Want to make God laugh? Tell him about your plans.

I am a professional singer, a singer who had and still hopefully has a full life of music ahead. I compiled this incredible cabaret show that did very well in San Francisco and it got me all the way to New York within a year. The show was called Bitter and Be Gay and it narrated my life as a bona fide Fag Hag living in the Castro district in San Francisco. I turned my struggles into humor with self deprecation that audiences could easily relate to, and I kept all hints of a therapy session out of the show. I chose clever songs to demonstrate my feelings and the show was a big success. I gained local news acclaim and even got a new friend out of the top publicist I hired. I worked hard and learned all about putting a show together, teaching myself to network, understand PR and advertisement, and the reviews and comments from audiences were my reward. My pessimistic attitude slowly started to melt away, and I began to really believe that nothing could stand in my way.
It was time; I packed my bags and went on Craigslist to find an apartment for a month. I was going to work with the top Cabaret connections in New York and polish my gem of a show and perform it out there. I couldn't wait. I had friends and acquaintances in New York who knew I was on the way. Reviews of my show had already arrived in New York before I had, and I couldn't wait to prove the reviews true to tougher, more experienced New York audiences. I got my apartment in a decent district and took off with my luggage not expecting anything but an amazing adventure and journey. Bitter and Be Gay was the first time I really believed in myself, and I was so happy with where my creation was taking me. I earned it and I enjoyed accepting the compliments and reviews that I got, because I deserved them. In my head, there was nothing that could stop me from experiencing the most incredible trip of my life.

The first day I arrived, I pulled up to my apartment where I would be taking a room of a girl who was off to Europe for a month. We were four flights up and there were no elevators. I didn't really think about the weight of the luggage, because I had to get my stuff up there, right? I began at the bottom with my large suitcase and when I got to the top, I was sweating but I knew I was tired from the flight. The next day I woke up with a sinus infection of doom and then...something else wasn't right. There was a painful, aching burning sensation in my chest. There was a pull in everything from my jaw to my neck, to the insides of my neck, and the muscles which I never learned about all around my clavicle, collarbone, sternum and shoulders. What was worse was that I couldn't sing. I could not get my voice out. It was there, but it wouldn't come out. It was like all of my placement and coordination was gone. My "how to sing" slate had been mysteriously wiped clean, and every muscle needed in order to sing had been pulled out and stretched. How had this happened? Aleve wouldn't help, and I didn't know what was going on. I frantically started looking online for a chiropractor...for someone who knew how to diagnose what was happening. First, I went to a recommended ENT who said that the sinus infection was bad, and that I had a deviated septum. My chords were fine and my voice was healthy. The sinus infection was gone withing 10 days, but my muscles still hurt so badly. There was actual burning going on where my pectorals were. The back muscles where my skull met my neck were so tender, it hurt to even rest my head on a pillow. I was alone in NY supposed to be having the best time ever, and it was gone.

I visited a chiropractor, Dr. Alex Einghorn who was a kind, respectful doctor. When he put his hands on my neck, tears nearly exploded from my eyes. I couldn't believe the pain I was feeling. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced. He told me that it was comparable to whiplash. He asked me what I was doing in New York. Through tears I explained that I was there to basically change my life. To live my dream that I DESERVED TO DREAM. He sadly smiled and said "You know how to make God laugh, right? Tell him about your plans." It all rang true, and I knew that I would have to cancel everything and brave it out for the next twenty nine days.
I knew that I couldn't explain what was happening since I didn't know myself. I put it together later that it was the lifting of the luggage that pulled everything out of its sockets, underneath my skin.

I could not stop crying when I was by myself. I would answer questions about my show like it was still going on, and swallow my tears and make it seem like I was having fun. I even attended a few sessions of preparation for my show because I thought that maybe in a few days I would get better. The pain just seemed to take up residence in my body and not go anywhere. After two weeks, I had to professionally back out of my project. I lied to my director-to-be and told her that my heart wasn't in the show and that I wasn't interested anymore in pursuing it. It was one of the worst moments in my life. I argued with myself that telling her I was sick wasn't an option. I also couldn't come to the conclusion of how to explain what was wrong with me, because not even the doctors I saw could give me a name of anything to call it. I was not sure if this would linger or leave, and I was terrified, and depressed, and I immediately fell into victim mode. Of course this would happen. Of course my show after all of this hard work and dedication would not be able to go forward. Of course this would happen to me. If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans.

There were nights that I would retire early, telling people I was tired when really I could barely keep my head up. Aleve wasn't working, and nothing else was working . I was stuck in New York and I had to make the best of it. I slowly said good-bye to my show... piled all of my scripts, headshots, press kits, reviews into my suitcase and shoved them under my bed. There I was, for three days straight, lying in bed watching Veronica Mars and Desperate Housewives, sobbing under the covers. Friends had shows at the Metropolitan Room, Feinstein's, Don't Tell Mama's and other venues and I went to all of them and could barely function. I had to perform for a friend's birthday and I felt like I was a zombie. I was paralyzed where I used to be most alive: the muscles in my throat, chest and jaw were screaming 24 hours a day. I was wishing that someone else could have my voice to make use of it, because my body wasn't healing at all within three weeks.

When I got home from New York I was making appts like a madwoman. I had let some close friends know what was going on, but still, my former director and her contacts had no idea what was happening. I really felt like either way I would be viewed as a flake. Either way, I was unreliable and had wasted their time. I did not know how to explain what was going on in my body. Three months later, to the day, I am still in a lot of pain and I am not through healing. This blog is to help those who may be experiencing similar pains and discouragement so that they know that they're not alone. When life makes you give up something you love or something you coveted so much, it can cause much pain, anger, resentment and the worst feelings; misunderstandings from others. The first thing one needs is emotional support and you find out through your own personal crisis who will be there and who will NOT be there to give it to you.

Please read on to learn more about the struggle of what has happened and the structure of coping I have yet to perfect.