A Magical Moment (Blog #396)

Currently it’s eleven at night, and I feel like a field of wildflowers is blooming inside my sinuses. Y’all, I know that I bitched about how terrible winter was, about how I “couldn’t wait” for spring to arrive, but this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. My allergies are taking over. It’s like a pipe full of mucus has burst inside my head. Last night while trying to sleep, I could actually feel snot sloshing from one side to the other whenever I turned my face on the pillow. I just now sneezed inside my shirt. It’s not sexy. I swear, the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced spring is like a twink (a hot, young, often shallow gay boy, Mom)–nice enough to look at, but certainly not something you could stand waking up to every day for the rest of your life.

Come on, summer.

A few days ago I bought a ticket to see Del Shores perform in Little Rock. If you don’t know, Del Shores is the writer who created the LGBT cult classic movie, Sordid Lives, which is about a highly religious, highly addicted, highly fucked-up southern family in small-town Texas. It’s absolutely delicious. If you’re at all twisted and enjoy strange characters and colorful language, I highly recommend watching it, either the movie or the later-made television series starring Rue McClanahan, Caroline Rhea, Leslie Jordan, and Olivia Newton-John. (Leslie and Olivia were also in the movie.) I first saw the series several years ago and still love to quote it with friends.

Here’s the trailer for Sordid Lives, the series. If you watch it, keep in mind Del’s philosophy–“If I’m not offending someone, I’m not doing my job.”

Anyway, it’s been a while since I’ve taken myself on an artist’s date or done anything by myself for creative inspiration, so I thought seeing Del perform his new one-man show, Six Characters in Search of a Play, would be the perfect thing. But when my allergies kicked in yesterday afternoon, I almost regretted my decision. I’d just driven to Tulsa and back the night before and thought, This is a lot of driving, and I could sure use a nap. But I had my money tied up in the show, so after writing yesterday’s blog, I loaded up my car, Tom Collins, with some snacks and hit the road. And whereas it took a little longer than my GPS predicted to get to The Weekend Theater in Little Rock, I arrived just after the doors opened with plenty of time to get my general-admission ticket and snag a seat on the front row.

Front row, bitches!

As it turns out, the play was eighty-five minutes long (with no intermission), and loosely told the story of Del’s life, including his growing up as a closeted Southern Baptist. In reference to the fact this his father was a preacher and his mother was a high school drama teacher, Del said, “I’m REALLY fucked up.” Y’all, I was sucked into the play immediately and laughed from start to finish. I even cried. During the play Del took on multiple roles that included five southern women and one latent homosexual redneck, masterfully switching between himself and each of his characters, the whole time telling the story of his often unbelievable and frequently broken life.

A difficult life can be turned around.

This was such a delectable treat for me, seeing a successful gay, southern writer who has taken his personal tragedies and challenges and turned them into something beautiful for the world to see. During the play, he described it like this–“All that damage gave me a career.” Isn’t that a great perspective? I can’t tell you what hope this gives me, the idea that a difficult life can be turned around into one that you want. Plus, I love the way writers see things, the way they describe the world around them. At one point Del said a waitress who was a size 18 “lived with hope in her heart,” since she squeezed herself into a size 12. Later he said one of his relatives had a “lived-in” face. I learned so much just by noticing what Del noticed, how to take a little thing and turn it into something bigger and more memorable.

When the play was over, I hung around to meet Del and tell him how much I appreciated his work. Y’all, he was so kind. Even before I officially introduced myself, he said I was “a great audience member,” laughing and applauding at all the appropriate places. Of course, my inner teacher’s pet just soared. But get this shit. During my conversation with Del, I asked him what the “all that damage gave me a career” line was because I couldn’t remember it and thought it was so stunning. And just like that, he said, “I have a copy of the script you can have if you’d like it.”

“Oh my god, I’d love it,” I said.

So Del walked back into the theater, and two minutes later gave me an autographed copy of last night’s show–all twenty pages and eighty-five minutes worth of material on paper. He signed it, “Marcus–Thanks for coming and keep writing–Del Shores.” For me, this was like being given the Holy Grail, or at least the Homo Grail. I felt like I’d just won the lottery. Y’all, inside I was screaming like a junior high cheerleader and wanted to fangirl all over Del, but outside I was my typical monotone self as I said, “Thank you, I’ll keep it forever.” Later I thought, God, Marcus, you could show a LITTLE emotion. Like, surely there’s a middle ground between deadpan gratitude and bursting out into, “I’ve Got a Golden Ticket.”

I’ll work on that.

But seriously, I can’t wait to read Del’s autographed script. A year and a half ago I sold most of my worldly possessions and now live basically as a minimalist. Consequently, “stuff,” doesn’t mean much to me anymore. But earlier today I actually considered getting a safety deposit box just to put the script in it.

Disney World and Disneyland have a customer-service-related practice called Magical Moments. Magical Moments are the unexpected “extras” that cast members (employees) often give guests–a free refill for a child’s spilled drink, a free pass to the front of a long line. As I understand it, Magical Moments aren’t something you can ask for, they’re just given to you for no apparent reason. This last year has been the most difficult year of my life. Currently I don’t have a steady job and am laid up in bed at my parents’ house blowing snot into the inside of my Fruit of the Loom t-shirt. But this is the way I’m choosing to look at life and especially last night–magical–a place where the wonderful and encouraging can suddenly bloom alongside the challenging and perhaps because of it, a world where even the most difficult of circumstances can be used as compost for something new, bright, and beautiful.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Authenticity is worth all the hard work. Being real is its own reward."

Create, Adjust, and Maneuver (Blog #395)

Last night was one of the best night’s I’ve had in a while. Our improv group, The Razorlaughs, performed in Tulsa at a venue called The Rabbit Hole. A few of our regular members were unable to attend, so at first it was just going to be my friend Aaron and me. (I realize that, grammatically, that should be Aaron and I, Mom.) But at the last-minute our friend Victoria jumped in, and y’all, last night was her first improv show ever, but she did great! We had a small audience, a baker’s dozen, but all of them were into the show, and most of them participated. As a performer, this makes all the difference, performing for people who want to be performed to.

In the above photo, we are making a nod to one of our improv games–Stand, Sit, Kneel–where someone always has to be standing, sitting, or kneeling. (Therefore, if one person changes their position, the others have to also.) In the picture below, Aaron and I were playing a game called Pillars with two audience members, who had to “fill in the blanks” or give us suggestions at random times during the game.

One of the highlights of last night’s show was that my friend Kara, whom I went to high school with, came to watch. She even got up on stage. (She also took the above photos.) When we graduated, Kara was the valedictorian of our class, and I was the salutatorian, so I couldn’t help but notice how well she did with The Alphabet Game, where players have a conversation in which the first sentence starts with A, the next with B, and so on. When it came to the letter X and it was Kara’s turn to speak, she said, “Xerxes (pronounced Zerksies) only knows. (Pause.) It starts with an X, I promise.” So this morning I texted Kara, referenced this moment on stage, and said, “#ThingsOnlyValedictoriansSay.”

Last week at therapy I told my therapist that I was doing the Autoimmune Paleo (AIP) diet, which basically means eating nothing enjoyable–wheat, dairy, tomatoes, legumes, eggs, nuts, or alcohol. Later she told me, “Go easy on yourself. It’s okay to modify. If you want to eat some nuts, eat some frickin’ nuts.” So last night after the show I took her advice to heart. Aaron, Victoria, Kara, and I met at Kilkenny’s, a cool Irish pub, and whereas I stuck to AIP for my meal, I decided to have a drink. I told myself, “It’s okay to modify, Marcus. If you want to have some vodka, have some vodka.”

When our group wrapped up for the evening and said our goodbyes, I walked around the corner at Kilkenny’s and ran into my swing dancing friends Gregg and Rita, who had come by for a bite after last night’s celebratory swing dance. (Yesterday was International Dance Day). Y’all, it was the perfect little unexpected reunion. They were with their son and some of his friends, and everyone was so kind. We sat for a couple of hours and just caught up, talking about dance, work, family, earrings–you name it.

It was a wonderful night.

This is what I want for my life.

Now it’s two in the afternoon, and I’m back in Arkansas. When I first woke up this morning, I thought I was going to be sick because my sinuses were running. Maybe it’s just allergies, I thought. Still, I took some probiotics that usually help my sinuses, lay back down for a nap, and have been hitting the water pretty hard since I woke back up. (Water covers a multitude of sins.) I just had breakfast, and I need to get on the road again in an hour and a half, since I’m seeing a show in Little Rock tonight. I don’t have a “deep thought” for the day, but I do wish you could see an improv show–the way the people on stage have NO idea what’s about to happen, but are still able to create, adjust, and maneuver their way into something fun. More and more, this is what I want for my life, to be able to rise to any occasion, to take what life gives me, roll with it, and enjoy.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"When you’re authentic, your authenticity is enough. You don’t need to compare."

Something Sweet Indeed (Blog #394)

This morning I woke up at eight and couldn’t go back to sleep because I was worrying–well, thinking intently–about my bank deposit that magically disappeared yesterday. I spoke with customer service last night, but my plan today was to show up to the branch where I made the night drop and, if necessary, raise hell. You know, flip tables, use words like “preposterous” and “unacceptable,” ask, “Just what kind of institution are you running here–losing people’s hard-earned money?” I actually envisioned this scene unfolding as I lay in bed this morning, all the tellers standing around stunned and apologetic as I’m threatening to “take my money elsewhere.” Then, after a moment of appropriate silence, the manager would grovel–

“Would you like that in nickels or quarters, Mr. Coker?”

Fortunately, this didn’t have to happen in reality, since just before I crawled out of bed at nine, I checked my account online one final time. A friend had messaged during the night and told me that their deposits had frequently gotten “stuck” in the night drop, so I thought, Maybe the bank will find it first thing this morning. And y’all, just like that, after all my worrying and convincing myself that the universe hated me, the money was there. Phew, that was close. Another crisis averted.

I guess you’re okay, universe. But let’s not make a habit of this behavior.

In addition to (apparently) needing time to worry about nothing, I got up early this morning to attend a three-year-old’s birthday party. When I asked his parents, my friends Aaron and Kate, why they were having a birthday party at ten in the freaking morning, Aaron said in complete seriousness, “All of his friends have naps later in the day.”

You should have heard him wail.

The party itself was great. It was outside at a local park, and the weather was glorious. (It’s beautiful today.) And whereas I’d planned on not eating anything at the party and generally feeling sorry for myself for being on a restrictive diet (Autoimmune Paleo), that didn’t happen either–there were plenty of fruits and vegetables for me to snack on. (Once again, life doesn’t totally blow.) However, there was one problem at the party. Aaron and Kate’s kid had a TOTAL meltdown, all due to the fact that his cake looked like a puppy dog and he didn’t think it was at all cute when his mother put a carving knife through the little doggie’s face. You should have heard him wail as Kate sliced that little sugary pooch into several (what I’m assuming were delicious) pieces. “No, Mama, no!” he cried.

“It’s okay, baby,” Kate soothed him. (Slice, slice.) “It’s not real.”

Eventually, Aaron and Kate’s boy calmed down. I think he got distracted by a football. Later when I was talking to Kate, she said, “He was up late last night.” I replied, “See, this just goes to prove my theory–nothing good happens before noon.”

When the party ended, I spent part of the afternoon overanalyzing the situation (like I do). Y’all, nobody knows what to do when a child cries. Hell, when anyone cries. For example, the whole time this adorable child was bawling and squalling, most the adults were laughing, like, “Isn’t that precious? He thinks it’s a real puppy dog. (Nom, nom, nom.)” Not that I knew what to do, but I did remember a time when I was little that something similar happened. I was maybe six or seven, and the family had gathered at the dinner table to eat cornish hens. Baby hens! Well, I was undone. I couldn’t imagine such a thing–eating an adolescent bird.

I left the table crying.

When you believe something, you’re locked in.

My family and I joke about this story even now, but y’all, I can still remember what it felt like to believe that we were EATING something that I thought should be my little feathery friend. (It didn’t feel good.) And if Aaron and Kate’s boy this morning felt even part of what I felt all those decades ago, then it’s no wonder he went from demure to Defcon 1 in 3.2 seconds. I mean, when you BELIEVE something, you’re locked in. (My puppy friend is being cut up and devoured!) For you, the world is falling apart, and it doesn’t matter what anyone else says or does. As Byron Katie says, “That’s the power of imagination.”

Thirty years after the cornish hen incident (or, “the cornish hencident”), I guess I still get caught up in imagination. Last night I was convinced that the money I deposited in the bank had been lost, that my world was falling apart. This morning I was sure I needed to have a confrontation, that my oratory skills and powers of vocal projection would be best used by me walking into a local bank and proceeding to flip my shit. And sure, I assume several people who read about this predicament last night thought, It’ll be fine, Marcus. There’s nothing to worry about. Maybe they even laughed, just like part of me did, the part that “knows better.” I look at what happened now and think, That’s the universe for you, once again proving to me that it’s not such a bad place to live, that things really do work out. And yet for a while most of me was caught up in a dream. Not unlike my young friend this morning with his birthday cake, I was looking at something intended by life as a gift and innocently terrifying myself instead of seeing it for what it was–something sweet indeed.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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When we expect great things, we see great things.

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On Waiting for Answers (Blog #393)

Currently I’m cranky and have a headache. (Let’s see if I can work myself into a better mood.) I woke up this morning with a skin relapse–a sudden flare-up where no one wants a flare-up–maybe due to a different bath soap or a new body odor powder, both of which I used yesterday. Regardless, the flare-up wasn’t fun. Since apparently I’m so sensitive, this afternoon I went to Walmart and bought sensitive-skin soap. Then I came home and took a shower to wash any irritants off and “start all over.” Now things are–I don’t know–better.

It’s hard to tell.

Despite this setback, today promised to be a great day. For several months I’ve been going back and forth with a local hospital because my insurance didn’t cover a trip I took to the emergency room back in October for another skin issue. (What can I say, it’s been a rough year.) Anyway, the hospital had graciously granted me charity services (at 100%) last year when I had sinus surgery, and that charity applied to some, but not all–it turns out–of the emergency room services (because the charity was based upon when a service was billed and not simply received). So a few months ago a kind person in customer service suggested I reapply for the charity to cover everything, which I did. But whereas the first time the application process was simple, this time it’s been back and forth. I send stuff in, they ask for more, and so on. Well, today I got their final answer–approved!–once again at 100%–retroactively for eight months and proactively for six.

Talk about good news!

Y’all, I can’t tell you what a shot in the arm this was. My therapist is always saying that the universe is abundant, and despite my often Eeyore attitude about money and things going my way, I may have to start agreeing with her. Personally, I think this could have been worked out a little faster, but maybe we’re back to my therapist’s whole thing about patience. Just wait, things will work out.

My primary reaction to this good news was both relief and excitement. My secondary reaction, however, was panic. I started thinking about the other financial quandaries I have. Y’all, I almost got online and started looking at my accounts. Then I stopped myself. Marcus, all that will be there later (God knows). How about we just enjoy a win for once? So that’s what I did–I went for a walk, got a small sunburn, read a book, took a nap. Hey–sometimes life doesn’t suck.

Unfortunately, my good mood didn’t last long. This evening before teaching dance I got online to pay a bill, but thought, I’d better make sure the money I deposited yesterday through the night-drop actually deposited. Well, shit, it hadn’t. Like, not a trace of it. Immediately I freaked out about losing not-a-small-amount of cash (at least in my world), not being able to pay the bill, and accruing late fees. So despite the fact that it was after hours, I called the bank and actually got someone in customer service, who filed what’s called “a dispute” and said I should hear something in three business days. “Is it possible the envelope got stuck in the night-drop?” I said.

“Yes, a lot of things could have happened,” they replied. “It could have been deposited in someone else’s account.”

I can’t tell you how not amused I was by this answer. Actually, I’m still not amused. Rather, I’m worried that the abundant universe of this afternoon has suddenly become not-so-abundant. Like, I’ll take that good news right back, please and thank you. Also, I’m put out that I’ll be getting up early tomorrow to go the the bank where I deposited the money to see if I can get a quicker answer there. In short, I’m mad that I have to deal with it and am impatient for a resolution.

Damn if good news doesn’t travel the slowest.

It seems these are two lessons the universe and I have been working out A LOT this last year–patience and abundance. I know I talk about them plenty here, in terms of both money and health. I guess it’s all the same. But here’s what I’m learning. The fact is that many answers don’t come quickly–and damn if good news doesn’t travel the slowest–but that doesn’t mean answers don’t come. And maybe good news is more satisfying when you have to wait for it. Maybe having to wait gives you a chance to work with all your fears, to see what you’re still holding onto, to see what’s holding you back. Then you can work on letting go of those things and on moving forward, ready to fearlessly receive the good news that’s surely on its way to meet you.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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No emotion is ever truly buried.

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Maybe (Blog #392)

Currently I’m just overwhelmed enough–by allergies, finances, and an upcoming weekend full of travel and, therefore, potentially stressful food decisions. That’s right, it’s only my first week on Autoimmune Paleo, and I’m already planning to go out-of-town–to Tulsa to perform in an improv comedy show and to Little Rock to see a play (for inspiration). Surely I can get a salad almost anywhere, but it’s so much easier to just eat “what the hell ever” when I’m crisscrossing the south. That being said, I’m already seeing the benefits of this diet, so I’m sticking to it. Not only have I lost eight of the ten pounds I gained while travel writing, but I think my skin is less irritated also. (It’s hard to tell).

But seriously, eight pounds. That’s the difference between my boobs bouncing up and down–or not–when I swing dance.

This evening I watched a YouTube video by an Autoimmune Paleo lady who said that it’s easy to get frustrated with your body when it doesn’t do what you want it to. Her suggestion was to get frustrated with your disease or problem, sure, but love your body. At first I thought this was a great idea, but the more I think about it, the more I think it sounds like hate the sin, love the sinner. (I’ve yet to figure out a good way to do this.) I mean, if my body has an problem, isn’t that problem PART OF my body–at least until it’s not? If I’m hating my immune system problem, am I not still hating my body? Wouldn’t it be better to love all of it? Not that I don’t get frustrated–I do–but I’m working on accepting myself just as I am and being grateful for my challenges because of what they reveal in me (more patience, kindness, and self-care).

One thing I did appreciate about the video is that the lady suggested being grateful for the parts of your body that DO work, recognizing the places where your body is knocking it out of the park DESPITE whatever handicap it’s facing. This is a great reminder for me. I’ve felt tired and allergy-y today, but I’ve still had more energy than I did on an average day two months ago. This afternoon I was able to go through a stack of mail, and this evening I went through “a stack” of email, in addition to cooking a meal and running a couple errands. It may sound like just a normal day, but I’m trying not to take normal days for granted. Also, I’m trying not to be overly irritated that I’m currently wiped out after “just a normal day.” I keep telling myself, My body is doing the best it can.

We’re all doing the best we can.

The truth sets you free in more ways than you can imagine.

Today my writer friend Gwen made me cry–in a good way. She’d apparently read one of my blogs from a few months ago and commented, “I love how you are healing yourself by writing the story you want to live.” This statement took me totally by surprise in the best way possible, I guess because–uh–it’s true. (God, I hope it’s true.) And maybe Gwen’s words touch me so much because I didn’t fully realize that that’s what I was doing until she said it. Like, I didn’t set out to heal myself or write the story I wanted to live thirteen months ago when this blog started. I did, however, set out to be honest, so maybe the truth really does set you free. Maybe it sets you free in more ways than you can imagine or dream possible.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Healing is like the internet at my parents’ house—it takes time.

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A Form of Healing (Blog #391)

Today I wore a vintage sailor’s cap and a vest, and tonight during our monthly comedy show, the other performers referred to me as both “Oliver” and “a Newsie.” I saw my therapist this afternoon, and she said I looked very “Fiddler on the Roof.” (My response to this was to start singing, “If I were a rich man.”) But clearly everyone agrees–I look like a character from a musical, someone one who can sing and dance but doesn’t have a lot of money.

Sounds about right.

My therapist’s big push this afternoon had to do with patience and abundance. We talked mainly about my quirky immune system and how I’m currently dieting and mentally considering everything from paleo to past-life regression as viable options to figure out my body’s problems and therefore cure myself. My therapist’s suggestion was to hang tight, be patient. She said it sounded as if I’d landed in the right place with both my primary care physician and immunologist, that surely they could find an answer. “In the meantime,” she said, “if your body is tired, take a nap. I know you’re hung up on being productive, but you’ve produced for years. It’s okay to rest. No one is judging you. You’re THE ONLY ONE judging you.”

Boy, does she know me, or what?

If the inside can turn around, the outside can too.

In terms of abundance, she said she thought I’d made a lot of progress seeing both the world and money as abundant. Now, she said, it’s time to focus on seeing health as abundant, to believing that my body and my doctors can and will eventually find an answer to whatever is going on. I don’t mind saying this is a challenge for me. I’ve dealt with sinus infections for so long and have been sick so much recently, it’s tough to believe–like really, deep-down believe–that things can turn around. That being said, the way I see the world has completely turned around in the last several years, as has my internal health, my mental and emotional health. So surely if the inside can turn around, the outside can too.

Fingers crossed.

Tonight at the comedy show, I went around to all the tables close to the stage, introduced myself, and passed out little slips of paper that we use for one of our skits. This is something I almost always do, but I normally do it with a glass of scotch in my hand. Tonight, however, since I’m on this Autoimmune Paleo Diet, I did it completely sober. Y’all–talking to strangers is MUCH easier when you’re tipsy. I mean, they don’t call alcohol a social lubricant for nothing. That being said, I survived. And get this–I met one lady who ended up giving ME a pep talk. She’d asked if we ever bombed, and I said, “MOST of the show usually goes well, but there are always moments when we struggle.” Then she said, “Yeah, but you’re up there trying, putting yourself out there, and that’s what matters.”

Isn’t that great? I said, “I’m going to blog about this tonight.” (I think she thought I was kidding.) And get this too–she was wearing a necklace that said, “Hope.” Well, I’ve been really working on hope lately, so it was the perfect reminder. Maybe someone else would say my seeing this lady’s necklace was just a coincidence, but I took it as a personal message from the universe that I was on the right track, that hope was actually an okay thing to do. This is something I’ve been thinking about today, whether the universe puts certain people and messages in my path (or anyone’s path), or whether those people and messages were there all along and I just finally noticed them. I’m honestly not sure that it matters, since it seems that when a person’s subconscious is ready to work on something, it can clearly use anything–a therapist, a total stranger, a necklace–to get its point across.

Healing is possible.

Tonight the lady I met, along with her husband, said, “Don’t be nervous. If your family’s not here, we’ll be your family tonight. We’ll cheer you on.” How cool is that? For me it felt like that moment in Oliver! when he gets adopted by The Artful Dodger. Consider yourself at home! But seriously–I think abundance starts this way, recognizing a stranger’s smile or someone’s random and generous offer of support for what it is–a form of healing. And I am slowly starting to believe this, really deep-down believe this, that the world is our home, that people are good, and that healing is possible.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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No good story ever ends.

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More Complicated Than Car Doors (Blog #390)

Today is day two for me on the Autoimmune Paleo Diet, and it still sucks. If anyone ever tells you that giving up eggs and coffee for breakfast is anything but “sucks,” you tell them to go to hell. As if being constantly tired, hungry, and cranky weren’t enough, this afternoon I started experiencing caffeine withdrawals, which are apparently just the thing to ruin an otherwise glorious spring day. One minute everything was fine, and the next minute every muscle in my skull started gradually clamping down. Four hours later, about the time the entire world looked fuzzy, I caved and took some Tylenol. You’d think my body would reward good behavior like drinking water, but no.

But seriously, coffee, we miss you.

Today was a full day, at least for me. I got up early to make breakfast and go to a chiropractor appointment, then came back home to take a nap. (I’ve been exhausted for three days.) After my nap, during which I drooled all over myself, I made lunch. This is the thing about being on a diet–you spend a lot of time cooking. But y’all, I’m not a cook. Like, I can do it, but I don’t like to experiment or get creative. In other words, I do it because I have to, not because I love to. That being said, I’m “trying” to have a good attitude over here and get outside my comfort zone. Last night I actually read a recipe for liver pate (yuck, but I’m open to it). Also, I’m trying to batch cook so I don’t have to cook so often.

Unfortunately, batch cooking isn’t really working because–well–I eat everything I make immediately after I make it.

This evening I had two dance lessons, then came home to–you guessed it–cook dinner. During this process, my parents, who borrowed my car (Tom Collins) to go out-of-town today, returned, and my Dad told me he discovered that two of my doors weren’t locking. I guess this is a nervous habit he developed a long time ago–a distrust for automatic door locks that manifests itself as walking around the car after locking it to make sure all the doors are tightly fastened. Sounds funny, I know, but I’m glad he does it–who knows how long my driver’s side rear door and hatchback (trunk) door have been completely unsecured.

Naturally, I was upset. To think Tom Collins has been tootling all around town for weeks–maybe months–so–what’s the word?–unprotected. How unladylike! I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve told him, “Tom, you can’t let just anybody open your doors. Especially your rear end door–that’s special.”

But I digress.

After dinner I set my mind to fixing the door problem, meaning I looked it up on Google, which wasn’t much help. Everyone with a similar problem said it was probably the actuator, the motorized piece of equipment that locks or unlocks each door. But in my case, for both doors, I could hear the actuators working. So, first thing, I crawled in the backseat and shut the door with the problem. Then I tried to lock it. And whereas it wouldn’t lock automatically or even manually with the door open, it did lock manually with the door shut. AND THEN, it worked automatically. Go figure. It must have just plain-old-fashioned stuck. (I should probably grease it later.)

Thinking that the two broken door locks were connected, I hoped that by fixing one I’d consequently fix the other. But no such luck. No matter how I locked the car doors–with the button inside or with the key outside–the trunk wouldn’t lock. It’d latch, but it wouldn’t lock. But again, I could hear the actuator working, so I assumed it wasn’t an electrical problem, but rather a mechanical one, like some lever wasn’t doing what was supposed to do.

With this logic in mind, I took off the plastic panel on the inside of my hatchback and discovered the inner workings of a trunk door. Y’all, it’s fascinating. First, there’s a latch or hook that closes around a piece of metal whenever the door shuts. (This mechanism is also responsible for turning off or on the light in your trunk.) Then there are two levers–one connected to the handle on the outside of the door that releases the latch whenever you want to, say, load your groceries or haul a dead body to the river. (That’s a joke, Mom.) The other lever is the actuated or motorized one, and it simply slides a rod into or out of place that locks the latch so that the outside handle can’t open it. Anyway, it took a little while to figure out, but for some reason my actuator was missing two screws that held it in tightly against the frame of the car. Maybe they jiggled loose or something, but the result was that the motor worked, but it wasn’t actually holding the rod or lock in place because it wasn’t “stabilized.”

Anti-climactic ending: I attached two screws to the actuator, put the plastic panel back on, and everything worked like a charm. Tom Collins is–once again–a man with standards, a man with dignity, a man with a back door that won’t open for just anyone.

My dad made a big fuss over my fixing Tom Collins tonight, and–I don’t mind saying–I am pretty proud of myself. But for me it was just a matter of figuring out how the whole thing was put together, seeing what causes what. This is what I love about home repair, electronics, and computers. Not that I’m an expert in any of these fields, but I appreciate that they all have a structure that can be deciphered and understood. When something doesn’t work, there’s a reason. Also, this is what I hate about physical illness and bodies, not that there aren’t reasons for things that go wrong, but that those reasons are so difficult to figure out sometimes. Bodies are so mysterious, much more complicated than car doors. I’m trying to remember this, that they take more patience to understand and work with, that they require more than a couple hours to repair.

[If it’s not obvious, I took tonight’s photo in the trunk of Tom Collins. I’m thinking of doing all my selfies back there from now on, since the backlighting–I think–makes me look so angelic. Try it for yourself and see if you don’t have similar results.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It’s okay to ask for help.

"

The Long, Slow Road (Blog #389)

This morning I officially started the Autoimmune Paleo Diet (AIP), and I don’t mind saying it sucks. Granted, all the food I’ve eaten, which basically amounts to meat, vegetables, and fruit (minus nightshades, nuts, and eggs), has been delicious. But no matter how much I eat, I just stay hungry. This has always been my experience whenever I’ve given up breads and sugars in the past–it takes a while to get adjusted.

My main irritation is that whenever I look in the refrigerator or cabinets, all I can see are the things I CAN’T eat–things like peanut butter, peanut butter, and peanut butter.

I’m trying to remind myself that it’s not that I CAN’T eat peanut butter and all the other no-noes in the kitchen, but that I’m CHOOSING to not eat them in order to give my body a chance to heal. Last night a friend explained to me that nightshades (one of the forbidden foods on AIP) is anything with a “cap”–tomatoes, eggplants, peppers. Later I read that nightshades can contribute to inflammation in some people, that they can actually cause or exacerbate eczema or contact dermatitis. Having spent the last several months with generally irritable skin and having recently endured a rather disconcerting skin reaction to a change in laundry detergent, I’m really hoping that CHOOSING to cut out nightshades will help. Not that I want to give up ketchup and paprika forever, but I would like my skin back. So here’s to Day One of Good Choices.

Let the healing begin.

Part of AIP is not just avoiding certain foods and eating others, but also “feeding your gut,” which means ingesting nutrient-dense foods and probiotics like bone broth, kombucha, and sauerkraut. (The plan also suggests eating liver and heart, but as my dad said, “No.”) Anyway, I “cheated” and bought bone broth powder last week, and this afternoon I picked up some kombucha and sauerkraut at the local health food store, since the grocery store I went to yesterday didn’t have the brands I wanted.

So this has been today–I’ve eaten two meals and two snacks, run one errand, and–y’all–I’ve taken two naps. For whatever reason–my recent immunizations or the change in diet (did I mention it doesn’t include coffee!)–my body is exhausted. I’m trying to go with it. This is a lesson I’m slowly (slowly) learning, to TRUST my body, to believe that if it’s irritated, there’s a reason, if it’s tired, it needs rest. Sounds simple, I know, but you wouldn’t believe the number of times I’ve refused to listen to my body’s messages, the number of times I’ve completely ignored them or insisted on soldiering through.

Of course, I wish my body’s messages were clearer. Like, if tomatoes are contributing to my skin issues, it’s obviously a cumulative effect, since it’s not like I eat one tomato and break out in hives. So I wish I had an internal buzzer that went off or maybe a blinking light that flashed whenever I picked a tomato up, some sort of warning signal that announced, “Danger, Will Robinson, Danger.” OH!–I’ve got it. What if our fingernails turned black when we touched something harmful like a handful of peanuts or even a sociopath?

That would be cool.

This is one of my big gripes about the way the planet earth is set up, that cause and effect aren’t always very clear down here, that we often have to look and look and look some more before finding answers. I realize God and the universe aren’t in the habit of asking for feedback, but if they ever do ask, that’s what I’d say. Like, did you have to make everything such a big mystery? And if tomatoes are such a problem, why did you have to give them a cute little cap and make them so damn tasty?

I mean–a vegetable with a hat–who WOULDN’T want to gobble that up?

You stop thinking you know everything.

Caroline Myss says that a big part of the spiritual journey is learning endurance, and I guess that means you can’t have everything handed to you on a silver platter. Rather, it’s been my experience that anything worth having–mental or physical health, money, whatever–are best enjoyed when they are hard-earned. Then they aren’t taken for granted. Plus, when you’ve had to look and look and look some more, you have more compassion for others who are looking, others who are trying to find their way. When things don’t come easily or quickly, you stop thinking you know everything. Consequently, you go easier on yourself and others. Yes, this is the benefit of long, slow road, the road that makes you stronger, the road that makes you kinder.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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The clearer you see what's going on inside of you, the clearer you see what's going on outside of you. It's that simple.

"

Determined (Blog #388)

Yesterday I announced to the world-wide web that I’d be starting a restrictive diet tomorrow, and I’ve been in a bad mood ever since. Like, I haven’t even give up bread or coffee yet and I’m already going through withdrawals. Last night I piled shredded cheese onto a dozen Triscuits, and was practically apologizing to the wheat and dairy–I’m so sorry I won’t be able to eat you for at least thirty days. It’s not you, it’s me. Dad said he thought part of my bad mood and general irritation was due to having been treated and fed like royalty for ten days then returning home to Van Buren. He may have a point. Imagine–here I’m having to prepare my own meals.

It’s so–what’s the word?–barbaric.

Since the food ax falls in the morning, I just went grocery shopping to stock up on all things healthy. (Don’t I sound excited?) Y’all, grocery shopping goes so fast when you can’t have chips, sauces, sugar, dairy, grains, or anything that tastes good. You just whip your cart around the fruit and vegetable section (woowho!), grab some protein, and you’re out in a flash. And I don’t know what it is–I came home with three big fabric bags of food, and I’m still afraid of starving this week. As if I’m going to waste away because I’m giving up beer and peanuts.

But really–I’ll miss you, Corona.

I keep telling myself Autoimmune Paleo is a good idea, that I’ve tried everything else to support my immune system, that eating well can’t hurt. This morning I woke up at ten, was awake for a few hours, then crashed hard for a nap. I’ve been feeling good lately, but my energy has disappeared since coming home from traveling. Maybe it’s “just something else,” or maybe it’s the vaccines I got Friday. I read online that those can make you tired, and my arms are still sore at the injection sites. Regardless, I feel like I’ve got to try something. I’m just not good at sitting still.

We live in a big, infinite universe.

I think this drives me a lot, the idea that life can be better. My body has been dragging for months, years really, and I’m at the point where I’m willing to try almost anything to see improvement. I’m simply not willing to accept the way things are–for the moment, yes, but not forever. This is why I continue to go to therapy, to explore different avenues of growth and self-development. We live in a big, infinite universe, and I refuse to believe that I have to live the rest of my life tired and exhausted or nervous, afraid, and insecure (about anything). Some days I have more resolve than others, but overall I’m determined–I’m going to have a better life; I’m going to find my way home.

Don’t stop looking for answers.

This is something I would tell anyone who is struggling internally or externally–don’t stop looking for answers. Sure, there are plenty of times that we have to accept life for what it is, and there’s a lot of peace in that. But I don’t think that means we have to believe that the way things are now are the way things will always be. After all, everything changes. And what else is hope but a belief that not only do things change, but also that they change for the better? That’s what I’m coming to believe, that hope is a good thing and a real thing–that even our challenges exist in order to call us toward something better and more beautiful within ourselves, to reveal our strengths, to remind us that we are so much more than we ever realized.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"It's never a minor thing to take better care of yourself."

No New Damage (Blog #387)

Last night I went swing dancing, hoping to kickstart my body’s metabolism and lose ten pounds in one night. Well, I didn’t exactly lose ten pounds, but I did lose two-and-a-half. At least that’s what the scale said this morning. So that’s a start.

Tomorrow I plan to go grocery shopping in order to stock up for a new diet, which I hope to begin Monday. It’s the called the Autoimmune Paleo Diet (AIP) and is basically like Paleo–no grains, legumes, dairy, or alcohol–plus no nightshades (tomatoes, eggplants), nuts, or eggs. And whereas I’m sure I’ll lose weight on the diet, I’m actually starting it for another reason–to help my immune system, that pesky, quirky thing that’s been such a problem for me over the years and especially lately. For example, coming back from Hot Springs and my southern eating tour, I’ve noticed that my skin is more red and irritable than usual. I got two vaccines yesterday, per my immunologist’s instructions, and last night when I took the Band-Aids off, my skin was hived up in their exact shape. This doesn’t normally happen, so I think it’s obvious my body is on “high alert.” Of course, I don’t know that the diet will solve any of my problems, but it certainly won’t hurt.

Eating well never hurts.

There’s a psychological concept that I read about recently called “no new damage.” To me this means that when your life is falling apart or things are a mess, you don’t do anything to make it worse. Like, if you’re in debt, you don’t go on a cruise; if you’re stressed to the max, you don’t volunteer to take on a new project at work; if you’re diabetic, you don’t start eating Oreos for breakfast. This is a big reason I’m choosing to try this diet. Noticing that my skin flares up when I eat breads, fried foods, and beer, I’m planning to cut those things out in order to–at the very least–stop doing further harm.

I’m mostly looking forward to this dietary change, which could last anywhere from 30 to 90 days. It’s just over five weeks until my next appointment with the immunologist, so just the idea of eating differently makes me feel like “something” is being done to address my health concerns. That being said, this diet is more restrictive than anything I’ve tried before. Like, I have to give up coffee on this plan, and I hate giving up coffee. Plus, I’m going out-of-town for a day next weekend, and I hate being on a diet when I’m on the road. But the way I see it, if I don’t start soon, I won’t start at all. I mean, there’s always SOME reason to wait until later–traveling, someone’s celebration, the cost of groceries.

So here we go.

But seriously–no coffee? You may want to keep your distance for at least a week.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Why should anyone be embarrassed about the truth?"