When I woke up this morning, I felt worse than I did yesterday. Low energy, coughed up some junk. It wasn’t pretty. For a while, I actually thought about going to the doctor, but I’m kind of tired of doctors and all the drugs, so I ate breakfast and took a shower instead. Along the way, I decided to try sinus rinsing again (which I stopped a couple days ago), this time with a garlic infusion. I’ll explain. My chi kung teacher swears the best way to heal your sinuses is by putting a salad up your nose–well, by running sterilized, hot saline water over a clove of garlic, then using that water to rinse out your sinuses. The idea is that garlic is a natural antibiotic and anti-fungal, so no matter what’s causing the problem, it’ll get rid of it.

As a bonus, it’ll also keep vampires out of your nostrils.

Anyway, I tried the garlic-water-up-my-nose thing. Also, I added garlic to my diet because a stranger on the internet said to. Whatever, we’ll see how it goes. I will say that I’ve felt better this afternoon, and I even went for an almost-two-hour walk tonight, something I haven’t felt like doing for the last three weeks. Granted, I’m currently tired and holding my body upright with willpower and ambition, but aren’t we all?

I read recently that scientific studies have shown that vague prayers such as, “Thy will be done,” are more effective in healing than specific ones like, “God, heal Marcus’s sinuses,” or, “God, give Marcus the wisdom to stop putting vegetables and baby shampoo up his nose.” I guess the idea is that vague prayers show concern and compassion but drop any personal agenda that might presume to know what’s best for yourself or someone else. Anyway, I can’t remember the last time I asked someone to pray for me, but if you’d like to say, “Thy will be done” on my behalf, I’d appreciate it.

In other news, this is day two of clean eating. I promise not to become one of those people who post pictures of their organic lunches on the internet, but I am going to talk about them sometimes. (Like now.) Today I ate turkey and vegetables twice and salmon and canned peaches once. This is why I could never be a chief, since I thought that last meal was a good idea. But in my defense, it was easy, and–having done this before–pulling out the skillet three times a day gets old real fast. As I sit here now (sipping on peppermint tea with apple cider vinegar), I feel the same way about the diet as I do about the garlic water nasal rinse–hopeful that it will “work,” fearful that it won’t.

I guess whenever I start a diet like this, I’m always looking for a miracle. Once I ate clean for thirty days and lost sixteen pounds, but that’s never happened since. But it’d be nice if it would, and it’d also be nice if at the end of this month I could fit into all my clothes, my back didn’t hurt, and I had x-ray vision. Le sigh. Some things–most things–take more time than thirty days.

Unrealistic expectations aside, I do feel better when I eat well. If nothing else, I never feel stuffed and bloated. Tonight I met with my friend Bonnie to hang curtains. (She finally found some for our mutual friend. I’ll post pictures after the big reveal.) Anyway, she’s been eating “right” for the last month, and when I told her that after only two days of dieting I already felt like a skinny bitch, she said, “It’s kind of disappointing how good it feels to not eat junk.”

I mean, is she right, or is she right?

While walking tonight, I listened to part five (of seven) in a lecture on trauma and transformation. The speaker, James Finley, is a therapist and said that one of the benefits to a good therapist is that they put the client back in touch with themselves. Like, maybe you have a breakthrough or moment of compassion for yourself, and at first you give the credit to the therapist or even the office space, thinking someone or something else needs to be present in order for that good feeling to happen. But that breakthrough or compassion came from inside you, so it’s available all the time.

I’ve been thinking about this for the last few hours. I brag on my therapist a lot–she deserves it. I know she’s not a blood relative or even a traditional friend, but she treats me just as good if not better than anyone I’ve ever known–she never interrupts, she never tells me what to do, and she never judges me. In short, she respects me. Even when we disagree about something, we talk about it calmly, and she says our relationship can act as a model or ideal for other relationships in my life. Like, if I’m being bossed around or judged, that’s a clue that’s something is off. Anyway, I’m eternally grateful for all of this, but it occurred to me tonight that the way she treats me is the way I could treat myself–I could take that feeling of unconditional acceptance I have in her office with me when I walk out the door because I’m the one that’s feeling it.

To borrow a phrase from Bonnie, this means “giving my own self some damn grace,” not beating myself up for taking time to heal or starting a diet–again. Because that’s how it feels, like, I’ve tried all of this so many times before. But–for crying out loud–I’m just a human, and it’s our nature to struggle and try, to fall down and get back up again, to start over. I guess it’s also our nature to judge ourselves, to think we should be one way when we’re actually another. But I think that part can change, for surely if we can be patient with someone else (and all of us can), we can turn that love around to where it’s most needed.

Surely.