Everyone Has Pus to Deal With (Blog #245)

Leave a comment

Currently it’s just after midnight, I’ve only been awake for ten hours, and I’m worn to a frazzle. I honestly haven’t done much–I went for a walk, attended improv class, bought groceries–but my energy level is squat. (Squat, I say.) Since I tend to obsess about my health, this only concerns me–a lot. Logically I can say that my body feels so much better than a week ago and that my cough has disappeared, so I must be getting better. But logic doesn’t do much good around here–in my brain, that is. All I can think of are the hundred and one reasons why something must be wrong. Maybe I’m not taking enough vitamins. Maybe I’m taking too many vitamins. (That could be it.) Maybe I’m pregnant–my sister says being pregnant can really drain a person.

Honestly, I want to slap myself. Get a grip, Marcus.

I’m not sure where I got the idea that I need to figure my body out. I mean, I think it’s a good idea to be educated about a few things, take a vitamin c every now and then. But in my experience, my body seems to be able to handle most problems on its own. I mean, for an entire year I ran around with little warts on my face, trying everything under the sun to get rid of them. (The internet said to try duct tape!) I think my dermatologist was half-convinced I had HIV because my immune system wasn’t recognizing the invaders on my pretty face. Well, I got tested and was negative. Then one day the warts just went away. Who knows what happened? Maybe my body was just waiting for me to quit trying so hard.

I can just hear it saying, “Would you stop looking over my shoulder and let me do my job, please?”

I guess I have a really hard time with that, letting go of control. I really think a rational human being would say, “Of course I’m tired–I’m healing–that takes energy. I know–here’s an idea–I’ll sleep more!” Like, it could be that simple. Instead I want to complicate things, spend an hour on the internet trying to diagnose myself. This, of course, is a terrible idea. Tonight in improv class I noticed my brain was offline. I felt kind of foggy and couldn’t think of a single funny or witty thing to say. (I still can’t.) Anyway, if you Google “tired, brain fog” and click on more than one article, you’ll walk away wondering how you’re even alive. It’s like I have to tell myself, Step away from the internet, Marcus.

Step away from the internet.

About ten years ago I saw an acupuncturist and Chinese medicine doctor who gave me a magic powder that was supposed to “lock in” health. “Take this on a day when you feel really great,” she said. Well, I never took it. Maybe I just have high standards, but I kept thinking, I could feel better. (I still think that.) So I guess if I weren’t worried about feeling tired, I’d be worried about my allergies, or my high cholesterol, or the fact that my ears crackle and pop sometimes, even though my ear, nose, and throat doctor said, “You’re normal. That’s the way God made you.” Quite frankly, that’s a hard pill for me to swallow, the idea that I’m normal and okay, that it’s normal to always have something going on because the body is forever adapting to an ever-changing environment.

I know we all worry about our health. Both my sister and my mother have been worried about their cholesterol lately. My mom is battling cancer. As of today, my dad is dealing with allergies or a cold, and he has a whole list of other problems as daily struggles–diabetes, high blood pressure, you name it. But if you were to ask him how he’s doing, he’d smile and say, “If I were any better, I’d be twins.” Then there’s his son, who takes to the internet each night to fret about being tired. Honestly, I’m not sure which is better–sweeping your problems under the rug or airing them out on the front porch. Once again, it’s probably a matter of balance.

I’ve been thinking a lot today about community, thinking I could use some more of it. I recently finished re-listening to a Caroline Myss lecture, and she said that the process of growth and self-empowerment first looks like separating from people (in order to find your inner strength), but later looks like reconnecting with them (because life isn’t just about you). Personally, I know I try to do a lot on my own–figure out my problems, whatever. I’m rather independent. And whereas that feels familiar to me, it’s also exhausting, and I’m starting to believe that’s because we’re simply not created that way. Rather, we’re tribal creatures–we’re meant to connect with each other.

This afternoon I ran into our next door neighbor Carree. She pulled up in her Hyundai as I was going for my walk, and since I have a Hyundai too, I couldn’t help but start a conversation about our vehicles. (Incidentally, we both love our Hyundais.) Anyway, we started talking about the blog, and things got real pretty quick. I said, “I’m not sure why I’m so dedicated to it, but I really believe it’s the most important and transformative thing I’ve ever done. Still, it’s hard, working through all your shit every day.” Carree said we all do what my dad does, put on a face and say we couldn’t be better. “But we all have things we’re working though,” she said. “We all have wounds that fester, pus that bubbles up. [Carree’s a nurse.] You either deal with it now or you deal with it later.”

Then she said, “If you ever want to talk, I’m right next door.”

Our burdens are lighter when we share them.

Personally, I don’t think it was an accident that I ran into Carree on the same day I was feeling a little isolated. (I mean, we never run into each other.) I guess it’s easy to assume everyone else has it together, to see your neighbors in their new cars or the celebrity on television and assume they don’t have any problems, that they never have days when every part of them feels like throwing in the towel. And yet everyone has something going on. Everyone worries, struggles, and falls apart at times. Everyone has pus to deal with. But I’m reminded that we truly are all in this together and that our burdens are lighter when we share them. What’s more, there are people out there who want to connect with us, people closer than we think.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

Sometimes you have to go back before you can go forward.

"

An Unbroken Chain (Blog #244)

Leave a comment

Currently it’s almost three in the morning, and I’d rather be reading. This afternoon I went for a walk, then started Turtles All the Way Down by John Green. It’s young adult fiction and just under three hundred pages, and I’m already two-thirds of the way through. Since I don’t get absolutely sucked into a book very often, I’d like nothing better than to curl up in this chair, immerse myself in story, and forget about the rest of the world until the last page has been turned. But, of course, I have this daily blog, so here I am–once again, world, it’s me–looking for meaning in the mundane, searching high and low for hope (come out, come out, wherever you are).

Honestly, I don’t know whose idea this was–trying to knock out a thousand-word blog every day for a year. A year–that’s been my goal for a while. I talked to my therapist about this recently and said that I didn’t know what I expected to happen after 365 days. Like, I don’t expect the sky to open up, for angels to descend with a bouquet of flowers, congratulations, and a check for a million dollars. Although that’d be nice–a parade would be nice. My therapist said, “Who knows? Once you hit a year, you may decide to keep going.”

Ugh, that sounds exhausting. But who knows?

Of course, writing every day for a year was my idea. But I don’t mind saying it’s not exactly easy pulling a thousand words and a life lesson out of my ass on days that, quite frankly, could easily be summed up like, “I went for a walk, I read a book.” Maybe another writer would make a day filled with those activities sound like a gripping adventure, but that’s not my style. Come on, waking up at three in the afternoon then taking a nap four hours later isn’t quite a-thrill-a-minute literature. And then I snored. And while I’m on the topic–why–why am I so tired anyway? I’m guess it could be the anti-histamine I took when I first woke up (which has been helpful), or maybe the fact that I was just sick for six weeks.

There’s an idea.

There’s nothing wrong with taking a damn nap.

I know that I have a tendency (just a teeny-weeny tendency) to underestimate what a big deal things are. Like, I think I can be sick for six weeks then reasonably expect my body to be able to run a marathon three days after it’s initiated recovery–instead of thinking, Wait a damn minute, my body has been through a lot lately. (And by lately I mean my entire life.) I don’t know if anyone else is like this, but I’m guessing I’m not alone here. We go, go, go and push, push, push then get frustrated when our bodies run out of gas. So I’m trying to remember–my body has been through a lot–I’ve been through a lot–there’s nothing wrong with taking a damn nap.

Another area where I tend to underestimate things is this blog. Like, most the time I don’t think it’s remarkable that I’ve sat down to write and lay myself bare on a daily basis for the last eight months. But today I heard a quote about forming habits by the philosopher and psychologist William James that said, “Never suffer an exception to occur till the new habit is securely rooted in your life,” and I realized that’s exactly what I’m doing here–not suffering one exception. Sick or well, tired or full of energy, I’m writing. I honestly don’t know why it’s so important to me, why I’m more committed to this than I have been to anything else in my entire life. I mean, I don’t even floss every day. But I do know that if I skip even one day of writing before I get to a year that I’ll lose a lot of respect for myself.

The flip side of this equation, of course, is that by writing every day I’m building self-respect. I wouldn’t for a minute pretend that every word or blog I write is parade-worthy, but each is a piece of this giant puzzle, so each is ultimately important and valuable. From my perspective, there’s not a single night’s work that I’m not proud of because each is a link in this (so far) unbroken chain. So to anyone, including myself, who’s consistent about anything, please know–it’s a big deal, it’s remarkable, and it’s okay to be your own parade.

Patting yourself on the back is better than beating yourself over the head.

I didn’t mean for this to turn into a pat-myself-on-the-back session, but I think it’s okay, especially considering all the years I’ve spent beating myself over the head. (Patting yourself on the back is better than beating yourself over the head.) I guess a lot of us beat ourselves up when we don’t have to. We make a big deal about what we can’t do and where we don’t measure up and refuse to acknowledge where we’re knocking it out of the damn park. Honestly–and I don’t mean for this to sound like whining–being human is hard. That’s just a fact. Our bodies and souls are under stress from day one, and it’s not like there’s a rule book that tells you what to do when the shit really hits the fan. As my friend Suzanne says, “Life is like getting pulled through a knothole backwards.” For these reasons, I really think anyone who bothers showing up on this planet is courageous, that it really is a big deal to go for a walk and keep putting one foot in front of the other, to do the best you can as one day links to the next like an unbroken chain.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

Our struggles unearth our strengths.

"

The Gifts You Give to Yourself (Blog #243)

Leave a comment

I feel like all I’ve talked about for the last six weeks has been my sinus infection and I’m really not sure what to discuss now that it’s gone. I mean, I’m still dealing with allergies–we could talk about that–but who isn’t dealing with allergies? Considering the fact that my health has come so so far in the last forty-eight hours, it seems like whining to even mention my red, watery eyes. Not that I’m above whining. (Did I mention my ears itch too?) Still, I’ve had plenty of energy today and am not coughing as much as before, so things are definitely on the upswing–or is it the downhill?

Either way, praise the lord (and bless my heart).

This afternoon I went to my aunt’s house to repair her Sleep Number mattress. Apparently, the air pump for the mattress has been working (inflating and deflating), but the display on the attached remote hasn’t been. Last week the company sent my aunt a whole new unit (pump and fancy wireless remote), and I guess they told her “anyone can install it” and “it’ll only take five minutes.” Perhaps you see where this is going. Y’all, it took closer to an hour, since I had to disassemble the entire mattress in order to detach the old pump hoses and attach the new ones. Honestly, this wasn’t a big deal, but the old pump had a total of four hoses (two for each side of the bed), and the new pump only had a total of two. Convinced I was looking at the wrong pump for the job, I called the company.

Well, the lady explained that the old pump was designed to inflate through one hose and deflate through the other, somewhat like a divided highway. But the new pump was designed to inflate and deflate through the same hose (talk about a traffic jam), so all I had to do was hook one hose to each side, then plug the two extra holes in the mattress with the end caps they sent in the box. “Oh, those end caps,” I said. The she said, “So yeah–don’t worry–one hose is all you need.”

All I could think was, Oh honey, if only that were true.

After that things were basically a breeze, although I did almost get stuck crawling under the bed to plug in the air pump. (Apparently I’m no longer the size of an eight-year-old child.) But everything else was fine, that is until I walked through the garage to get my toolbox out of my car and stepped on one of those glue trap used to catch mice. I thought, You’ve got to be kidding. Y’all, those things don’t come off easily, especially when you’re hopping around on one foot. I felt like I was in an episode of The Three Stooges. Later, when I finally got the glue pad pulled off, I texted my sister about it, and she said, “At least there wasn’t a dead mouse on it.” I replied, “No, just a cockroach–and my shoe.”

This evening I went to the library to read and spent half my time looking at new books to borrow. (I walked out with three I didn’t walk in with.) Considering I already have plenty of other books to read, I’m starting to see this behavior as a mild form of self-deception. Like, I’ll make time to read that. Or I guess it could simply be the thrill of acquiring something new. Yesterday, for Cyber Monday, I picked up a couple new books for my Kindle on Amazon. I only spent two dollars, but you’d have thought I’d won the lottery. (Two new books!) Whether I read them or not, it is fun having a collection. Granted, I have to return the library books, but at least they don’t cost anything.

The book I actually read tonight was the one I got last week about allergies and sinus problems. So far the author has listed plenty of good tips about air filtration, diet, and supplements, but tonight he also said that love is a healing power. To me this means that the body and immune system thrive in an environment of positive relationships, connectedness, and self-acceptance.

Along these lines, I’ve decided I’d like to reframe how I look at some of my “healthy behaviors.” For example, nine days ago I restarted my chi kung practice. Chi Kung is an ancient Chinese healing art, somewhat similar to tai chi. Well, whenever I restart my practice, it’s usually because there’s a problem (like a chronic sinus infection), and I’m wanting to do something–anything–to make that problem go away. But I realized tonight there’s a difference between doing something because I want a problem to go away and doing something because I want to feel as good as possible. Maybe either way I’m still doing chi kung, but when I focus on the problem, the practice seems aggressive, like me versus (the sick) me. But when I focus on wanting to feel good, the practice seems loving, like me supporting (the sick) me.

Honestly, I think I do a lot of things in the spirit of aggression. I’m not talking about fists-clenched aggression, I’m talking about subtle aggression that simple sounds like part of me needs to be different than it is–healthier, smarter, richer, more attractive. It’s as if one part of me is trying to change another. Of course, this is virtually impossible because, well, I’m one person. So tonight I started telling myself, I’m reading because I like to read and because I love myself. I’m doing chi kung because I love my body and want it to heal. I’m getting stuck under my aunt’s bed and stepping on a mouse trap because I love her. Honestly, I think these actions were loving before, I just wasn’t acknowledging them as such and giving credit where credit was due because I was too busy focusing on what was “wrong.” But I’m finding there’s relief in recognizing the gifts you give to yourself and others, a lot of “letting your guard down,” a lot of “not being so hard on yourself,” a lot of “isn’t it nice to be home again?”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

We follow the mystery, never knowing what’s next.

"

When You Feel Like Giving Up (Blog #242)

Leave a comment

After forty-three straight days of having a life-draining, soul-sucking sinus infection, today I’ve felt like a new man. Last night I rubbed kimchi juice in my nostrils, and I’m assuming that’s what’s done the trick. It’s gotta be that or the hundred and one vitamins I’m taking. Currently I’m still having some allergy issues, still coughing, but despite the fact that I didn’t sleep much last night, my energy today has been off the charts. I’ve spent the last six weeks absolutely wiped out, tired behind the eyes all day long, but today I was awake for ten hours before I even thought the word “tired,” and then it was while walking up a broken escalator. (Talk about a tease.) So things aren’t “perfect,” but the difference between yesterday and today has been astounding. More than the physical improvements, I’ve been happy all day, walking around with my chest stuck out like a damn superhero just because I’ve felt close to normal. Y’all, it’s not something to take for granted.

This afternoon I saw my therapist, and whereas I’d planned to talk about how I was tired of being strong, how being sick for six weeks had almost completely drained me of hope, I ended up talking about how I put fermented food up my nose and woke up twelve hours later with the energy of Rainbow Brite. My therapist said she didn’t think it was an accident that I’d been spending so much time searching the internet and finally came across something that worked. She said, “I think you needed a win, and the universe gave you one.” Then she added that when you feel like giving up, that’s when you have to keep going, since help is probably just around the corner.

Personally, I think this is a shit deal and don’t know why life is set up this way. Don’t get me wrong–I’m thrilled and grateful beyond measure for the bacterial miracle I’m currently experiencing. This could seriously be a game-changer. Still, I’d like go on record as saying that I think it sucks when the universe drops you to your knees then turns right around and asks you to push a little harder. Just keep going, help is right around the corner. Like, couldn’t help move half a block and make my life easier? Not that anybody in charge asked for my opinion. As Byron Katie says, “You don’t get a vote.” So I guess we’re back to that idea–acceptance. I could wake up tomorrow and feel like a million bucks or I could be sicker than ever. Either way, what am I gonna do about that?

After therapy I spent most of the day reading. Then I went to the mall and looked around because my therapist said–when we were talking about pride–that I should wear a shirt with a single gold star on it, the implication being that I’m a gold-star gay. (A gold-star gay is a homosexual who’s never slept with a woman, Mom. A double-gold or platinum-star gay is a homosexual who was born by c-section, thus making him someone who’s never (ever) touched a vagina.) Anyway, the only shirt I could find with a star on it was red with a yellow star. But since I’m wanting to look like a homosexual and not a hot dog, I didn’t buy it.

I’m sure there’s some joke that could be made about “wiener” at this point, but I’m too tired to think of it. Plus, my mom reads this.

Tonight I decided to back off some of the vitamins I’m taking. First, I didn’t sleep well last night, and that’s unusual. Along the same lines, I’ve felt rather “hyped up” today. Second, my stomach has been a skosh upset. Well, the problem is that I’m taking ten different vitamins, so it’s hard to know what’s causing what or if they’re even a factor in what’s going on. Still, I’m not usually one to sit still on such matters, so I Googled the side effects for every single one of the vitamins. And whereas practically all of them can cause an upset stomach, only one of them can cause insomnia (echinacea). So I cut out echinacea for this evening, as well as vitamin c, since I was hitting that pretty hard and it’s the most famous for causing stomach problems if you go overboard.

As always, figuring this out feels like trying to ski down a mountain backwards and blindfolded.

Suddenly the sun breaks through the clouds.

I guess we all do the best we can. As the old hymn says, “One day at a time, sweet Jesus.” But even though I’m not a hundred percent better, I’ve been thinking, Oh well, I’ll get over this soon enough. I mean, if a six-week sinus infection can start to turn itself around in less than a day, anything really is possible. My therapist and I talked about this today and how it could apply to other aspects of life–like, say, blogging for free when you don’t have a job–the idea that you can grind it out day after day, then suddenly the sun breaks through the clouds. A dove appears–the storm is over. This, I think, is really good news. My personal squabbles with how everything is set up notwithstanding, life obviously doesn’t intend for anyone to stay down forever. Just when you’re ready to let go of hope, hope refuses to let go of you. Gripping you tightly it says, “All I ask is one more day.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

The symbols that fascinate us are meant to transform us.

"

In Search of Flaxseed and Hope (Blog #241)

1 Comment

Last night I went to Walmart for a bag of flaxseed and honestly spent thirty minutes looking for it. Since I did three full laps up and down every aisle and still didn’t have a bag of flaxseed in my hands, I can only imagine I looked like someone who was there strictly for the exercise. Eventually I thought to use the Walmart phone app, which tells you what aisle items are on if they’re in stock. Well, of course it was in stock–on the nut aisle. I’d walked past it three times. Can we say, “not observant”?

So sue me–I never claimed to be Columbo.

On the way to checkout, I saw a sign in the women’s clothing department for a company called NOBO, which apparently stands for No Boundaries. I didn’t look at any of their products, but I can only assume they think having no boundaries is a good thing. Who knows–maybe they make stretch pants. (Their slogan could be, “There’s no place we won’t go.”) But all I could think was, This is a terrible name for a company. Boundaries are a good thing. Boundaries are the holy grail! (My therapist said so.) I actually thought about screaming this right there next to the panties, bras, and girdles, but decided to just blog about it instead.

Last night I started taking a hundred and one vitamins to help boost my immune system and (hopefully) get rid of my six-week sinus infection, and this afternoon I woke up feeling just as bad as ever. My friend Margo commented on Facebook that I needed to give the vitamins a chance, that my level of patience was obviously nonexistent. I don’t disagree with her assessment, but I just want to feel better–now. Honestly, I think it would do us all a world of good–I’m sick of blogging about this, and I can only imagine you’re sick of reading about it.

Tomorrow I have to get up early for therapy. Determined to get some rest, I told myself I was going to blog this afternoon and get it over with. Currently it’s 11:15 PM, so that obviously didn’t happen. Still, this start time is a lot better than my usual two in the morning. With any luck, I’ll be in bed in no time. But the point is I got distracted this afternoon because I started reading more about sinus infections on the internet. (Well, in people’s noses, but you understand.) Surprisingly, I found a website I’ve never heard of before, and it contained some information that may help me kick this thing in the butt.

The plot thickens. (Like my mucus.)

The website (and some others I found) basically said that many people who suffer from chronic sinus infections are missing a bacteria in their sinuses, specifically, L. sakei. It also said that the biome of bacteria in our sinuses is different from the one in our stomachs, so even if most probiotics included L. sakei (which they don’t), it wouldn’t help to take them. Rather, one needs to introduce the bacteria into their nose directly. Oh good, I thought, I have a finger. Now, where can I find this stuff?

As it turns out, L. sakei by itself is hard to come by, although it is used in meat-packing and sold by a company in New Zealand. However–and this is where it gets interesting–it’s often (but not always) found in kimchi, the Korean superfood that’s basically fermented cabbage. That’s right, people on the internet say you can actually heal a sinus infection by rubbing kimchi juice on the insides of your nostrils “like a really messy eater.” The idea is that once it’s in your nose, the new bacteria will grow, kill the bad bacteria, and give you your freaking life back.

Well I’ll try anything once. I mean, so far I’ve put baby shampoo and hydrogen peroxide up my nose–what’s a little food juice? Honestly, of all the things I’ve read on the internet about sinus infections, the idea that my body is missing an important bacteria makes the most sense. I’m not a scientist, but why else would my body have such a problem fighting this infection when everything else is working?

With this logic in mind, I set out this evening in search of any and all kimchi I could find. I quickly discovered that Walmart only carries one brand of kimchi, and since it wasn’t one of the ones listed on the website and I like to follow rules, I ended up going to three–three–Asian markets. Y’all, Asian markets are really fascinating. First, I felt super tall because the shelves were lower than what I’m used to. Second, I’ve never seen so much soy sauce in all my life. Lastly, there were dead fish up and down every aisle (basically just lying around like decoration), and since they had eyeballs, I felt extremely conspicuous. But I digress. I ended up with two different brands of kimchi. Neither of them were on the list either, and neither of them had a “manufactured on” date (which is good to know because L. sakei doesn’t show up in the fermentation process right away), but I decided I was doing the best I could.

So far I’ve rubbed the kimchi juice in my nostrils twice. Currently I’m still coughing and tired, but I’m not worn out like I was this afternoon. Maybe it’s the kimchi–maybe it’s the vitamins or simply taking a shower and getting out of the house–but I do think I feel better. At the very least I feel optimistic. I read a lot of stories this afternoon about people just like me who have suffered for a long time, and it’s reassuring to know that something eventually worked for them. As I think about it now, maybe I am like Columbo, doing all this detective work, digging around the internet in search of crazy solutions that, like the clothes at Walmart, have no boundaries. (Don’t throw those leftovers away, you can put them up your nose!) And whereas I’ll have to get back to you on whether or not I actually found a solution today, I can say that I found some hope, and that’s no small thing. So to anyone in search of flaxseed or hope–whatever you do–do stop looking until you find it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

Life doesn’t need us to boss it around.

"

My Fickle Mistress (Blog #240)

Leave a comment

This afternoon I went to a natural health food store in search of vitamins to heal my sinus infection and wanted to slit my wrists within two minutes of walking in the door. You know how employees try to be helpful. Well, the lady working the front desk started asking all these questions. What seems to be the problem? What’s wrong with you? So I told her about my sinus infection, and she was off and running, picking up bottles of anti-allergy pills and probiotics. “But we need to get to the root of the problem,” she said. “It’s probably your house. I had one lady whose house was filled with mold. Maybe that’s your problem–you’re house sick.”

“Well, I’ve lived in three different houses in the last year and have been sick in every one of them, so I don’t think that’s it.”

Then she started talking about the need for regular elimination. I thought, I swear, I just met this person, and she’s already talking about my bowel movements. “That’s not a problem,” I said. “I’m very regular.” Refusing to quit, she picked up a book about fasting that looked like it came over on the Mayflower. “I was just reading about what a miracle fasting is–it’ll even cure asthma.” I’m pretty sure I rolled my eyes. “That’s perfect–just don’t eat.”

“Exactly,” she said.

Well–thank god–another customer asked for her help, and that gave me a chance to breathe. Y’all, I hope I’m not coming across like a total ass, but I get so frustrated with “those people” who work at health food stores. I mean, not all of them, but you know the ones–the ones who walk around with their noses in the air because their underwear is made out of hemp and they haven’t eaten a donut since Carter was president. Like, this lady asked me about my diet and actually said, “You don’t eat dairy, DO YOU?” I mean, I’m all for cutting out certain foods to be healthier, and I’ll be the first to admit that I diet for vanity, but don’t act like you’re better than me because you don’t put milk in your organic coffee.

Since I actually showed up with a list of products suggested in the sinus book I’ve been reading, I looked around the store for a while. The main product I was looking for was a particular type of garlic, since garlic is supposed to be a natural antibiotic and anti-fungal. Well, the store didn’t have it. “But we have all these other types of garlic right over here,” the lady said. “I have one customer who swears by fenugreek and thyme. Now where did THAT bottle go? We must be out–I’ll call our supplier.”

“You don’t have to,” I said, “I’m not going to buy it. I’m really more interested in the garlic.”

She picked up the phone. “We’ll need some eventually.”

Frustrated on every level, I left the store. I guess part of it was that I’ve spent so much time and money in stores like that one over the years. Everyone promises their favorite product will help you, and when you’re sick, you’ll believe anything. Cod liver oil is different than snake oil, right? Oh, it’s not? That’s okay, you can still have my money. Sadly, most the things I’ve purchased haven’t made a dramatic difference. Y’all, I didn’t set out to be such a cynic. But–honestly–I’ve had dozens upon dozens of sinus infections over the last twenty years–I’ve been sick with this sinus infection for six weeks–don’t tell me I’d suddenly be better if I squirted grapefruit seed extract up my nose. (I’ve already tried that.) Also, the last thing I need is for a total stranger to judge me for going to a medical doctor by saying, “You took an antibiotic?!”

As if being sick were my fault because I did.

For a while I considered driving to Fayetteville to look for that specific brand of garlic, then I considered ditching the whole project and ordering everything online. But something said go to The Vitamin Shoppe, so that’s what I did. Y’all, it was perfect. The girl behind the counter said hello but didn’t once ask if she could help. Rather, she left me alone for an entire hour, during which I consulted the list on my phone, looked around the shelves, and decided what to do. During the process, I calmed down about the lady at the other place and decided I didn’t have to have that one brand of garlic. I thought, I’m just going to do the best I can. Besides, this isn’t magic–it’s magnesium.

When it was all said and done, I had eight bottles of stuff, give or take. Thankfully, except for the Vitamin C, it was all cheaper than I’d anticipated, and some of it was even on sale for Black Friday. Still, I was a bit overwhelmed by all the bottles (I’ve done it again–I’m one of those people), so I swung by Walmart on the way home to get a pill caddy to organize everything. (I also swung by my aunt’s to do some odd jobs and took the above photo with her dog, Nick.) Anyway, you know what kind of pill caddy I’m talking about–the color-coded kind for every day of the week, the kind both my parents have that I’ve previously looked down upon.

Well shit. Now I’m one of THOSE PEOPLE too.

When I got home I organized my pill caddy and watched The National Dog Show by Purina with my parents. (It’s a sexy life, but someone’s gotta live it.) As of ten minutes ago, I’ve taken two fists full of vitamins, and I’m currently convinced I wasted my money this afternoon. I don’t feel a bit better. I mean, I’m hopeful, but what if this doesn’t work either?

Bodies are fickle mistresses.

This morning my friend Elisabeth sent me a beautiful devotion about not beating yourself when you get sick. It quoted the writer Flannery O’Connor as referring to her battle with lupus as “one of God’s mercies.” To me this means that seen correctly, a challenge can be a great teacher. This afternoon my dad spoke with a long-lost family friend and found out he’d been paralyzed from the chest down. When it first happened our friend was bitter, but he told my dad that prayer had become really important to him. Now he says, “If I had to choose between prayer and having my legs back, I’d choose prayer.” So even as I get irritated with store clerks and swallowing fists full of vitamins, I’m trying to remember that we all have our difficulties and teachers. What’s more, I’m reminded that bodies are fickle mistresses–they give and they take away. But I do believe that some things are more faithful than that, or at least give more than a body every could.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

We can hang on and put everything safely in its place, and then at some point, we’re forced to let go.

"

The Headless Horseman and Dreams of Healing (Blog #239)

Leave a comment

After two days of feeling good about the world, I and my positive mental outlook took a nosedive today. Nosedive is an appropriate word, since my melancholy mood is directly related to my sinus infection, which apparently is not going away like I thought it was. I can breathe–that’s a good thing–but all day I’ve continued to cough, deal with drainage, and suffer from lethargy. I can’t tell you how frustrating this is. I’m literally punching the keys on my laptop as we speak, and I’m considering using a baseball bat to knock my own head off. Actually, I bet that’s what happened to the headless horseman–he probably had sinus infections for years, got sick of them one day, and decided to replace his face with a pumpkin.

No wonder he was angry.

The day itself has been delightful. I got plenty of rest last night, the weather has been gorgeous, and I got to go for a long walk. On top of those things, there’s still leftover pie in the refrigerator, so life isn’t all bad. I just keep wishing I had more energy, although I’m not exactly sure what I’d be doing with it if I had it. I mean, when I wasn’t walking or eating pie today, I was reading, which is probably what I would have done even if I’d felt like a million bucks. Flipping pages doesn’t exactly require a lot of stamina. Still, no one likes to feel as if they’re running on an empty tank of gas.

Putt, putt, putt–clunk.

Last week I had a dream that I was looking at my right hand as if it were under an x-ray machine. Inside my hand were loose bones–not like broken bones, but extra ones, kind of floating around. This is where the dream gets fuzzy, but I think it was like a game of Operation–I was trying to get everything in place. Anyway, today while I was walking, I listened to a lecture on Jungian dream interpretation by Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes, and she described dreams as “letters from home.” To me this means that dreams are messages from a deeper, wiser part of ourselves and are sent to us to help make us whole.

As for actual dream interpretation, the lecture said to start by writing down your dreams. Then it said to identify all the nouns, then write down what you associate with each noun. Finally, rewrite your dream, but put the associations in place of their respective nouns. For example, the nouns in my dream were my right hand (writer, getting things done, control), an x-ray machine (to look inside, see what’s really going on), and bones (structure, solid, strength). I’ll get to the interpretation later, but I believe this method is exactly how my therapist works with dreams. Of course, it’s always nice to have ideas reinforced and explained in different ways.

This evening I read some more in the book I started earlier this week about sinus problems. Honestly, I’m having to take it slow because it’s a lot of information, and–frankly–overwhelming. As the book suggests a holistic approach, there are a lot of recommendations, and it’s difficult for my inner rule follower to figure out which ones are “required.” Like, if the book lists six vitamins that are good for boosting the immune system, do I really have to go out and buy all six? Because I could easily overdo things and go broke super fast. Plus, I’ve been that person who’s had fifty bottles of vitamins and minerals before, and I hate being that person. I’m definitely willing to try again, but I’ve got to find a balance this time.

After reading the book, I went to Walgreens, Walmart, and CVS in search of a suggested herbal sinus rinse that’s been around for over a hundred years. (CVS had it.) So far I’ve tried it once and am equal parts hopeful and pessimistic. I told my mom that I feel like a sucker for trying everything under the sun, but that I have to try something because my antibiotic runs out tomorrow, and it obviously isn’t getting the job done anyway. (Sorry, cephalosporin, but you’re not.) “I don’t think you’re a sucker,” Mom said. “I just think you want to feel better.”

My god, do I ever.

Tonight I’ve been wondering if I have the strength to fight this sinus infection, to rally the troops and try something else–then something else if that doesn’t work. Part of me definitely thinks no–no I don’t. I’m worn out. But another part of me thinks yes. Already tonight I’ve been thinking about some of the book’s suggestions, and I’m considering holistic doctors I could work with so I don’t have to do this alone. Actually, I just took a break from blogging to look at options online. And whereas I normally feel as if I’ve exhausted all my options, it now seems as if there are a million things I haven’t tried. A day after Thanksgiving, I’m grateful for these options–overwhelmed, but grateful nonetheless. Surely something will work. I’m also grateful for what this infection has brought me–a better diet, a smaller waistline, a ton of new information, and plenty of compassion for anyone with a chronic problem.

So, thank you, sinus infection–you may go now.

As I finished my walk tonight, I watched the sunset and thought about the meaning of the dream I had. Personally, I think the image of the x-ray of my right hand is fascinating–the way it had to do with looking inside myself to see what’s really going on in terms of writing, getting things done, and being in control. The fact that there weren’t any broken bones, obviously, was a good thing. Rather, there were new bones, new growth. This tells me that I have more structure and strength than I realize and that things are coming into place. So I’m reminding myself that if there’s a wisdom that makes the sun set and sends me dreams to help make me whole, then surely that wisdom can guide me toward healing and provide the strength I’m not always sure I have to get there.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

if you're content with yourself and you're always with yourself, then what's the problem?

"

I Can Still Taste the Deviled Eggs (Blog #238)

1 Comment

It’s nice living back home for the holidays. Today is Thanksgiving, and this morning I could hear my parents up and about before I got out of bed. Having not quite figured out the power of technology, Dad was yelling into the phone as if it were a tin can with a string attached to the bottom. Mom was running up and down the hallway. Ten minutes after my alarm had gone off, she knocked on my door–time to get up. If it’d been any other day, I would have headed straight for the kitchen. Instead I took a shower and put on some clean clothes, intentionally starving myself in preparation for The Big Meal.

When I was a kid we used to pile in the car and spend Thanksgiving at Grandma and Grandpa’s. The adults would sit at one table, the kids would sit at another, and I can still taste the deviled eggs. Grandpa always made oyster dressing, Grandma made a mean pumpkin pie, and at least once it was all served up on paper plates with plastic forks. It made for easy cleanup, of course, but it was anything but fancy. If only I’d come out sooner, I could have insisted on china and proper flatware.

In the grand scheme of things, it’s a small regret.

I do think there’s something magical about the holidays, and I don’t just mean the deals on Black Friday. I think there’s literally something in the air. Even if there’s family drama, families get together and people try. Sometimes they fail miserably, of course, but at the very least, they eat together. More often than not, everyone is on their best behavior, the food is delicious, and no one’s in a hurry to leave. This is the magic I’m talking about–it’s like time slows down. Cars linger in the driveway, eating gets stretched out for hours, fathers fall asleep on couches.

This year my family opted for eating out, which–if you think about it–is a convenient way to celebrate the pilgrims without having having to clean the oven. Anyway, we piled as many people as we could into my car, Tom Collins, and pulled into the parking lot of Furr’s Fresh Buffet in Fort Smith at 2:23 PM. Y’all, there were so many people there was a line out the double doors. It took fifteen minutes just to make it inside, and then the lady behind the cash register said, “I’m going to need you to stand against the wall while you wait.” It was like she was herding cattle. I could have sworn I was at the state fair. The only thing missing was a sign that said, “Must be this tall to ride” in front of the salad bar.

It took a while, but our party of eight eventually got seated together. One by one we took to the crowded buffet lines, filling our plates with turkey, corn on the cob, and mashed potatoes, all warmed by high-powered heat lamps. Back at the table, my Aunt Tudie had a plate full of stuffing. My dad (her brother) said, “Why did you put ranch dressing on that?”

“Well shit,” she said, “I thought it was gravy.”

For over an hour we ate and visited, ate and visited. Our drink waiter–a guy–kept calling the women at our table “honey,” so I made the assumption that he was gay. Not really something you hear many straight men say in the south. (Right, sugar?) Anyway, I did a lot of people watching. Just in the time we were at the restaurant, there must have been hundreds of customers come and go. It was like every person in the tri-state area had come out for the mediocre pumpkin pie and endless refills of soft-serve ice cream. I kept thinking, Was NO ONE here willing to cook?

My Aunt Carla (my dad’s other sister) said, “I just want to know what I have to do to get on your blog.”

“Just take a selfie with me,” I said. “It’s really that simple.”

After The Big Meal, everyone else went their separate ways, and Mom, Dad, Aunt Tudie, and I came back to our house for coffee and pie. Y’all, this was the first dessert I’ve had in three weeks–so good. My insulin didn’t know what to do. Anyway, for a couple hours, Dad and Aunt Tudie talked, Mom surfed the internet, and I read a book in the oversized chair I’m about to pass out in now. (It’s four in the morning.) Then my aunt went home, and Mom and Dad and I binge-watched recorded episodes of Will and Grace for over two hours. Considering we’re all pretty much retired, this is something we could technically have done any day of the year. Still, since we did it on Thanksgiving, it felt special.

It’s not where you are, it’s whom you are there with.

Again, this is the magic I’m talking about, the way we slow down and spend time with each other. All my grandparents are gone now, and it’s funny–sometimes I don’t remember what their voices sounded like. But I remember Grandpa called everyone “children,” and Grandma kept her teeth on the bathroom counter just as much as she kept them in her mouth. Honestly, it doesn’t matter to me what kind of plates we ate on back then. Twenty years from now I won’t care whether we ate at home or went to a buffet this afternoon. I didn’t care this afternoon–we were together. What’s important is not where you are, but whom you are there with. This is what makes some days more special than others, the thing that makes time slow down, the thing that makes the taste of deviled eggs stay with you.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

if you're content with yourself and you're always with yourself, then what's the problem?

"

 

Coming Out of the Desert (Blog #237)

Leave a comment

Last night I went grocery shopping at Walmart, and there were so many people, I wanted to throw my bag of organic lemons at everyone who crossed my path. On the canned fruit aisle, I did my best to be patient as a little old lady argued with her granddaughter about whether to put oranges or pineapples in the fruit salad. Oh my god, I thought, would you please make a decision? You’re blocking the sliced pears! Well, next thing I knew, the lady started talking to me–“You’re here for a reason!”

You’re damn right I am, I thought as I smiled, and it’s on the other side of your cart.

But then she said, “Would you be so kind as to reach up on that top shelf and hand me a jar of cherries?”

Well I felt like an ass. “I’d be glad to.”

“Happy Thanksgiving!” she said as she headed down the aisle.

I reached for the sliced pears. “Happy Thanksgiving!”

At the risk of being presumptuous, I think my sinus infection is getting better. Last night I started a new YouTube home remedy (I’ll spare you the details), and whether it’s that or the antibiotics kicking in, I’ve been breathing better and coughing less all day. Plus, I’ve had more energy and felt like drinking coffee (that’s usually a good sign). More than anything, I’ve actually had positive thoughts today. Life isn’t so bad. My body can get over this. There’s still time to meet Zac Efron. This, of course, is a big improvement over all the moaning, groaning, ain’t-it-awful thoughts that have been hanging around the stage door of my mind for quite a while now. I mean, this evening I went back to Walmart to pick up a couple things I forgot last night, and despite the fact that the whole town of Plymouth Rock was there, I didn’t want to throw fruit at a single person.

Talk about a holiday miracle.

This afternoon I spent some time reading at Sweet Bay Coffee Shop. At one point an elderly man wearing a Korean War ball cap came over and said, “Excuse me. I couldn’t help but notice that you’re reading. I think that’s great! You never see young people reading anymore.” So we had a nice chat about books versus the internet, but the whole time all I could think was, Oh my god, he thinks I’m young!

And I don’t even moisturize.

Another thing I did this afternoon was go the library. Y’all, I’ve said it before, but did you know those books are FREE? Seriously, what a great place. Anyway, I picked up a book by Robert S. Ivker called Sinus Survival: The Holistic Medical Treatment for Allergies, Asthma, Bronchitis, Colds, and Sinusitis. I saw a copy of it in a bookstore last week, and it was mentioned in the YouTube video I watched last night, so I figured I needed to read it. Apparently the author is a doctor who used to have chronic sinus infections but successfully healed himself and has since helped thousands of his patients do the same. As of now I’m fifty pages into the book, and I’ve already learned more about sinus infections than I have from twenty years of having them. So we’ll see how it goes.

But I’m hopeful, and that’s a start.

I think what’s comforting about a book like this is knowing that I’m not alone. The author says that sinus infections are actually one of the top health problems in the world and qualify as an epidemic. He tells the story of one lady who had fourteen sinus surgeries before she came to his clinic. I mean, I’ve had a lot of problems over the years, but I can’t even imagine. Anyway, regardless of what happens in the future, it’s nice to realize that the universe hasn’t been singling me out all these years. We all have our challenges.

Tomorrow marks forty days of my being sick, so I’m choosing to look at it symbolically, as if it were the forty days Jesus spent in the wilderness or the forty years God’s children spent in the desert. (Seriously, who gave Moses the map?) This number, of course, more than being literal, symbolizes a period of testing or tribulation. I suppose all sorts of good things can come out of difficult times like these–patience, inner strength, and compassion, to name a few. Who knows what something is ultimately for? I mean, I thought I went to Walmart last night for sliced pears, but that little old lady thought I was there to help her with a jar of cherries. And who’s to say I wasn’t? Likewise, who’s to say the guy who wrote the book I’m reading wasn’t sick so he could help others? Perhaps that’s the case with me. At the very least, this problem has brought me closer to myself, and that’s certainly enough.

If life can create a problem, it can also provide an answer.

But what I’m currently most thankful for is the idea that our times of tribulation eventually come to an end. That’s what I’m starting to believe–that’s the hope I talked about last night and mentioned earlier. For years I’ve run around to medical and naturopathic doctors, health food stores, and spiritual retreats trying to heal my sinuses and “get better.” The surgery earlier this year was a huge improvement, but over and over again it’s felt like everything was hopeless and nothing would work. But I really am coming around to the idea that if life can create a problem, it can also provide an answer, that we’re not meant to suffer forever. For surely the wilderness was meant for crossing, just as the desert was meant for coming out of.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

Sometimes the best you can do is metaphorically sit you ego down, look it square in the eye, and say, “Would you shut the fuck up already?”

"

That Which Is Scary (Blog #236)

Leave a comment

Currently it’s two in the morning, and Mom and Dad are in bed. The house is quiet, I’m at the kitchen table, and the most interesting thing I can find to talk about is the plant sitting next to me–the one my therapist told me to buy a couple months ago. Recently a new stem appeared. It’s tiny, but it’s taller than the others. The way its leaves are folded back, it reminds me of a rocket ship. To me it looks full of potential, and I wonder what will become of that new stem, haw far its leaves will spread out one day. And where did it even come from? I swear it wasn’t there five days ago. Honest to god, it’s like I’m sitting next to a miracle.

Today has been all over the place. I’m coughing less than yesterday, but I still feel like crap. There’s just no better way to say it. I know I was pretty pessimistic in yesterday’s blog, and some of that bad attitude leaked into today. Objectively I know that life will improve and everything isn’t all bad, but it certainly hasn’t felt that way. I’ve talked to my therapist about this before, and she says, “When you’re off in the body, you’re off in the mind.” To me this means I simply don’t have access to my best thinking when I’ve been sick for five weeks straight. So for now I’m trying to hang in there, to trust that things will look different after the storm has passed.

Since yesterday I wasn’t even trying, I consider this a big improvement.

I honestly am rather disgusted by the fact that one sinus infection has taken up so much space on this blog. I wish I had something else to talk about. That being said, I told a friend earlier tonight that sinus infections have been my constant teacher over the years, and this one has been no exception. Just when I think I’m trusting, patient, optimistic, and kind, all I need is a good sinus infection to bring me back to reality. But on a deeper level, being sick like this brings up all my emotional shit–all the icky feelings like “not good enough” and “despair” that have been making themselves at home and putting their feet on my table for decades.

You know how feelings can take over, like they own the damn place.

In terms of not feeling good enough, I imagine we all feel this way at times. After all, advertisers don’t exactly entice us to buy their products by suggesting we’re perfect the way we are. But I think the button that gets hit for me is deeper and goes back to having to grow up so fast when my dad went to prison. At the time I didn’t think it was a big deal to take over the house and keep going to school, even to stop going to church and stop eating pork when my family changed our religious beliefs. But I can see now that all of that was a huge deal. I did the best I could, but I really wasn’t up to the task emotionally. Not only was I in over my head, but I was also isolated because we’d made ourselves so different from everybody else.

Twenty years later, it still feels like I’m not up to the task. Well-meaning people make suggestions (Have you tried a Neti Pot?), and it feels like an accusation, something I’m not doing right. But earlier I was thinking about how I’d respond if a fifteen-year-old I knew were going through what I went through at that age–what I might say if he were giving himself a hard time–and my heart absolutely melted. So I’m trying to extend the compassion I’d feel for anybody else to myself, to realize that I’m doing best I can (damn it) and always have been.

In terms of feeling despair, this is something I’m just starting to unpack. It’s something my therapist and I have been talking about lately but that I haven’t discussed here because it feels so raw. But a few weeks ago I was talking about several things that happened–or rather, didn’t happen–when I was a teenager. These were things I got my hopes up about, like Dad being found innocent or, when he wasn’t, being let out of prison early. Anyway, I was telling my therapist that I often feel powerless, like there’s nothing I can do to make a situation better, and all of a sudden she got quiet. (She never gets quiet.) Then she said, “I just realized something that affects and changes everything else we’ve been talking about.”

“What?” I said.

“Hope is scary for you.”

Honestly, I haven’t exactly known what to do with this information, which, by the way, is correct. Brene Brown says that hope is information, and my therapist says I’ve been let down so many times over the years that I simply haven’t had the right data. Consequently, I’ve spent a lot of time reading about people who achieve their dreams or who overcome chronic health problems, but there’s always a part of me that doesn’t quite believe those things are possible. Well, maybe they’re possible for someone else, but not for me. “It’s too bad,” my therapist says, “since life is actually set up for you to succeed.”

Again, if some teenager in my improv class told me he was afraid to hope, I’d melt with compassion. If someone told me they were going through a storm, I’d say, “You’re going to make it. Things will look different when it’s over, but mostly because you’ll be different–stronger than you were before.” So I’m trying to take it easy on myself, to take both this sinus infection and my life one day at a time and not assume the worst. Things can get better–they’re already better than they used to be. Looking at the plant beside me, I’m reminded that I, too, am full of potential, capable of new growth at anytime. For surely if a plant is a miracle, then I am one too, ever ready to let go of that which is behind, turn my face toward the light, and hope again.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

Ultimately, we all have to get our validation from inside, not outside, ourselves.

"