Category: My Journey

Thank You For Making Things BETTER

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Thank you friends and family for helping Shane​ and I over the past few months. Thank you for helping us eat, pay our rent and bills and turn Shane’s phone back on. Thank you for sending anonymous cards and non-anonymous cards filled with love and hope and survival. Thank you for writing emails and Facebook messages to ease our frustration and make us not feel crazy or alone. I’m so happy to share that Things Are BETTER!!!

My Mama, who was living with us for two months to get through a manic spell, which became a depressive spell, went to live with her brother closer to San Diego a few weeks ago. We would have been happy to continue taking care of her until her depression lifted, but her knee randomly swelled up to the size of a grapefruit. In October, before she was staying with us, she tripped on her recliner and fell, landing with one knee on the floor and one knee on a mattress on the floor. She tended to the more injured one and it healed up great. The other one got some attention when she came to our place a few weeks later and then it seemed fine. But now she can barely put weight on it. So my loving and kind Uncle Danny and Aunty Linda are taking care of her in a more knee-friendly house. And they helped her find a knee specialist. And they are learning about and helping with her depression. Thank you guys for being truly amazing. And making things BETTER!!!

TheWholeRuth KindnessBeauty Louis Card

Mama is doing better too. She and I were talking about how it’s important to define what “better” means with her right now. The swelling in her knee has gone done about 85% and she’s waiting for her MRI authorization to go through. But she still can’t walk down a step without pain. And depression wise, after another dosage change that happened three weeks ago, her energy level is still very low, but her brain can think more. So she can watch an hour of TV instead of no TV at all. And she can participate in a conversation with more ease and mind clarity. She even said, in response to a positive story about Shane, “Please tell him I share his joy.” Like angel cake frosting in my ears! Yet at the same time, she said she still wouldn’t eat if someone didn’t make her eat because she has no appetite or motivation. But… she is doing BETTER!!!

Before Mom stayed with us, one of my best friends needed a place to stay and lived with us for two months, which sounds like a sleepover! And it is always fun to be around a bestie, but when we were barely able to take care of ourselves, it was also scary to be needed. He is doing BETTER now too! And having the house to ourselves is letting us focus on making life BETTER!

And Shane’s studio job finally started!!! The job had been pushed back for two and a half months, in a way that seemed like it was going to start every two weeks so he couldn’t look for an in-between job. But now he has a job and he loves it, which is BETTER!!!

15.1.21 TheWholeRuth Sunshine Flower card

I am getting $400 a month from the government to live off of while my foot heals. Which sounds crazy. For multiple reasons… Because I don’t want to live off of the government, but I have to pay it back, so that makes it better! And the amount sounds too impossibly small to live on, but it helps with bills and food and gives me some freedom to focus on my foot, which makes things BETTER!

And now I also finally have health insurance that I can afford, because it’s free! And I have a regular physician and a regular physical therapist for the first time in seven years. My doctor said, “You have a team now that will help you.” I am supported and my healing is reflecting that. I had my first physical in eight years and I’m healthy! He said, “Your foot will heal and you are healthy.” BETTER!!!

I’m also very grateful to have learned that I’m codependent and I’m working on taking care of myself first. It’s a new mindset that is very foreign and freeing and I feel much more peace inside. It’s also helping my physical healing. Each day I feel better and… BETTER!

Also, here is some vague good news: Shane met with “some people” that appreciate his writing like his current studio does, for being the boundary-less, imaginative, playful writing that it is! And his studio was so giddily supportive of him meeting with “these people,” that it is such a gift for him to being surrounded by confident friends who are encouraging him to grow, giving him freedom to grow, and giving him the experience to grow. BETTER.

We chose a path to be artists. We had heard the phrase “starving artist,” but we didn’t truly understand what we were signing up for. We wouldn’t be able to be true to our hearts without your help. And if we weren’t allowed to be true to our hearts, I don’t know how we would live. Thank you for giving us life rafts to reach ourselves. Love you guys. I hope knowing that your spirits are helping ours brightens your day a bit and makes you feel BETTER…

14.12.7 TheWholeRuth ThankYou card

Math on the Beach

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While our East coast friends are stuck in the cold, here in LA, the desert flowers are blooming. I went to the beach to do my physical therapy sand walking on a Tuesday at the end of February. And it was much more than therapy for my body. Rain had fallen the day before, which in LA is a rare and sky-changing thing.

TheWholeRuth Rain AlmostLooksLikeSnow

The sky always changes as it rains, but here, it’s the sky the day after the rain that makes the whole town look different. There is usually a black dust in the air from pollution and it’s on the cars, on the porches, even on the window sills- on the inside of the house. The rain gives the city and its sky a bath. (The inside of the house is up to you.) The next day is clear and blue… And puffy, plump white clouds stretch their arms, sometimes with puffy, plump deep gray clouds rumbling punches behind them, ready to rain again. It’s beautiful. I like to imagine that the day after rain is how it must have looked in the 1920’s when Charlie Chaplin lived here. It’s a time machine day where we get to see it as he did.

15.2.24 TheWholeRuth Beach Physical Therapy Chaplin

The beach was therapy for my soul and my foot. It was wildly windy, in a way I’ve never seen it. As I lay on the blanket I brought, the wind would whip around the sand so much that whatever part of the blanket I wasn’t covering, would just look like sand. At some points, I had to cover my head with my towel so I wouldn’t drown in air-sand. Even though that doesn’t sound peaceful, the sun was hot, the breeze was cool, and there was something animalistic and freeing about letting the sand do what it wanted around me like I was lying in the middle of a tribe of sand grains who were chanting and dancing, mad with joy. I felt honored that they let me be there.

And when I stood and walked around, the blowing sand stayed low and I could breathe the brisk salt air and enjoy feeling my foot roll through and my leg extend further back behind me than it has in years, knowing the next step would come and this would continue on in a rhythm that makes me feel like a Lion Queen.

I was even smitten with the sun light in the bathrooms.

15.2.24 TheWholeRuth beach bathrooms

I’ve been going to the beach about twice a week for physical therapy for a few weeks now. Sometimes it’s in the day and I get to go in the water up to my waist. A friend asked later if the water was cold, and since the Pacific is usually like ice, it was the first time I remembered that it probably was cold. But it hadn’t dawned on me. When I’m there alone, I’m not worried about someone else being uncomfortable in the water with me and I can get lost in the gratefulness to be walking, in the ocean, in the middle of the day, on a weekday, in February. I remembered that when I’m there, I first set my toes in with the intention to ice them, since I have to do that three times a day anyway. And it’s so exciting to be leg wrestling with the waves that all of a sudden, I’m in up to my thighs and it doesn’t feel cold at all. Sometimes I go at night and there are bonfires. Once, a woman in a bikini top and a flowing skirt was juggling flaming rings. Sometimes I go for fifteen minutes in my jeans, just to take off my shoes and let my feet move through the sand.

When I walk there, I can roll through my foot with no pain. I can only walk in five-minute increments, rest, and repeat, but it feels so wonderful to be able to do that. And it’s adding up.

15.2.24 TheWholeRuth Palm Trees Snow Mountains

Long-term Erotic Intelligence

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Esther speaks of opposites that have battled each other in my mind. She says them with an obviousness that makes me wonder why I could have ever seen them as opposing ideas. They are opposite, but a pair. There is no harmony without both.

Thank you, Esther, for your help today. Happy Valentines Day.

From the Ted Talk site:

In long-term relationships, we often expect our beloved to be both best friend and erotic partner. But as Esther Perel argues, good and committed sex draws on two conflicting needs: our need for security and our need for surprise. So how do you sustain desire? With wit and eloquence, Perel lets us in on the mystery of erotic intelligence.

*Spoiler Alert: I’m Angry.

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I found my breaking point today. Which breaking point? The one where I, from the depths of my soul, want to physically attack/maim/permanently scar another person in the Whole Foods parking lot.

I’m in physical therapy still and my foot hurts more while we’re strengthening the muscles, so I can walk less right now. I’m rationing walk time between showering, making my meals, walking to the car to take my mom to her doctor appointments, walking to the car to go to my doctor appointments, and whatever else. If you see me out, it’s because I “saved up” for days to look normal. I can’t take jobs because I usually end up going to meet clients and now I’m asking them to come to me because of my foot and they’ve said no. So I’m applying for General Relief, which requires walking down and up a giant hill and standing in lots of lines. Today I went to hand in the items I’ve gathered through walking to the physician, the bank, and Into the Woods. Not really the last part, but that’s what I feel like. The line wrapped around the building and I can’t physically stand there long enough to get help from the government. And I’ve called eight times over the past week and can’t reach anyone to make an appointment. I’ll figure it out, but today I am mad. Also we’ve been taking care of my Mama at our house since mid-November because she was going through a dangerous medicine change and because she was manic, and then depressed, and is now slowly doing better. Shane had no job for almost 3 months because he got laid off from his day job and his studio job kept getting postponed. Which is normal, but makes getting a filler day job hard when you would have to tell your boss you can only work there for 3 weeks. Also, I learned I’m codependent and have been going to meetings, which is helpful to have some hope that I can change the pattern of my life, but is truly hard and confusing work every minute. This week Shane’s studio job started a few days a week, I had two doctor appointments and the General Relief non-appointment, and mom had two doctor appointments in a different city and we were sharing one car. Driving everyone around that much hurts my old back injury. On a different note, our friend passed away last week. That is too serious and sad to include in the middle of all this. So I’ll continue talking about trivial things. Shane also got a cold, Mom got pink eye, and I got really mad at that lady in the parking lot.

After I was almost completely backed out of my spot, she showed up out of nowhere and nudged the nose of her car in my car’s butt. She blocked me in, in turn, blocking herself from going anywhere. There was no one behind her so she could have just backed up, but didn’t. I finished backing out by inching back and forth a couple times and then pulled out. Then she honked. Then the world turned black and I rolled down my window and, with the force of Grey Skull, yelled FUCK YOU. My throat doesn’t hurt. The wind tunnel that I became was fluid and strong. And then I wanted to get out and smash her collagen face. But there was a security guard so I couldn’t. Also, I think it would hurt my chances of not going to jail during my lifetime.

I came home and cried a lot. I hate that I feel bad about sticking up for myself, I hate that there are people that are so oblivious to others, and I hate that I felt so violent. So anyway, I’m losing it. Please send prayers. I’m patient, and I know I have to keep doing what I’m doing and get better little by little. But I don’t like it. And my tolerance glass is overflowing and spilling all over the place. Thanks for letting me bitch here. If you’ve read this far, please know that you listening is a replacement for that lady’s face being bashed in. Although, she may have liked another excuse to get more plastic surgery… Oops, I’m still angry. After all these words I’ve written! At least I’m less angry. Truly. I feel better. I needed to let that out. Thanks guys.

For those of you who hate long-winded, non-positive albeit truthful social media rants, please write one about how much you hate this one. That will cause someone else to write one and soon your nightmare will be reality. In all honesty, this is the shortest version I can write. This is as close to a Tweet as I can get. It’s too long and it barely says all that’s really happening. I need a more open and longer-voweled word to be more accurate about what this is. This is my Twaaat. If my Twaaat offends you, why are you still reading at this point? Watch this video instead:

 

I find solace in the ocean.

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I find solace in the ocean. The past few years, I’ve become very grateful to learn that there is healing there. I’ve lost two friends in those years and went on the nights of their passing, with Shane, to sit by the sea and weep. My tears feel small there. Maybe it’s because my salt-water droplets are so small compared to it. Maybe because it’s so open and non-judgmental. Maybe it’s because right when you see the sun set over the water and you think that day’s sun won’t ever be the same, the stars faintly start to glimmer… Friday, Shane called with sad news… “ Jason Chin passed away.”

In 2003, we had just moved from Pittsburgh to Chicago and were so excited to be in a city that was new and sparkling to us. We’d saved up and packed up and traveled with our college sketch group to our new apartment that we shared as a pack of wild animals. We had made it to the comedy capital of the world. And we had no idea what we were doing.

One day, Shane Portman and I decided to visit Improv Olympic. We had moved to Chicago to focus on sketch, but we knew we were surrounded by the best of the best improv and when we accidentally passed the theatre, we wanted to go in. It was daylight; we were surprised the door opened. It smelled musty and was dark. The little entrance way was like a big walk-in closet and led to some stairs on the left, a velvet, draping curtain on the right. Old, loved photos of performers we recognized took up every inch of wall space. But there was no one there. We thought we should leave, but we felt we should stay. And we felt like being sneaky. We peeked through the curtain to what seemed like a basement with a ramp to a stage. But the stairs were calling our name. Back to the little entranceway, one foot on a stair, one look at a new photo, another stair, another photo, creeping and giggling all the way up. We thought we were doing something no one had ever done and that no one would ever know. The door at the top of the stairs opened. It led to a bigger theatre, it was all dark, we tip toed through the wide space toward the other end where there was a door filled with light. Eyes skimming the dark, hearts racing, mouths whispering, so excited to be in such a cool place, we made it to the door, first face, then head, then neck, deciding which way to turn, and then all of my fight-or-flight chemicals tumbled over my body. We were caught- by Jason R. Chin.

In the tiny moments between my brain recognizing “There is a human here after all, he sees us and is inhaling to speak” and the moments when he actually spoke, I thought we were going to jail. Maybe not jail, but maybe jail, I just remember freaking out. But, instead, Jason’s wide smile warmed everything. We learned that when Jason catches you, he welcomes you. He not only was fine with us wandering the theatre, he offered to show us around even further. He showed us the classrooms, the office, and in the honest way he did these simple things, he showed us his spirit. His open heart was the first clue that we had found a home.

Years later, I remember we helped him move. I don’t remember packing any boxes, although we must have? All I remember is that we left with treasured things that Jason gave us. Something tall and skinny- a lamp that I thought was very fancy, props and costumes that mean so much to people devoting their lives to sketch comedy, and an Apple airport. I remember we didn’t have nice enough computers to use it, but I clutched it like the Holy Grail and felt the pride of a new father when I saw its shiny Wally-like dome. Silly things now, but things that are good feelings when I remember them. Shane and I couldn’t remember if other people helped us help Jason move and my first thought was “We could ask Jason, he’ll remember.”

But what I remember most about him was that he was there. He was beaming. His support was constant. His encouragement palpable without speaking. He made me laugh. He made me beam. He seemed to have high expectations and no judgment at the same time. He was stability for a thousand children who had only experienced pockets of it growing up. And his hugs squeezed you into portals to all of these things.

Friday, I wept when I found out, but only for a while. I was taking care of my Mama and she took care of me back by holding me while I cried. But I couldn’t really let go until I got home at night. As soon as I saw Shane, the wave of tears was done waiting. “Can we go to iO?” I needed to be there. To hold the walls, my friends, his friends. We didn’t know about the toast until after it had happened and thought we should go anyway. As we were leaving the house, I remembered, “The ocean, maybe we need to go to the ocean. Maybe afterwards…”

We barely walked through the door and face after face, that welcoming that he was to us, everyone was there with open arms. For each other, for him.

Thank you guys for being my ocean. My tears seem small next to the vast sea of love pouring out for our friend. Thank you Jason, for being you and being here for all of us. You still are. Here with this wide ocean of family you helped make. I haven’t seen you in six years, but I can feel your hugs.

Good Things

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This could also be called Temporary Pessimism: A Doorway to Reality & Growth or Complaining.

I was feeling very discouraged on Friday, June 6, 2014. I was confused about how to crawl out of the financial hole I’d created from being injured for many years and how to do that while simultaneously pursuing my acting career and still continuing to heal.

I needed to write a bio for the program of a small staged reading show we were doing at an old 1860’s opera house in Delaware. I wrote out a shiny-sounding paragraph of things I’d accomplished. I read it.

I hadn’t lied. They were all true things. But the words painted a picture so different than what my life has actually been. And wildly different than what I was currently feeling and going through.

I decided to write an All True bio. It was very cathartic to write: Continue reading “Good Things” →