Ayurvedic Cleanse, Day 3: Down and Up and Down


So, I signed up for an audition at the BPT, because I love Marc and Kate, and I like black comedy and there were a couple parts in my age range.  I dragged myself off the floor on Friday, assisted a yoga class, and made it to the BPT to read the script.  Then, today, day of the audition, I got up and drank oil.  Then I felt sick.  Then I did work I had to do for Endicott rehearsal tonight.  Then I tried not to throw up.  Then I meditated.  Then I ate and my stomach blew up like a basketball.  All I could think about was whether I would ever take a shit again (sorry).  Then I took a shower.  Then I drank hot water and took some Triphala in the hopes of taking said shit.  Then I did 10 minutes of yoga.  Then I did my hair, make-up and clothes.  Two pairs of my pants are now tighter than I like, so I think I’ve gained weight on this cleanse in spite of all the hunger and suffering.  Then wished I hadn’t given up dyeing my hair so I could look younger.  I also began to wonder whether the pain and bloating would resolve itself before the audition.  I had the thought that with my luck, on this cleanse, it would all move, resolve, whatever, 2 minutes before I had to audition.

Which is exactly what happened.  I got to the BPT, sat down, and then had to run for the bathroom (or walk, acting all cool).  And get this, I was so relieved to be relieved that I didn’t care that I felt light-headed and out of it.  The world has narrowed considerably.

I came out of the bathroom at the BPT and after about 1 minute, the lovely and generous Kate Snodgrass called me in to the audition.  But, first she hugged me.  I’m pretty sure she was hoping I’d do well.  Meanwhile, I was wondering if she could smell the sesame oil from the self-massage last night.  I thought I might smell like Chinese takeout.

We went into the theatre.  I thought maybe I’d left myself in the bathroom.  The completely distant energy-less feeling of the cleanse made the whole thing seem like a vaguely bad dream.  Someone else’s bad dream, since I wasn’t quite there.  I read the side once.  The director very generously laughed on the laugh lines, even though I wasn’t funny.  Then Kate and I switched parts and she was really funny–just the right touch of bitter sarcasm.  I did better as the insane Christian, which is probably no surprise to anyone.  My energy was just about coming out of the bathroom and making its way down the hall to my body when the audition ended.

Oh, well.  All my auditions lately have been great, so I guess I was due.  And there is this–I am no longer 100% constipated.  But I will go lie down on the floor again.  Then I will consider entropy, and how it’s a new thing in my life.

I wonder if I will recognize myself when the cleanse is over.  Today Superwoman is in remission.  It’s all entropy here.  And lying on the floor.  And waiting for bodily functions to occur.  And wishing I’d gotten to audition sans cleanse, because the BPT is a great theatre doing important work and whoever did that audition was the Cleanse Queen of Entropy, a non-event all to herself.

So basically, the morning sucked.

After lying on the floor and talking to two friends to whom I can say anything at all (how rare and wonderful that is…though I wish they were local), I picked up enough to drive to Endicott College.  Traffic was horrible–I left at 5:45 and got there at 7:10.  Yuck.  But the guys!  This used to happen when I was teaching, after Don died, sometimes a class would pull my best out of me against all odds and these guys are like that.  They are so invested.  We did script analysis and their answers rocked my world–smart, insightful…they did my work for me.  Then we read the play again and a ton of notes I would have given weren’t needed.  Love, love and love again.  We started blocking.  It made me so happy.

I am now home, and my partner had set up abhyanga, the oil massage, so we could do it together as soon as I came in the door.  I tore off my clothes and went at the exfoliation, then got in the tub with her to do the oil down.  She finished first, and for some reason–mental absence, exhaustion–I put the glass bowl on my head like a hat because I couldn’t figure out what else to do with it.  It promptly slid off the oil slick called my hair and burst into a thousand pieces all over the tub and my feet.  Ouch!  Typing, I think I found another sliver in my thumb.

So, the oil down ended quickly for me, though my partner meditated naked for a while and is now in the shower.

A day.  In the life.  Of an insane person.

I am now admitting that I don’t like being on a cleanse.  I don’t like not being able to think clearly and being weak as a kitten.  But I love the men at Endicott, so that’s something.  They deserve better of me, to quote Reverend Alex, which is really quoting myself, since I created her.

I hope that this cleanse provides me with a new digestive system, because frankly, I deserve it.

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