down for..." He trailed off. "You should just keep walking, you know? It's good that you walk. That's good exercise too."

"But you won't walk with me," I felt myself tearing up. "You never want to."

"That doesn't mean you can't still walk", David said. "You go for walks, and I'll ride my bike, and...we can have those...separate things. It's okay to not do things together. We can't...do everything together."

I couldn't answer. We just sat there, silently. And then, unable to think of anything else to say, David patted my hand. "Go Amy," he said. "Swing, batter batter. Woo hoo. Yeah. You go, girl."

Entwined :: Minnesota Fringe 2011 :: August 4 - August 14 :: Minneapolis + St. Paul

You can feed them. Put your mouse over their tank, and you'll see - they're hoping you brought Tetra flakes. Then click.
Oh. Oh the cuteness.

My city's still breathing (but barely it's true)
through buildings gone missing like teeth.
The sidewalks are watching me think about you,
sparkled with broken glass.
I'm back with scars to show,
back with the streets I know
will never take me anywhere but here.

The stain in the carpet, this drink in my hand,
the strangers whose faces I know.
We meet here for our dress-rehearsal to say
"I wanted it this way".
Wait for the year to drown,
spring forward, fall back down...
I'm trying not to wonder where you are.

All this time lingers, undefined.
Someone choose who's left and who's leaving.

Memory will rust and erode into lists of all that you gave me:
a blanket, some matches, this pain in my chest,
the best parts of lonely...
duct-tape and soldered wires,
new words for old desires,
and every birthday card I threw away.

I wait in 4/4 time.
Count yellow highway lines that you're relying on to lead you home.

-- "Left and Leaving", The Weakerthans.

This song has the same opening stanzas and chord progression as one of my other favorite songs in the entire universe, "The Origin of Love", from "Hedwig & The Angry Inch", and at first it made me cry because of that...because that melody has such a grip on my heart. But then I listened to the lyrics, and realized that The Weakerthans apparently psychically channeled my entire life...every pain and hurt I carry with me, every way I feel about the people and relationships and love I've lost.

I adore this song. It makes me cry and cry.

Spring forward, fall back down...I'm trying not to wonder where you are.

This was written the afternoon of April 5th.

I have exactly two hours to take a shower, wash my hair, and write a 5-minute story for tonight's Story Slam that at the moment I don't even feel like going to, but I have to, because I promised I would, and also because friends of mine are going to be there and I am making a concerted effort to not ditch out on social plans like I've developed a habit of doing.

Still, my instinct is to not want to go to this event. I've been in sort of an all-day freakout. For one thing, I am massively, terrifyingly behind in everything important in my life -- a job search (at the top of the list), writing, getting ready for this conference I have to go to at the end of April, planning for my summer theatre production, updating my website, getting back into the swing of booking gigs... I can't handle how my life has spiraled out of control and off track. I seriously wish I had a case manager, like disabled people do, to help me manage my tasks and figure out what to do every day so that I'm a productive member of society. I'm pretty sure that there are mentally challenged individuals who are functioning at a MUCH higher level than I am right now, and who could do without a case worker so that one could be freed up for me to repair my total lack of forward motion. Because honestly, I FEEL disabled by my inability to conquer any of these tasks that SHOULD be the focus of my life. I don't understand how I've gotten so off-track. I walk around in a state of shame and mortification about this ALL THE TIME, every minute of every day.

Secondly, I am back to being utterly penniless -- I have stuff I desperately need to pay for, and no money to do so. Prescriptions at Walgreen's, phone bill, bus pass, groceries I've run out of, money I borrowed from friends, etc. Freaking out about that too. I discovered two shirts that I can return to Target to get about $20 to put back into checking, so I'm going to do that tomorrow. I need the shirts, but I need the money more. Beyond that, I have no upcoming source of income. That's why I was supposed to get myself some work a month ago. Even if I CAN nab sitting jobs or temp jobs, the paycheck isn't going to come in until weeks from now, which means weeks without being able to get stuff I need.

Third, I went to the doctor the other day, where it was discovered that my weird blood tests from this past fall are only getting weirder, instead of less weird, which is disturbing...and what's more disturbing is that the doctor said that because she can't identify any reason for my hemoglobin and hematocrit to be so perpetually low, and because it's not good to not KNOW the cause of chronically low red cells, the next step from here would be to have a bone marrow biopsy. To say that I am SUPER NOT ENTHUSIASTIC ABOUT THIS is the understatement of the year. There is pretty much worldwide agreement out there that bone marrow biopsies are THE most painful medical procedure a person can undergo with the exception, possibly, of childbirth and amputation. I am so, so not up for this. Seriously, not. If I think about it, I start to panic and cry, like, BIG time, so I need to not think about it. La la la la la, kittens puppies rainbows, kittens puppies rainbows.

I convinced my doctor to let me try a month of iron supplements plus a changover from Omeprazole (for GERD) to Zantac (they're two different kinds of acid reflux drugs, and Zantac spares more calcium and nutrients) to see if that brings my hemoglobin back up before committing to a bone marrow biopsy, so I just started doing that, but if she doesn't see improvement, she's going to want me to have the test of scary horribleness. I am so hoping that these two things help. I also started reading tons of articles online, and it SEEMS like it is not rare for people who are a) overweight, b) low thyroid, and c) suffering from chronic illness to have low hemoglobin without other causes, so maybe someone could just...write this off as my own personal quirk and let it go? The problem with that, of course, is that the low hemo is probably why I'm so godforsaken tired. I dunno. I can't think about it anymore without getting upset.

***This journal entry was written two weeks ago, and somehow I got distracted and never posted it. There were other entries written both before it and after it that have ALSO not gotten posted: apparently I have Delayed Posting Syndrome or something. Sorry. I will try to be better about that, and I'll try to catch people up, even though as the days go by, these entries become more and more outdated. Sorry again.***

Out of the blue, with no explanation, my workout yesterday was...incredible. Amazing. I don't know why. I don't know what happened, I don't know what changed, and I certainly don't have ANY guarantee that this will ever happen again, EVER, but...yesterday was the first day, LITERALLY, in THREE SOLID MONTHS that I was not in pain while I was at the gym.

Let us backtrack for a moment, since I've given fast, drive-by info in status updates but not in a blog. Since the beginning of January, I've been in near constant pain while working out. Not only have I been getting shin splints so bad they've reduced me to tears every single time I go to the gym (and I mean it -- everyone at my gym has had to witness me WEEPING on the treadmill, or while stretching. There have been days when I cried AUDIBLY, my legs hurt so much. There was a day I put my face down in my arms on a foam floor mat and just sobbed, for 20 minutes. Luckily that dramatic moment happened in the wee hours of the morning, but still.), but I've also been suffering through low back pain, hip pain, and these weird, inexplicable side stitches and stomach cramps. Every single workout has been a battle between my desire to push through the agony because I want so badly to be burning the calories and staying fit...and the desire to make the pain stop; to just give up and go home. Every single workout has left me in a state of anxiety and terror: what if by pushing through the pain I'm permanently damaging my legs and back? What if pushing through is going to make the pain worse, not better? What if this pain never goes away, and I'm stuck with an inability to comfortably do any exercise at all, forever? What if I do quit walking and ellipting, and I gain back all the weight I lost, and negate all the fitness gains?

I have, over the past 3 months, done everything a human can do for shin splints -- I've wrapped my legs in ace bandages, I've tried a sample of Rock Tape, I've done stretching upon stretching upon stretching, I've iced, I've rubbed, I've taken Tylenol (I'm allergic to naproxen and ibuprofen), I've taken herbal remedies, I've gotten chiropractic, I've rested, I've changed up my fitness routine, I've taken days off, I've lowered my workout intensity AND my workout length -- and nothing has helped. Also, since the pain always hits mere minutes into starting up the treadmill (usually by minute #6 I'm feeling it), I've had to stop treading, get off and stretch some more, get back on, wait until the pain is agonizing again, get off again and stretch some more...and because of the breaking up of my treadmill time and all the stretching, what used to be 80 minutes spent at Snap Fitness is now sometimes 3 hours. It takes ALL NIGHT to get through my workouts, because they require so many interruptions to deal with the pain. I timed myself on several occasions, and found that in the first hour I was at Snap, I usually only spent about 15 of those 60 minutes actually working out. I know -- would that not drive anyone insane? Would it not make anyone want to give up altogether?

Furthermore, the length of my workouts has thrown off my already bizarre body clock even more, so that my bedtime has shifted into 5 and 6 a.m., and my wake time has ended up at 12 noon or even later, which is horrible - I always feel like I'm missing most of the workday, when people are up and in their offices, when stores are open, when the world is alive. So that's been detrimental. AND, despite my best efforts to keep burning calories and not let the amount of exercise I get decline, I HAVE been gaining back weight. I've regained about 7 pounds, which LUCKILY isn't really visible (I don't think), but it makes me feel like crap about myself.

The triumverate of painful and unsatisfying workouts plus regained weight plus poor sleep hygiene is no doubt a major cause of the intense, profound sadness and depression I've been dealing with lately. I have completely and totally not been myself. I mean, I haven't been the person I've wanted to be in a long, LONG time -- way prior to this drama -- but things have gotten so, so much worse recently. I've just been...ashamed and appalled at my total lack of a life. I have been living at the bottom of a pitch-black hole. I haven't accomplished ANYthing, I have had NO attention span, I have been lonely beyond what words can describe, I've felt rejected to the point of just...cosmic PUNISHment, and I've HATED myself with a seething, raging hatred...and I've felt utterly hopeless and clueless as to how to fix this.

I ended up seeing a physical therapist last week who was really kind and gentle, and took my leg pain very seriously. He did all kinds of strength tests on me, and after each one exclaimed (in what sounded like a genuine tone), "WOW, you're strong!". He didn't patronize my concern about my workouts - he seemed to be pleased that I was so committed to my workouts. If I sound surprised that a health practitioner would treat me so compassionately, it's because until recently, health practitioners did NOT treat me compassionately. Um, pretty much ever. I got the archetypal responses that obese people get, most of the time -- which is to say, everything was blamed on my weight, no matter what. Thyroid problems. Ear infections. Chest pain. For most of my life, none of my health concerns were given any creedence, because I was the Fat Lady. And Fat People don't deserve decent healthcare.

Anyway -- so this was a nice departure from that. The PT guy didn't mention my weight at all, not once, during our appointment. He complimented my choice of running shoes (I brought in both pairs to show him what I've been walking in -- I am alert and responsible that way), and praised my knowledge of stretching routines. He gave me additional stretches to do, which I've been doing, but in general, he didn't have any major answers for how to get the shin pain to go away -- he reassured me, though, that if I'm not in agonizing pain AFTER my workout (which I'm not -- the pain starts out awful, and slowwwwly gets somewhat better if I stick it out), then I'm probably not causing myself permanent damage. He said that he'd be more worried if the pain continued even after I'd stopped walking -- which it doesn't. I mean, my shins hurt like phuk if someone presses on them, or tries to massage along the tendons, but they don't hurt in the splinty way if I'm not in motion, which apparently is a positive thing.

SO -- that is what I've been going through over the past 3 months. On top of all of THAT, as you may have read in my facebook statuses (stati?), I've been crushed by a relapse of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, and/or possibly some kind of resurgence of the symptoms I've had when I've worried that my thyroid was off -- that is, the symptoms I am very familiar with from 20 years now of CFS flare-ups and thyroid malfunction. So I took myself in to the doctor yesterday and get labs drawn. My results were exactly the same as they've been EVER SINCE my doctor told me this past September that "wow, these are disturbing blood test results" -- ie, super-low hemoglobin, hematocrit, MCH, MCV, with super-HIGH sed rate, and normal ferritin. The same lab results that got me sent for a whirlwind of tests this past autumn, including the colonoscopy, to figure out if I had cancer, or a tumor, or a terrible intestinal disease. In other words, I continue TO THIS DAY to have a FREAKISH lack of red blood cells, and MASSIVE systemic inflammation, and no one knows why, STILL. Going gluten-free has not changed anything, at all. The amount of vitamins I take (ie, metric tons) and the amount of exercise I do (metric tons) has had no effect. I remain in a state that resembles deathly, chronic, reactionary anemia. With no answers. When I got the test results, I started crying. I am so frustrated. I guess I should be grateful I'm not, you know, ACTUALLY dead, but still. If no one can figure out what the motherofgod is wrong with me, the recurring health issues I live with will NEVER get a chance to go away. I worry already that the second half of my life will be increasingly compromised by the toll these symptoms have taken on me -- that they have worn down my autoimmune system so much, that all my cells are so very old and tired and creaky, I will be susceptible to all kinds of much more horrible diseases as I get older, that I'll be so fragile and vulnerable -- and so far, no one has any ideas how to change my fate. So the best I can do is to try to make myself strong like an ox, which is a huge reason I've been exercising like crazy, or trying to. But even THAT has been compromised.

Which brings us back, after A VERY LONG DIGRESSION, to the shin splints and their relations.

So anyway, out of the blue -- without any rationale or reason -- I get this ONE AFTERNOON, yesterday, of suddenly having a pain-free workout. I felt so good on the treadmill, I didn't want to stop. I wanted to walk as long as I humanly could do so, just to soak in how wonderful it felt to move easily and happily. I was so AWARE of NOT BEING IN PAIN -- I mean, it was shocking. The way that NOT having pain present affected me -- the way it brought back my energy and my enjoyment of walking in this gigantic WHOOSH -- was so intense, it made me realize how profoundly and systemically I've been affected by that pain. Like, I don't think I even "got" before yesterday how much chronic pain had been altering everything about my body. I don't think I fully realized that I haven't had, like, ONE MOLECULE of endorphins in the past 3 months, so no WONDER I've been so immobilized by depression and anguish -- there has been no BENEFIT to any of the exercise I've been pushing myself to do! I've been Sisyphus, pushing the rock up the hill only to be crushed by it day after day! I don't think I realized how much pain had changed my posture, or how limited and restricted my movement had become, until it wasn't there, and the old me was back for a moment -- the free-moving, fast-paced, strong, capable me. It was just...amazing. Amazing to get a break from how I've felt for three months. I walked for 110 minutes because I could. I would have gone for longer except that I truly had to get home and do some other stuff. But the minute I started walking home, I wished I didn't have any other obligations. I wanted to just...keep...moving.

I have no idea what my workout later tonight will feel like. For all I know, I'll be back to shin splints and side cramps and agony. I have no guarantee that there will EVER be a repeat of yesterday. I really hope there will. I'm crossing my fingers.

I would write more, because there is lots more to say, but I have to get ready to go see a show tonight. More eventually, and here's to the deep, abiding hope for another workout that feels good!