Don’t Get Cocky (Blog #914)

Two weeks ago I started an intermittent fasting/mostly paleo diet because–it was time. And whereas I’ve been hungry a lot (for cake and cookies), my first week I lost 2.6 pounds. As of this morning I’ve lost another 2.8 pounds, bringing my total loss to 5.4 pounds. I can’t tell you how tickled I am. My metabolism works. Five pounds–that’s half a bowling ball. Another five pounds and I just might be able to fit into my non-stretchy jeans without having to spray my legs with WD-40 first. I’m so excited I could eat cheese.

Today itself has been pretty laid back. This morning I finished reading the book I started yesterday, Will the Real Me Please Stand Up? Then I started another (short) book about the psychology of numbers and colors, then another about social media marketing. Then my dad, my aunt, and I went to the gym, where I took today’s selfies. Just look at those legs. Grrrr.

My mantra today has been–don’t get cocky. What I mean is that, hey, I’ve lost five pounds–I’m the king of the world. But ultimately I’d like to lose between ten and fifteen pounds AND get my body back into the shape it was several years ago when I was featured in a “hottie” calendar. Or better shape. Really, the goal is simply to treat my body as good as possible and see what happens. I don’t have to have a six-pack. But I would like to be pain free, and I know enough to know that achieving this goal will require my bringing my body (and posture) back into balance. Which means getting my ass to the gym. Anyway, my point is that yes, I’ve had a good couple weeks. But now’s not the time to celebrate with cinnamon rolls. Now’s the time to stay focused and keep doing what I’m doing.

Because it’s working.

Last night I reviewed my goals for the previous week and made goals for this one. And whereas I’m checking off most of what I set out to do, there are a few things items I’m not checking off. This isn’t because the tasks are all that difficult, but rather because–I can see now–I was a bit too ambitious starting off. That is, it just doesn’t make sense to change one’s diet, gym routine, and every other routine in one week. Since this is a yearlong journey, it makes more sense to make little changes week by week or even month by month. Having seen through therapy and this blog that making little changes consistently over time works, I know this to be a solid strategy.

Even if part of me wants to fit into my tiny pants NOW.

There’s this weird thing that happens when you look at old pictures of yourself. Maybe you’re familiar with it. You think, Gosh, I’d give anything to look like that again, even if at the time you thought you looked fat and terrible. My point is that few of us are ever present with our bodies. We’re always chasing what used to be, what could be. Or worse, we’re comparing ourselves to others, to bodies that never will never be our own. So I’m doing my best to appreciate whatever my body looks and feels like right here, right now.

Speaking of how my body feels, this afternoon I came down with more sinus junk, just like I did last Monday when I lost a couple pounds. (Is this the thanks I get for eating asparagus?) My friend Sydnie says that whenever you fast, your body has an opportunity to clean stuff up and out (instead of digesting), so it’s not uncommon to produce more mucus and such. I hope this is it. Like, things get worse before they get better. Regardless, I’m doing what I know to do, hoping for the best, and leaving the rest to the gods. I used to flip shit and imagine the worst every time I started feeling bad, and I just can’t let myself do that anymore. It’s too tiring and never seems to help me heal any faster.

As always, I’ll let you know how it goes.

As for me, I’m going to bed.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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On Motivation and Unconditional Acceptance (Blog #913)

Yesterday I stayed up late doing odd jobs around the house, in part because the mood hit me, in part because I didn’t want to do them today. You know, things like laundry, stuff to get ready for the upcoming week. My thought was, If I get this shit done now, I can have the day off tomorrow. Anyway, it worked. Today I rested. I chilled the eff out. This morning I slept in, read a book, then made breakfast (at noon). Then Mom and I did something we almost never do independently or together–we went to the movie theater. Y’all, we watched Downtown Abbey. It was glorious.

Stop your life this instant and go see it.

After the movie Mom and I picked up Dad and went to my aunts’ house for a late lunch–spaghetti. And whereas spaghetti isn’t on my current meal plan, I made an exception. As I’ve said, I refuse to be an all-or-nothing perfectionist about this. In fact, just to show my inner perfectionist who’s boss, I ate a piece of bread. With five different cheeses on it. (Take that, mister). I did not, however, eat two pieces of bread, nor did I eat the chocolate pie that looked oh-so delicious. After lunch I started reading a book my therapist recommended–Will the Real Me Please Stand Up?–and it said that changing your habits is less a matter of willpower and more a matter of motivation. That is, if you’re really motivated to do something (like fit into your pants), you’ll have the willpower to do it (to say no to chocolate pie).

And what if I’m simply not that motivated, Marcus?

You’ll buy bigger pants.

This evening I’ve continued to rest. By this I mean I’ve continued to read the book I just mentioned. And whereas I’m not completely done, I almost am. Mostly it’s about how to communicate authentically and openly in relationships, how to share your actual self instead of just the mask you wear. One of my takeaways is the idea that there are three things we can do when we talk to another person–ventilate (emotionally vomit on them), manipulate (consciously or unconsciously try to maneuver them to suit our needs), or communicate. (Guess which one is best.) According to the book, communication doesn’t blame, it explains. This was my experience. This is how I feel.

In terms of communication, the book says a lot about listening, how good listening does NOT involve interrupting or giving advice. I know, this sucks. It’s fun to give advice. But apparently good listening isn’t that complicated–you simply pay the eff attention (instead of checking your phone), nod your head, say uh-huh. You validate. Instead of what most of us do, which is 1) dismiss (oh, that’s not a problem!), 2) fix (here’s what you should do), or 3) upstage (if you think that’s bad, listen to what happened TO ME!).

If there’s any magic at all to therapy, any reason I’ve spent thousands of dollars over the last five-and-a-half years, this is it. My therapist listens to me. More than anyone else in my life, hands down, she doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t dismiss anything I say or want to talk about, doesn’t try to fix things or offer advice (unless I ask), and doesn’t upstage. Now, granted, she gets paid for this good behavior, and the advice she has given and the perspectives she has offered have been invaluable. But the most healing thing she’s given me is her unconditional acceptance. Because of this, never once have I felt unheard or unimportant. Never once have I felt brushed off. Consequently, I walk through life differently than I did before. I stand taller.

All because of one person.

Personally, I’m challenged by both my therapist and the book I’m reading to be a better listener. To put my phone away. To not offer advice when it’s not asked for. I mean, do any of us like unsolicited advice? I know I don’t. But doesn’t every one of us want, even need, to be heard and accepted simply for who we are, warts and all ? I know I do.

So what do we do?

We start first. We give someone else what we’d like them to give to us–unconditional acceptance. We say, “Thank you for sharing your experiences and feelings with me. I hear you, I understand, and I still like you. Don’t worry. You have don’t have to change a thing.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

It’s Time to Change My Sheets! (Blog #912)

Phew. It’s been a busy twenty-four hours. Last night I attended a swing dance at an airport hanger/museum in Northwest Arkansas. The best part? A bunch of my dance friends were there, including several who drove down from Springfield. Talk about a party. I had as much fun visiting and dancing last night as I have since I don’t remember when. This is the weekend I always hosted my annual swing dance convention, Southern Fried Swing, so maybe that’s it. Like part of me associates this time of year with, well, a good time. And although I miss Southern Fried Swing, I don’t know, last night might have been better. Only because I didn’t have to foot the bill. Or stay late to clean the floor.

When the party was over, I just left.

Today has been go, go, go. I didn’t mean for this to happen. This morning I thought, I’ll just spend a few hours painting a client’s deck, and that’ll be it. And whereas I did spend a few hours painting, I also spent a few more. You know, I got on a roll. I thought, If I finish this today, I won’t have to come back tomorrow. Well, form follows thought, so that’s exactly what happened. I finished.

Let’s hear it for the boy.

Here’s a picture of the deck half painted with one coat of paint.

Here’s a picture of the deck fully painted with two coats of paint. The light spots are where the paint is still wet. It continues to dry as we speak.

Y’all, waiting for paint to dry is the worst. Waiting for anything is the worst. What I mean is that I really like projects to be “finished,” and although I got a ton of work done today, this project won’t be officially completed until two days from now. This is when the paint will be dry enough for me to put the furniture I took off the deck back on. Again, this means waiting. This means being patient. Currently my laundry is washing, and it’s the same deal. Because I can’t wiggle my nose and instantly make my clothes clean and dry, I simply have to wait the best as I can.

My method of waiting, usually, is to do things while I wait. To be productive. You know, like an American. Tonight while my laundry has been washing I’ve been doing little things around the house–scrubbing a couple stains in the carpet, throwing away expired toiletries, cleaning out my shower drain (it was full of my hair–and a toenail). I’d intended to blog while doing laundry, but the odd job thing started. I kept thinking, While I’m at it, I might as well.

I might as well clean my tennis shoes. I might as well bleach my teeth. I might as well change the sheets on my bed.

It has been a couple months.

I have a journalist friend who jokes that the purpose of time is to keep everything from happening at once. Think about it. If we could wiggle our noses and make everything happen lickity split, it’d be cool, but in exercising the magic to speed things up, we’d also be losing the magic of experiencing the thing–of painting this board then that board, of folding the laundry, of doing the odd jobs. When I think back on my twenty years of dancing, I wouldn’t–even if I could–wiggle my nose and make my nineteen-year-old-newbie-dancer self know everything I know now. Why? Because I’d miss out on the experience of twenty years of learning, twenty years of traveling, twenty years of dancing with my friends. It’s that worn-out thing that everyone says–it’s the journey, not the destination.

Last night I had some fabulous dances. For some of them, I pulled out moves I learned five, ten, and twenty years ago. Seen from this perspective, my dances last night were decades in the making. And although I didn’t know these dances were going to happen, in one sense I’ve been waiting to have them all my life. Didn’t you wait your entire life to do whatever you did today–even if was just eat today’s breakfast, wash today’s laundry? Think about it. Whatever you’re doing right here, right now, has been a long time in the making. And you’ve been oh-so patient. Or not. Either way, rather than making it ho-hum moment, enjoy it. Like, Finally! It’s time to change my sheets.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There’s nothing you can do to change the seasons or hurry them along.

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Slow Your Ass Down (Blog #911)

Twice last night I dreamed that I took a break from work and drove to In and Out Burgers for something to eat. Both times, they weren’t open. The second time, they’d locked up just minutes before I got there. The waiter, a real pimply faced kid with stringy blonde hair, didn’t seem to care that I was starving. “You’ll have to go somewhere else,” he said. “We’re closed.”

This morning I mowed a lawn then came home to eat. Thanks to intermittent fasting, this has been my routine for the last twelve days–wake up, do something for a couple hours, then–after noon–eat. I get this window every day, eight hours, to eat whatever I want within reason, and then the window closes. Currently it’s four-fifteen in the afternoon, which means the window is open. I just ate two handfuls of nuts and an apple, which means I’m still hungry. I’ve been hungry for twelve days straight. I mean, it’s not awful, I just don’t have that I’m-oh-so-satisfied-because-I-just-ate-French-Toast feeling.

But my pants fit, so there’s that.

This afternoon when I got home from mowing I noticed a plate of desserts on our kitchen counter. Our neighbor, who’s a witch with an oven, had just brought them over. “You should try this bundt cake with butterscotch rum icing,” my dad said. “Go ahead. Just dip your finger in it.”

“No,” I said. “Get thee behind me, Satan.”

This makes two days in a row that I’ve turned down a dessert that was sitting right in front of my face, just begging to be eaten. What is happening to me? After breakfast I thought, I wonder if I have the willpower (dedication, motivation) to keep this up for an entire year, until I’m 40. Just how bad do I want a rockin’ bod (instead of a rockin’ dad-bod)? What I finally determined was that I had the willpower to stick with things today and that I can worry about tomorrow tomorrow. Will there be exceptions made along this journey? Absolutely. I’m positively determined to not be a perfectionist about this physical transformation. Give me a special occasion, and I’ll tear up a chocolate cake. But I simply can’t believe that a weekday qualifies as a special occasion and expect to reach my goals. It’s why I haven’t made even one exception to writing this blog every day. I know myself too well. If I take a break for a  day, it’ll turn into a week.

Know thyself.

Getting back to the dream I had last night, it obviously had something to do with my diet. Any time I’ve quit cigarettes I dream about smoking, and any time I go on a diet I dream about cheeseburgers and cookies. It’s like my subconscious is saying, “Hey! Where’d all the good stuff go?” This being said, I really think the dream was driving home the idea that I can’t nourish or sustain myself with any sort of “fast food,” anything in-and-out. This applies to food, friendships, ideologies, philosophies, and work. No, it simply takes time to cultivate anything worthwhile, either inside yourself or outside yourself. It takes desire, will, intent, focus, dedication, dedication, and patience.

I know I said dedication twice. It’s really important.

God’s not a fast-mover.

In terms of patience, I think this idea often gets represented in my dreams as waiters in restaurants. That is, wait-ers, people who wait. I hate that this quality is so needed for everything worthwhile–skills we learn and develop, relationships we cultivate, diets we go on. I hate it, hate it, hate it as much as you do. And yet it’s simply the way of things. God’s not a fast-mover. It takes an entire year (by definition) for the earth to travel around the sun. It takes about ninety days for the seasons to change. But you think you can change faster? Bitch, please. Slow your ass down. Take a deep breath. Do The Hard Work. Wait. The universe isn’t in a hurry.

You don’t have to be either.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

The Good Enough Club (Blog #910)

It’s 9:15 in the evening, and I don’t know what to talk about. Hum. This morning my dad and I got up early and drove to Oklahoma to pick up his sister (my aunt), who’s been visiting her son and grandchildren. I did all the driving because my dad’s recently had his driving privileges revoked by my mother. He’s having a pacemaker put in next week and has been told, “You could pass out at any minute.” Well, he’s stubborn. On our way to Oklahoma today he kept saying, “Would you like me to drive? What about now? I could drive us home. Is now okay?”

“No,” I said. “No, no, and no.”

I get it. It’s always frustrating to accept your limitations. Last year I had knee surgery to repair my ACL (which I tore when I jumped over someone’s head–well, it wasn’t the jumping part that hurt me, it was the landing), and even now there are things I can’t do. But seriously, when you’re used to going wherever the hell you want whenever the hell you want to, it sucks to be tied down (unless you’re into that sort of thing). It blows to be dependent on someone else, even if that person is glad to help you. All I can say is that it gets better. And even if it doesn’t (let’s face it, sometimes things don’t), your attitude can change.

Caroline Myss tells the story of a wheelchair-bound woman named Ruth, who when she was younger and fully mobile had an out-of-body experience and was shown by her guides (angels) that she would eventually become physically disabled. Obviously, this vision came true. But what struck Caroline wasn’t the angel experience but the fact that Ruth had the best attitude about her handicap. Ruth said something like, “Before this happened I was absolutely crippled by fear, and now the fear is gone. As far as I’m concerned, I’m free.” This is the power of the human spirit. Those things that challenge us, that we think are robbing us of something, can actually give us something far greater in return.

Ask yourself: Would I rather be free on the outside, or free on the inside?

For the last almost two months I’ve been painting the inside of a friend’s rent house. Room by room I’ve slowly made progress. Well, today I finished the kitchen, the last room in the main section of the house. (There’s also a garage area that we’re still deciding what to do with.) This is a weird feeling, working so long at something and then–in an afternoon–being done. It’s how I felt at the end of my leg rehab. Well, I made it. Sure, there’s always more I COULD do, both at the house and with my knee. Your inner perfectionist can always find more to do. But for a while I’ve really been buying into this idea of The Good Enough Club.

The Good Enough Club: Where Things Are Okay As They Are and Perfectionists Aren’t Allowed.

This being said, I’m glad my perfectionist was around for this painting job. He made sure certain spots got three coats of paint instead of two. He made sure I didn’t do a half-assed job. Still, is everything absolutely perfect? Of course not. First of all, it’s an old house. Second of all, there’s no such thing.

As I see it, it’s fine to be a perfectionist about certain things. It’s fine to have high standards. But you’ve got to be able to turn that shit off. Because if left unchecked your perfectionist will push you past the limits of reason. It will demand more of you than you can give. It will always find something wrong. This job isn’t good enough. This body isn’t good enough. The fact that I can’t (drive, walk, dance) isn’t good enough. I need things to be a certain way or I can’t be happy.

None of this, of course, is actually true. You can be happy from where you are.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Life is never just so. Honestly, it’s a big damn mess most of the time.

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On Present and Potential Patterns (Blog #909)

Several years ago there was a fad on Facebook that involved posting pictures of three fictional (TV or movie) characters that represent you. And whereas I resisted participating in this fad at first, I eventually caved. My three characters were 1) Charlie from Scent of a Woman, 2) Rabbit from Winnie the Pooh (or the Hundred Acre Wood), and 3) MacGyver from MacGyver. When I shared photos of these three characters, I captioned each picture with an explanation of WHY I identified with that particular character. This wasn’t part of the assignment. I just did it because my Inner Rabbit told me to. Rabbit, after all, is a Perfectionist, a Control Freak.

Guilty.

I’m talking about this now not only because my Facebook memories reminded me of this little project today, but also because lately I’ve been talking a lot (a lot) about archetypes and patterns of behavior. Which are basically the same thing. Specifically, I’ve been talking about how to change or transition from one pattern of behavior (like The People Pleaser) to another (like The Assertive Business Man). Robert Ohotto points out that you can never completely get rid of a pattern. (Shit. A part of me will always be a People Pleaser.) You can, however, DEACTIVATE an old, not-so-useful pattern and ACTIVATE a newer, shinier one. Recently I demoted a pair of workout shorts to painting shorts, so I no longer wear them to the gym. Rather, when I exercise, I wear a new pair. Same thing.

One thing that’s important to understand about gym shorts is that just because they’re ON you doesn’t mean they ARE you. That is, I’m currently wearing a pair of red shorts, but that doesn’t mean that I’m red–or nylon–or holey (or holy). Rather, I’m simply using (as in, making use of) these shorts. One day, I imagine, I won’t find them useful, so I’ll demote them to painting shorts too. My point is that archetypes and patterns of behavior work the same way as our clothes do. They’re something our soul uses as a way to navigate the world and to grow, but they’re not our soul, our essential essence. Earlier I indicated that I’m a Perfectionist and a Control Freak, but it would be more accurate to say that A PART of me is concerned with being perfect, or that I have A PATTERN or HABIT of being controlling.

I make this distinction because we often identify with our patterns to the point that we believe they (we) can’t change. This is, I suppose, because so many of our patterns develop at an early age and we get attached to them. Rightly termed, these patterns are survival strategies. Like, you’re probably a People Pleaser because as a child you figured out (unconsciously) that that was the best way to not be yelled at or get your name written on the chalkboard. I know that’s part of the reason I became The Good Student. I didn’t want to get in trouble. I didn’t want to get spanked. But just because I was a Teacher’s Pet at age thirteen, does that mean I need to be one at the age of thirty-nine? No. That would be ridiculous. You don’t wear the same pair of shorts your entire life.

Getting back to the Facebook fad I mentioned, I realized this morning that identifying fictional characters to whom you relate is one way to know which archetypes or patterns of behavior you currently have active. Oh my gosh, we love doing stuff like this. We take quizzes online that tell us what Harry Potter wizard we are, even what animal best represents us. And whereas this is all well and good, my point is that just because you’re running an archetype now doesn’t mean you have to run it the rest of your life. You may think of yourself as Moaning Myrtle, but–who knows?–you could transform into Hermione Granger. (These are both wizards, Mom.)

Along these lines, today I challenged my Facebook friends: List one fictional character that you think you ARE and another that you would LIKE TO BE. My answer was: I’m Charlie from Scent of a Woman, but I’d like to be Lt. Col. Frank Slade, also from Scent of a Woman. What I meant was–at least historically–I’m bookish, a bit naive, hesitant, and loyal. I have a hard time speaking up. Like Charlie. However, I often fantasize about being brash, rude, outspoken, filthy, and unconcerned with the opinions of others (as in, Fuck you too). Like Lt. Col. Frank Slade.

Hooah!

I didn’t say it when I posted my challenge to Facebook, but here’s what I was thinking. Just as listing characters with whom you identify is one way to pinpoint your CURRENTLY ACTIVE archetypes, listing characters with whom you’d LIKE TO IDENTIFY is one way to pinpoint your CURRENTLY DORMANT archetypes. Said differently–and pay attention because this is important–it’s one way to know what your POTENTIAL is. What pair of shorts you COULD be wearing if you were only willing to take your old ones off. For me, the key is asking, What characters am I DRAWN TO? I think Jamie Lee Curtis was fabulous in True Lies, but I don’t want to BE her, like ever. I don’t daydream about doing that strip routine for Arnold. You know, the one where she reaches for the bedpost, misses, and falls on her ass. But I DO daydream about being Lt. Col. Frank Slade, about having big enough balls to speak the truth, call bullshit, and let the chips fall where they may.

Again, the idea here is that if you have A DRAW to a pattern of behavior, there’s a STRONG POSSIBILITY that pattern already exists within you. It’s just a seed that needs to be watered and tended before it can become a tree. Today my friend Chelsea commented that she wanted to be Molly Weasley (another wizard, Mom) because Molly is a strong mother. Well, my friend Kira told Chelsea, “You’re totally Molly Weasley.” In other words, Molly Weasley doesn’t exist OUTSIDE of Chelsea, she exists INSIDE of her. She can see it, others can see it. Likewise, Lt. Col. Frank Slade already exists in me and–quite frankly–has been coming out more these last few years in terms of my learning to be assertive. Of course, for this to happen, Good Ole People Pleaser Charlie has had to sit down and shut up.

Here’s one last thing that I find fascinating. When this fictional-character fad went around Facebook originally, it seemed like everyone was doing it. At the very least, a lot of people were. However, when I posted my challenge today, only two of my friends played along. Two out of over two thousand. You do the math. Now, personally, I don’t give a shit (a la Lt. Col. Frank Slade) if people participate in my games or not. That’s not why I’m here. At the same time, I think it’s notable that we’re quick to identify and even brag about our CURRENT PATTERNS (People Pleaser, Control Freak, Creative, Book Worm) but not so quick to identify our POTENTIAL PATTERNS (The Fiscally Responsible and Grown Ass Adult).

Why aren’t we quick to identify our POTENTIAL PATTERNS, Marcus?

I’m glad you asked.

Because if I tell you I’d like to be Lt. Col. Frank Slade, that’s a bit like announcing I’d like to lose fifteen pounds. In other words, as soon as you IDENTIFY your potential, whether you realize it or not, you’ve ACTIVATED your potential. You’ve set a goal IN MOTION. This means a couple things. First, you’ve got a lot of work to do. (Pounds don’t drop themselves.) If you say you’re like Blanche on The Golden Girls, well fine. Party on, sister. But if you say you WANT TO BE Maria in The Sound of Music, you’re going to have to start by closing your legs. This is why we’re wishy washy when people ask us where we’d like to be in five years. Because it takes work to get from here to there, and most of us don’t like working (or closing our legs). Second, setting a goal IN MOTION means things are about TO CHANGE. Caroline Myss says we know this deep down, and it’s why we’ll read other people’s books (or blogs) about transformation but never take the first step for ourselves. If I’d known when I started therapy just how many of my old, not-so-useful patterns (and the relationships they got me into) would have to die in order for me to live, I’m not sure I would have started. Looking back, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Your potential is always better than your present, I promise.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Our burdens are lighter when we share them.

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I’m Sick, I Hurt, I Stink (Blog #908)

Yesterday I said that I woke up with sinus junk and started my magic probiotic (L. sakei) in hopes of healing. Well, once again, it worked. I woke up in the middle of the night with a surge of energy. It was like my body said, “Yippee! We feel better!”

“But it’s three in the morning,” I replied.

Of course, my body didn’t care. We lay in bed, wide awake and tossing and turning, until five. Not that I’m complaining. I’d rather be sleep deprived than sinus sick any day. And whereas it’s a bit frustrating to have to deal with sinus junk at all, my life now sure beats my life five years ago. Hell, twenty years ago. For decades I got several sinus infections a year, each infection lasting at least a week. I went to doctors. I took (so many) antibiotics and steroids. I was out time and money. Nothing really helped. Now what used to take a week or more to go away disappears in as little as half a day, without doctors, without drugs. And all for the cost of what? Yesterday I spent six dollars on a bottle of kimchi (which contains L. sakei). All this to say that I’m extremely grateful. This morning I woke up actually looking forward to going to work to paint. I was just happy to be alive and well.

Now, could I wake up sick tomorrow? Of course. None of us are guaranteed a thing.

I guess tonight’s blog is about gratitude, my consciously acknowledging that some things in my life are healing. My sinuses, for one. For another, my headaches. For months (years) I was getting them weekly, sometimes several times a week. But between going to my new chiropractor and (I think) acupuncture and cupping, I haven’t had a full-blown headache in three weeks. Is all my neck tension gone? No, not be any means. But I’m learning that things don’t have to be perfect to be better than the used to be. To be heading in the right direction.

Another thing that’s improved–just in case you wanted to know–is my body odor. Ugh. Ever since I took a ton of antibiotics before my sinus surgery in 2017, my arm pits (and other pits) have off-and-on stunk. Like gag-a-maggot gross. I can’t tell you what a drag this has been. I love dancing, but when I dance, I sweat. And when I sweat, I stink. No one has ever made a big deal about it, but I’ve been super self-conscious about being close to anyone. In the last almost three years, I’ve tried everything–Yodora deodorant cream (which contains borax), white vinegar, baking soda, coconut oil, magnesium and zinc supplements, chlorophyl supplements. The list goes on. Well, I’d pretty much given up. I thought, Maybe this is just the way I smell.

Then God threw me a bone.

What I mean is that a few weeks ago I was reading a book about I don’t even remember what, and that book mentioned another book about the importance of magnesium. Well, I started reading that book, and while doing some Googling about something it said, I ran across an article that said Milk of Magnesia was fabulous for stinky arm pits, I guess because the magnesium keeps the bacteria on your skin (that are responsible for how you smell) in check. No kidding. Look it up. Dr. Oz even did a program about it. Anyway, I bought a bottle (for five bucks), gave it a shot, and it worked like a charm. That first day I worked outside in one-hundred-degree weather and didn’t smell a thing. Now, if I don’t reapply every day (or if I don’t shower), I smell something. Again, things aren’t perfect.

But things are so much better.

A lot of times when I fantasize about healing anything in my life, I imagine something grand like an angel or miracle swooping down and fixing things in an instant. Bippity boppity boo. You know, like all of a sudden a problem is gone and gone forever. Alas, this doesn’t seem to be the way the universe operates. Do miracles happen? You’re damn right they do. And whereas I’m convinced the insta-fix can and does occur, I’m also convinced that more often than not the miracles we experience are a combination of work on our part and grace from above. For instance, I spent hours upon hours scouring the internet for sinus infection home remedies (and trying none too few of them) before coming across one that worked. The same with my headaches, the same with my smelly pits. I consulted and questioned doctors, healers. I spent a lot of money.

Did these actions on my part guarantee my improvements? Absolutely not. That’s where grace comes in. At the same time, I’m not sure the grace of healing would have come had I just stayed at home and done nothing. When was the last time someone magically showed up on your doorstep with the answer to your problem? Probably never. You’ve gotta do your part. So it’s a combination, a paradox of action and inaction. This dance between accepting what is (I’m sick, I hurt, I stink) and believing the answers you’ve been waiting on for years can show up in the blink of an eye.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We're allowed to relabel and remake ourselves.

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You Have to Keep Going (Blog #907)

After being on an intermittent fasting/mostly paleo diet for one full week and feeling pretty good about myself, this morning I woke up with sinus junk. Talk about a kick in the balls. My sinuses continue to challenge me. That being said, don’t cry for me Argentina. We all need our challenges, those things that keep us humble and give us compassion for ourselves and others. My sinuses are mine. Plus, they’re A LOT better than they used to be, and I’ve found something (a probiotic) that helps fight off infections. So I started playing around with that today. It’s not an exact science. Fingers crossed.

Now, back to my first full week of dieting. I lost 2.6 pounds.

Insert the “Hallelujah” chorus here.

Y’all, losing weight, or trying to lose weight, can really screw with your mind. Like, when I’m not trying to lose weight, I just eat whatever I want and think, Oh, I’ll get rid of this fat later. (You know, on some Tuesday I have free.) But as soon as I start losing weight, I’m either immediately frustrated (Why isn’t this working?!) or, if it is working, terrified that it won’t keep working (What if I gain it back?!). This means that I’ve spent today basically being neurotic. On the one hand I’ve been elated. I’m FINALLY using all those tortilla chips I ate this summer. On the other hand I’ve been worried I don’t have whatever it takes (the discipline, the knowledge, the money) to get well and stay well.

Along these lines, the part of me that loves chocolate-filled donuts wants to go ahead and quit right now. Like, 2.6 pounds–that’s enough.

All this being said, I’m going to stick with everything. This evening I went to the grocery store to buy more food and spilled an entire carton of blueberries all over checkout aisle two. I guess this situation has happened before, since the cashier had a broom on standby and said the blueberry cartons were poorly made. My point is that just because you wake up sick one day or spill some blueberries doesn’t mean you give up on being healthy, give up on buying groceries. Life is full of setbacks. Absolutely full of them. What do you do?

You clean up the blueberries and move on.

I’ve noticed my body kicks up a fuss whenever I dramatically change something in my life like my diet. Mostly, I get cranky. Someone says my name, and I want to chop their head off. I haven’t eaten a biscuit in over a week! is what I’m screaming on the inside. On the outside however, I’ve learned to remain (mostly) calm. That is, I’ve learned how to control myself, how to act socially appropriate even if I don’t feel like it. Recently I heard that these feelings of frustration and upset are simply part of the price we pay for our previous (poor) choices (to, you know, eat biscuits). Like, whenever I’ve quit cigarettes, I’ve gone into nicotine withdrawals, which are hell–and simply the cost for having smoked.

Make good choices even if you don’t feel like it.

Having quit bad habits and changed my diet (and even having gone through a sinus infection) before, I know that no feeling is final. That is, if you’re willing to let your body put up a fuss, if you’re willing to go through biscuit or nicotine withdrawals, things will eventually balance out. Give it a week or two. Make good choices even if you don’t feel like it. You’ll be glad you did. In the meantime, you just have to remind yourself to hang in there, to not give up simply because you’re not experiencing immediate gratification. You have to keep going and not overanalyze everything. This afternoon I taught a dance lesson to a former student, who, despite their thinking they’d forgotten everything, did just fine. “Just keep your feet moving and try not to think,” I said. “Thinking gets you into trouble.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We're allowed to relabel and remake ourselves.

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Don’t Look at the Elephant (Blog #906)

It’s been one full week since I started intermittent fasting (fasting between 8 PM and noon) and eating mostly paleo. This means I haven’t had bread in seven days. This means I’m constantly hungry. This means I’m about to go crazy. All day I’ve been in a fog. Carb flu, some people call it. It’s what happens when your body is used to burning carbs for energy instead of fat for energy, even if you have a lot of fat to burn. (What?! We can use this stuff?) Fortunately, the switchover usually happens sometime between week one and week two. This means I should only have a few more days of constantly thinking about cinnamon rolls.

The good news about dramatically changing my eating habits (and getting back to the gym) this week is that I can already tell a difference. My clothes feel looser. My stomach looks flatter. I feel smaller. Now, does this mean I’ve actually lost weight? Hell if I know. Tomorrow morning I’ll step on the scales for the first time since last Monday and find out.

I’m prepared to be either elated or devastated.

If it’s the latter, I have cinnamon rolls on standby.

This afternoon I painted at a friend’s house. Currently I’m working on the kitchen. It’s room seven of seven. That is, it’s the last room in the main section of the house (there’s also a garage/laundry room area to tackle) that I’m transforming from all brown to all white (well, except some of the cabinets are going to be blue). Anyway, it’s taken longer than expected, but every time I’m there I walk around the entire house to remind myself just how much has been accomplished in the last seven weeks since I began. So often when starting a new room or new diet I get overwhelmed–like, There’s so much to do!–but looking at the progress I’ve already made reminds me it’s just a matter of continuing to show up and work on what’s in front of you (this wall, this meal).

As my friend Kim says, “What’s the secret to eating an elephant? Eat one bite at a time–and–don’t look at the elephant!”

Don’t look at the elephant. Amen.

Last Sunday night when I launched this whole program (I’m calling it the no-fun, lose-your-love-handles, beach-body-2020 diet), I made a list on my computer of health-related things I wanted to do this week–eat mostly paleo, drink half my body weight in ounces of water each day, bleach my teeth, get back to the gym, go for a walk. Just before starting tonight’s blog, I reviewed my list and–thankfully–I pretty much met my goals. Which feels good. The other thing I just did was to make a set of goals for this week, which, honestly, is a lot like last week’s list. Granted, my inner perfectionist wanted to add half a dozen new things including, Start a new workout routine!, but I forced myself to keep it simple. This is because I’d like to succeed at a reasonable program (and feel good) rather than fail at an unreasonable program (and feel like shit).

Something’s gotta give.

One thing I’ve noticed this week is that because I’ve been spending more time preparing meals and exercising I’ve had less time for things I normally enjoy like reading (and drinking beer). And whereas I wish I could squeeze it all in (and still squeeze into my pants), that’s simply not possible. There are only so many hours in the day, and as I said last week, sacrifice is required for anything you’d like to obtain or achieve. In other words, something’s gotta give. For me this means less reading, and–at least tonight because it’s almost eleven and I still need to exercise–less writing. It means being more intentional about how I use my time. It means setting priorities.

Ick.

Like an adult.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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What are you really running away from?

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On Arguing with Ghosts (Blog #905)

This morning I met some friends to watch their four year old son play soccer. Talk about the cutest thing ever, a bunch of toddlers doing their best to kick a ball down a field (in the correct direction) and into a goal. Bless their hearts. The second cutest thing? Nobody keeps score. The kids dress up, kick the ball around, make goals, and whatever, but it’s all just for fun. No winners, no losers.

After the game my friends and I went to lunch then went back to their house and crashed on their couches. That’s right–we all took naps. This was seriously the best thing for me. So often I fill up every minute of every day. I go, go, go. But taking a nap forced me to slow down, to stop, stop, stop.

I should do this more often.

This evening I stayed home, did laundry, and spent a few hours doing myofascial release. This amounted to lying on lacrosse balls and poking myself with a Theracane, which is basically a plastic cane with knobs in various locations you use to put pressure on trigger points (fascial knots) until they release. I did this one night earlier this week on my lower body, so tonight I worked on my upper body. And whereas I had mild success with some knots, others melted away like butter. I could feel an immediate letting go in my body, a chain reaction of relaxation. Do I feel perfect? No. But I feel good enough to know that I’m headed in the right direction.

The lesson: any letting go is good letting go.

Earlier this week I saw several funny drawings online about “titles of honest books.” One was called Hypothetical Arguments I’ve Won in the Shower: Volume 1 of 16. Is that funny or what? And, as one of my friends commented, “So true.” Anyway, tonight I went for a walk and thought a lot about just how much time I spend mentally arguing with people I no longer talk to in reality. My personal answer is “too much time,” but the truth is that any time mentally arguing about something that’s already over is too much time. Why?

Because it’s over.

My therapist says sometimes we get into these cerebral debates because we so often bite our tongues in real life. Like, if we authentically expressed ourselves more, we wouldn’t have a need to go round and round in our heads. Screw you and the horse you rode in on, and all that. (As if people ride in on horses anymore.) In my experience, this is true. The more I speak up, the more I’m able to feel good about whatever has happened. I guess that’s part of the deal with those situations we can’t let go of–we don’t like the way they turned out, so we keep them alive between our ears, or between someone else’s ears if we’re wont to bitch and moan about them.

There are, of course, other theories as to why we do this, why–let’s just call a spade a spade–we can’t forgive a person or situation. We want to be right. We want to humiliate them. We don’t want to be humiliated (again). We want revenge. We want control. Because we don’t trust God or life to take care of things. Because we think we know better.

At lunch today my four year old friend dropped his chocolate chip cookie on the floor. (Shit happens.) And whereas I personally would have eaten it, his mom said, “Don’t put that in your mouth. Here’s a snickerdoodle.” Alas, our little buddy still cried. This is what’s great about children–if they feel something, they express it.

Thankfully, he was over it in no time.

Now, I realize that if someone’s really done you wrong, you might not be able to get over it so quickly as our pal got over his chocolate chip cookie. If someone’s betrayed you, I doubt a snickerdoodle will make it better. But my point is that it is possible to move on. So many of us get stuck in thought loops of revenge and bitterness that go on for decades. I recently heard a story about someone who said, “I’ll never forgive you.” Now, I obviously don’t know what’s happened for this person since, but that’s a lot for anyone to carry around for any amount of time. Because in order to not forgive, you have to stay angry and you have to be mean. Simply put, you have to disconnect from your own good heart. This comes with a price.

A price that hurts you more than anyone else.

My prayer tonight as I was walking and thinking about the things I can’t get over–and to be clear, I don’t seethe about them day in and day out, but I do spend time thinking about them that could better be spent otherwise–was, Lord, give me the strength to drop it. Just that simple. Give me the strength to drop it.

One of the things that occurred to me tonight was just how exhausting it is to keep score with everyone in my life. They broke my heart. They were an asshole. I’m a winner, they’re a loser. Whatever. It’s so tiring to play judge and jury with everything that happens in one’s life. This was wrong, and now I’m going to be mad about it the rest of my life. Please. Those soccer-playing toddlers have it figured out. We don’t have to keep score. There are no winners, there are no losers. Other people hurt us. We hurt other people. Shit happens. If you’re doing the best you can (damn it), everyone else is too. It’s not your job or responsibility to make yourself miserable, to rob yourself of the joy of this present moment, by arguing with ghosts. It’s not my job either.

It’s my job to let it go (even a little), to drop it (like it’s hot), to set it free, Nancy.

It’s my job to forgive.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Who’s to say that one experience is better than another?

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