Hold on for One More Day (Blog #865)

In an ongoing effort to heal my headaches and a number of other physical issues, this morning I saw an acupuncturist. Out of the blue, three years ago this person called me to remind me of my appointment at their office. But I hadn’t made an appointment. Rather, they’d dialed someone else’s phone number incorrectly and called me instead. Shit happens. Still, two weeks ago when I decided I wanted to give acupuncture a whirl, the name of this person popped into my brain. Maybe they’re the one I need to see, I thought. You know, because God works in mysterious ways.

As for my actual appointment today, it went well. First we discussed my issues, then the lady had me lie face down while she inserted several needles into my shoulders, neck, and ribcage. “You’re really inflamed,” she said. Then she put me under an infrared heat lamp (to help with the inflammation) and left the room. Ten minutes later she returned, removed the needles and the lamp, and replaced them with cups. Y’all, if you don’t know, cups are used for a weird process called cupping in which a flame is used to remove oxygen from glass cups. This creates a sucking action, at which point the cups are stuck to your skin. The idea is that the suction pulls against your skin and fascia and helps break up adhesions.

Here are the results from my back.

The lady said that healthy tissue will turn out pink. In the photo above, reference the few (faded) circles closest to the right of my spin. Not-so-healthy tissue, however, will turn dark red or purple. Reference the spots by my right shoulder, the one that’s been giving me hell for over six months now.

After removing the cups from my back, the lady had me turn over. Then we repeated the whole ordeal–needles first with infrared lamp, then cups–on the front of my body. “I did some stuff for your hurting ankle as well as for digestion,” she said, since these were two of my complaints. When the front side of me was done, we discussed an herbal formula for my upset stomach, which she said could also help with my tight shoulders. “In Chinese medicine both things are related to liver chi [energy] stagnation,” she said. “The associated or blocked emotions are frustration and anger.”

“I feel that,” I said, but meant I FEEL THAT!

Then she added, “You may see sufficient results from the acupuncture and cupping, but the herbs could help get that energy moving too.”

“How much is a month’s supply of pills?” I asked.

“Thirty bucks,” she said.

“Hand ’em over.”

As for the results from the treatments I had done today, I’ve actually felt a difference. While on the table I could feel an increase in energy (blood flow?) down my right art. I could also feel my shoulders and neck relax. Not completely, but notably. Enough improvement to try the whole thing again. The rest of the day I’ve felt less constricted. I started the herbs tonight. We’ll see what happens.

I’m hopeful.

Today, it seems, is a day for hoping. Recently I set an intention (goal) of healing my headaches and living in a pain-free body, and whereas the universe hasn’t hand-delivered a letter to me saying, “Here’s the answer you’ve been looking for,” a number of interesting options have been brought to my attention. For one, acupuncture. For another, I randomly watched a video online that mentioned a specific book about posture, which I downloaded and started reading this weekend. I’ll say more about it later, but it mentions the importance of myofascial release, something I’ve been fascinated by for a while now. However, the book stresses releasing tension in your body in a certain order. Basically, the lower half first. Because that’s where most of our problems start (because we sit all the time, which tightens our hip flexors and causes hell). Anyway, I’ve started going through some of the release techniques.

Since I had surgery to repair my ACL over seven months ago, the inside of my left knee (my lower adductor) has been tight. Like, it’s difficult for me to sit on the floor with my legs crossed or in butterfly position because my left leg, by my knee, hurts so bad. When I asked my massage therapist and my physical therapist about it, they both suggested stretching. Well, the book I’m reading listed a myofascial release technique for the exact spot that’s been troubling me, so I did it tonight. The picture at the top of tonight’s blog shows me trying it, but basically you sit on the floor with both legs bent mermaid style and use the elbow opposite your lower adductor to apply pressure wherever there’s tenderness.

Y’all, at first this HURT like nobody’s business. However, and this is the point, after a few minutes of steady pressure, the pain went away. This means the fascia broke up or relaxed. And just like that–after months of consistent tension and pain, it was–I don’t know–eighty-percent better. No stretching required.

Obviously, all my problems haven’t been solved in one night. But I do feel like significant strides have been made today. Hell, tonight at Walmart I nearly jumped out of my moving vehicle and confronted a total stranger I saw spanking their child a hundred feet away (I hate spanking), so, yeah, I think my liver chi is moving. But I digress. My encouragement, both for myself and you, is to hang in there. Even longstanding problems can be solved. Pain can hang around for months, years, then begin to break up or dissipate in an afternoon. So keep working at it. Keep trying new things. As Wilson Phillips says, hold on for one more day.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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All things become ripe when they’re ready.

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On Our Stories (Blog #734)

Today’s thoughts–

1. On slaves

Today my friend Kim told me that she recently read that only slaves work seven days a week. Slaves, and bloggers like me, was her implication. Ugh. She’s kind of right. As much as I enjoy and reap benefits from this project, I often feel chained to it. Am I ready to quit blogging every day, every damn day? No, not yet. But perhaps until I reach my next goal (1,000 days in a row), I can find other ways to let up on myself.

2. On enlightenment

This morning I woke up tired, tired, tired, and despite going back to sleep and even taking a nap this afternoon, I still am. And whereas I’m always paranoid that I’m getting sick, it’s probably just whatever’s in the air. And what’s so bad about sleeping all day?

There’s this story about enlightenment. A student asks his guru, “What do I do before enlightenment?” and the guru says, “Chop wood, carry water.”

“What do I do after enlightenment?” the student asks. To which the guru replies, “Chop wood, carry water.”

In other words, don’t complicate things. Psychologist Sheldon Kopp says your life is your life; enlightenment means accepting what is. So don’t make things harder than they already are–eat when you’re hungry, sleep when you’re tired.

3. On our stories

This afternoon I worked through another chapter in Mastin Kipp’s Claim Your Power. And whereas I’ve been thinking that the exercises related to releasing emotions associated with old traumas probably wouldn’t work (because I’ve tried everything and nothing works), they actually are. According to Kipp, a lot of self-help material talks about changing your thoughts, but that’s only part of the puzzle. He says our thoughts (and emotions) ultimately stem from our beliefs or our stories, that each of us has a handful of core beliefs that–how can I say this?–fuck with us. For example, I just mentioned one of my core beliefs–I’ve tried everything and nothing works.

You can imagine how frustrating a belief like this might feel. That was the gist of today’s exercise–to read out loud and FEEL what my core beliefs, well, feel like. More specifically, to feel WHERE my beliefs live in my body. Again, I approached this task with a lot of skepticism. I thought, Maybe it’ll work for someone else, but it won’t work for me. But as soon as I began, I started getting answers. This belief (there’s not enough) lives in my sinuses. This belief (life works for other people but not for me), lives in my stomach. This belief (the world is not a safe place) lives in my (extremely tight) shoulders. That’s when I started crying, when I said out loud, “The world is not a safe place.”

I imagine we all have core beliefs that would bring us to tears (or rage) if we finally admitted them. For me, I know I’ve been carrying that one about safety around for a long time. Decades. And whereas the cathartic moment I had this afternoon did help–it felt like finally letting go of a heavy load–it’s not like that belief completely disappeared when I stopped crying. Healing happens in pieces.

4. On hope

This evening I re-read some more of my old blogs. As I’ve said before, I’m finding a lot of compassion for myself through this process. Not that I’m trying to read my story as if it belonged to someone else, but I still find myself having that experience. I keep thinking, This guy’s all right. He’s pretty funny. He’s doing the best he can. So this has been on my mind, that this person I’m reading about is me and that I can apply all those positive feelings I have for the me of the past to the me of the present, that I wouldn’t treat him like a slave and I don’t have to treat myself like one either.

I’ve also been thinking about hope, about what would happen and what my life could look like if I dropped even one of my core beliefs. I mean, how would your life be different if you all-of-a-sudden saw the world as a safe place or believed that life could work for you too, that the universe was on your side? Wouldn’t you breathe and move easier, freer, if just ten percent of you were less afraid? Wouldn’t you swing your hips a little more? Wouldn’t you let your shoulders relax? I know I would.

I’m beginning to believe these things are possible.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Better that you're true to yourself and the whole world be disappointed than to change who you are and the whole world be satisfied.

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A Cedar Inside a Seed (Blog #726)

Today has been fabulous. This morning I woke up early to go to therapy. Because this last Sunday was five years since my first therapy appointment, I picked up cookies on the way. (My therapist likes cookies.) When I walked into my therapist’s office in a bow tie and suit jacket (and pants, of course, you pervert), she happened to be in the waiting room and commented that I looked fancy. Then she looked at her receptionist and said, “It’s our anniversary.”

She remembered.

Other than my dressing up and the cookies (with which I also had a cup of coffee), today’s session was like any other. Still, the entire time I had it in my head just how much my life has positively changed over the last five years. Even now, if I really stopped to think about the impact this one person has had on me, I’d start crying. It’s no small thing to be accepted, affirmed, believed in, and trusted. Indeed, I can say without hesitation–my therapist has, from the beginning, believed in me. More than I did. More than I do. This has been transformative. Thanks to her belief and support, I now believe in and trust myself more than I ever have.

I’ve mentioned before that scarcity is a big issue for me, and today my therapist referred to this issue as my “grand struggle.” She said we all have one. “Mine is different than yours,” she said, “but I can identify with yours.” This is why my coming to believe in myself is such a big deal. Because if you believe in scarcity–that there’s not enough money, not enough opportunity, and not enough sex (but really)–then, since you see the world through “not enough” glasses, you’ll believe you’re not enough either. You’ll have to. You’ll think, I need to learn more, I need to know more people, and I need to look different before I can be happy or successful because–I’m not enough. This, of course, is a lie. You’re either enough right here, right now, or you never will be. And that’s what I’m coming to believe, that there’s enough money, opportunity, and sex for me. That I’m enough exactly how I am.

That I have everything I need and always have.

Before I left therapy, my therapist told me that I’ve reaffirmed her belief that people can change for the better. This means the world to me. I say often that I’ve changed and that therapy has been great–better than great–for me, but since my progress has been stretched out over five years, it’s sometimes difficult to see even though I know it’s there. So it was nice to be reminded that I’m a different man than I was five years ago. Not that my fundamental me-ness has changed. My therapist told me in one of our very first sessions, “It’s my job to support you in reaching your highest potential.” Not my simply better, average, or good-enough potential. My highest potential. So she set the bar high. We set the bar high, because I agreed too–there’s a lot of possibility here, inside of me, and I’m willing to work to bring it out; I’m not willing to get to the end of my life and think, I was capable of more but settled for less. I let fear get the best of me.

Once when we were discussing a specific dream I have, my therapist said, “Do you think you can do this?” and I said, “Yes!” Then she said, “I believe you. You didn’t hesitate or waver before answering, so I know that’s your truth. And I think–I know–you can too.” Then I said, “It’s not that I don’t think I’m capable, it’s that I’m afraid. I’m afraid that my dreams won’t come true. So sometimes it’s easier to not dream than to dream and think it might not happen. The second thought hurts too much.”

Again, this thinking is a belief in scarcity, that God or the universe is capable of growing a tree, a mountain range, or a galaxy, but incapable of growing you and your dreams. Said another way, because all of life is progressive, it’s a belief that you are somehow the exception to the rule, that on a huge, whirling planet (with electricity, the internet, and peanut butter), everything is moving and evolving except stagnant little you. That stars, sunrises, and cedar trees are beautiful but you’re not. That there’s not enough growth and beauty here for all of us.

Over the years, I’ve had a thousand dance students in whom I saw some sort of potential and imagine I’ve told all of them, “You’re doing a good job. I see progress.” Unfortunately, many students have brushed these statements off. But I’ve thought what my therapist has told me before–I’ll believe in you until you can believe in yourself. I know on some level, they already do believe in themselves. Otherwise they wouldn’t be there, doing the work. Maybe they’re not firm in their belief yet, but a part of them is hoping. With both dance and therapy, I know this is enough, the hope that some part of your life can improve. Granted, like a cedar inside a seed, you start small. At times you feel small. Then one day you begin to feel it, your potential to be large, strong, and beautiful. At some point, perhaps thanks to someone who believes in you, you think, I belong here too. There’s more than enough everything to go around.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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For I am a universe–large–like you are, and there is room here for all that we contain. An ego, of course, is small, and it is disgusted and humiliated by the smallest of things. But a universe is bigger than that, much too big to judge itself or another, much too big to ever question how bright it is shining.

"

You Can Best Your Monsters (Blog #724)

Five years ago today I had my first therapy session. Happy anniversary to me and my therapist (the people, not the blog)! Holy crap, y’all, I’ve come a long way and changed dramatically, both inside and outside. In the last five years I’ve confronted my demons and verbalized my deepest fears. I’ve learned to say no (to bad relationships), learned to say yes (to myself and healthy behaviors), and learned to speak my truth. And whereas it may sound like a silly thing to celebrate–the day I started seeing my shrink–I will forever be grateful for my therapist, her presence in my life, and what I’ve learned from her. Even if I were to never see her again, I know I’ve been forever transformed because of her. My life is on a better path.

So pass the cake.

Yesterday I blogged about feeling better and healing from my on-and-off sinus infection. I’d tried something different that seemed to the trick. Alas, I woke up in the middle of the night sick again, and I’ve felt weak and congested all day. It’s been back-and-forth like this for a while now, and it’s beginning to wear me out. I feel like I’m constantly having the rug pulled out from under my feet. Like my body and the universe are giving me health for a day then saying, “Nope. Just kidding. We take it back.” It makes me want to quit trying, to just give in and be sick every day, every damn day, to cry uncle.

Fortunately or unfortunately, I’m not built like that.

This afternoon I’ve been brainstorming “next steps” and things to try. In my experience, there are always more things to try. And whereas this is overwhelming–because how do you decide what to try next?–it leaves room for hope. Last year I had a sinus infection for three months and finally found something that knocked it out for a year, so surely I can find a solution this time. Not that this is fun to do when you’re sick, drag your ass all around town and the internet looking for answers. My resolve comes and goes.

Recently I came across the questions, “Could you accept your pain as part of your experience without wanting it to change in any way? Could you include it as part of all that is you?” I really like these questions. So often when I’m in pain or experiencing something unwanted, like a sinus infection, I push against it. My body tenses, my breathing shortens. It’s like how a kid closes their eyes believing whatever it is they don’t want to see will disappear if their face is clenched tight. Of course, this just adds more stress to your system and causes you to hyper-focus on the problem. So I’ve been trying today to not let my current struggle be the only thing I’ve thought about, to let it be part of my day, but not my day entirely.

I’ve been mildly successful.

This afternoon I re-read some old blog posts, and it’s the biggest trip, reading my inner thoughts and wonderings from the perspective of almost two years later. It’s like knowing how my own story’s going to end. For example, today I read about my being concerned over hospital bills and body odor and thought, Don’t worry, kid, it’ll all work out. Or at least if it doesn’t, you’re not going to die. Part of me knows that two years from now, I’ll look back at this current challenge and think the same thing. I made it. And yet another part frets.

A week from today will be my second blogiversary. If I can make it seven more posts (including tonight’s), I will have completed two full years of daily writing. Wow. Like meeting my therapist, this project has transformed my life for the better. A few times over the last two years, people have commented that I do quite a bit of complaining or bitching here. I know I talk about being sick a lot (because I’ve been sick a lot). But the premise of the blog is this–first, I spill my guts about something that’s bothering me, then I do my damnedest to work myself into a better place, to find hope. Sure, I wish I could just straight to the hope part; I wish I could be sunshine and rainbows every day, every damn day. But even after five years of therapy, I haven’t figured out how to never let anything get to me. (Maybe you have.) I have, however, figured out to take even the scariest monsters in my life and shine a light on them. I’ve figured out how to shrink them down to size.

When I think about being sick, it’s really the fear that gets me. Because it’s not a problem to be sick for a day or a month. Even a year, I suppose. But you think, What if this lasts forever? What if there is no answer? Talk about tensing up. That shuts you down. But since starting therapy and especially since starting this blog, I’ve come to believe that everything is workable and everything is faceable. Not that you’ll feel confident every moment of every day or always handle yourself with grace, but deep down a part of you will never waver, a part of you will know. You can do this. You’re just as big as anything that scares you. You can best your monsters.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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In other words, there's always SOMETHING else to improve or work on. Therefore, striving for perfection is not only frustrating, it's also technically impossible.

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Deflated, but Not Defeated (Blog #718)

Ick. Gross. This morning I woke up full of snot. Boo. Hiss. I guess the sinus infection I’ve been battling for the last week has come charging back. (I really thought I had it licked.) Down with this sort of thing. I don’t have any energy. Shit.

If it’s not obvious, I’m frustrated. I hate sinus infections (I’ve had a lot of them). But more than being frustrated, I’m fearful. That is, since I had a sinus infection that lasted for three months last year, I’m afraid this one will turn into something like that, something that will go on and on and never go away no matter what I try (I’ve tried a million things). Granted, the probiotic I’ve been using off-and-on this week has helped more than anything else (both historically and lately), so maybe I just need to be more consistent, stick with it for several days (the site that told me about it says to stop when you feel better). Only time will tell.

Because of my body’s current condition, I tried to take it easy today. I took a nap, read a book. It’s eight in the evening now, and I’m blogging so that I can pass out whenever my body’s ready. Normally I’d force myself to stay awake and write or go to the gym, which I still can’t decide if I feel like doing today or not. Every so often I get a slight surge in energy and think, Sure, I could run a mile. (Just one mile.) Then my energy dips and I think, Screw that, I’m not leaving this couch.

Let’s get right to the deep stuff. Normally when I don’t feel well, part of me goes into attack mode. That is, I treat my illness like an enemy. My muscles tense up. I spend hours on the internet trying to figure out how to heal. And whereas I have found some helpful hints over the years, this is exhausting. As if being sick weren’t bad enough, and then I push-push-push. So today I’ve tried a different approach–acceptance. Not that I’m not taking my probiotic and all-the-vitamins–I am–but several times today I’ve made a point to lie still, breathe deeply, and BE SICK, to feel worn out, tired, deflated, frustrated, vulnerable, and afraid. And although nothing miraculous has happened, it has been healing (on the inside) to recognize the fact that there are a lot of emotions here, to not–for once–ask myself to feel any differently than I do.

The other deep thing today is that I’ve realized my body is trying. My body is doing the best it can. I’m sure I’ve said this before and didn’t really mean it. Or maybe I just didn’t mean it as much as I do now. The point is, I was thinking about how I’ve woken up a number of days this week full of the crud, but have woken up just as many days this week refreshed and feeling quite fine, dramatically better than I was the night before. This tells me something is going on. I picture it as a war–the good bacteria versus the bad bacteria–with each side winning its occasional battle. (Obviously I’m pulling for the good guys.) Regardless, that’s what I get from this one-day-better/one-day-worse pattern. My body clearly hasn’t given up. It’s trying.

For me, these two things–acceptance of what is and the acknowledgment that my body is trying–are enough to keep me from throwing in the proverbial towel. In other words, I still have hope. Yes, I feel deflated, but not defeated.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can be weird here. You can be yourself.

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Don’t Ever Give Up (Blog #701)

Phew. After a few days of feeling like crap, I feel better today. Like, normal. Actually, my energy came back late last night, and I couldn’t fall asleep until four. Then I woke up five hours later, wide awake. Eventually I dozed back off and got up this afternoon. Since being sick, I’m sleeping in later than usual. And whereas I don’t fundamentally have a problem with that, I’d like to start both going to bed and getting up sooner. My doctor says it’s good to have a consistent schedule, even if you don’t have a job that requires you to have one. “Try to be up by, say, ten every day,” she says.

That seems reasonable.

Last night I dreamed that I was using a funnel to pour gasoline into my refrigerator in the middle of the night. (Weird, I know.) Refrigerators are common in my dreams. Best I can tell, they have to do with stored energy, which apparently I’m low on because I was having to “gas up.” Apparently my subconscious isn’t aware of the stored energy around my waistline. Anyway, when I woke up, my first thought was the dream had to do with my needing to get more quality sleep, since the dream was set in the middle of the night and sleep is the way our bodies “refuel.”

I’ve tried to go to bed sooner and get on a schedule before, and it was mildly successful. But you, know, shit happens. I was thinking about this earlier, that there have been several, maybe dozens, of things I’ve attempted since starting this blog that I haven’t succeeded at–cleaning up my diet (although that’s currently going well), cutting back on Facebook (miserable fail), getting more rest (moderate fail). And whereas I wish I knocked it out of the park in every area of my life, I obviously don’t. I can say, however, that I’m at least willing to try again.

Except for the Facebook thing.

Trying again. That’s what’s on my mind today. Yesterday I talked about a sinus infection I had last year that lasted for three months. This was after two decades of dealing with chronic sinus infections and not making much progress. However, finally, I found something that worked. Likewise, after months of having psoriasis on my elbow, I don’t now. I can’t say exactly what did the trick because I’ve been trying a number of different things, but I can say, “Fuck the dermatologist who told me psoriasis was ‘incurable.'” My point: the body is capable of amazing things when given the right support, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

Sometimes you just have to keep at it.

When I was a kid, my dad kept a cartoon taped on the wall at his business. In the drawing, there was a frog being eaten by a giant bird. Like, the frog was in this bird’s mouth. It was a bad day. But the frog, who wasn’t going down without a fight, had its hands clutched around the bird’s throat. The caption said, “Don’t ever give up.” This is something I think about a lot–giving up. Because it’s tempting, especially when you’re up against a wall and things appear to never get better. And I do think there’s value in accepting life as it is. A lot of value, actually. But I don’t think that accepting life as it is means you have to accept that it’s never going to change. I think there’s room for both acceptance and hope. I mean, life always changes, so who’s to say it can’t change for the better?

Everything is subject to change.

Last night while lying in bed, I thought of the many things in my life that have changed for the better even though, at one point, I thought they never would–the sinus infections, the psoriasis. My neck and shoulder have been hurting lately, and both my muscles and the pain feel so solid, I wanted to remind myself that few things in our lives are truly solid; everything is subject to change. Plus, when something is bothering me, it’s easy for me to put all my focus on what’s wrong, and I think it’s important to slow down occasionally and focus on what’s right, on what feels good, on what is working.

You know, once every month or two.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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In this moment, we are all okay.

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One Page at a Time (Blog #692)

Today was delightful, just delightful. This morning I had a lovely breakfast. Then this afternoon I ran an errand to the vitamin store (because I can’t stay away from the vitamin store), then went to a coffee shop (a different one than the one I went to yesterday because I gotta keep it fresh) to finish reading Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. Oh my gosh, y’all, it was fabulous. Drop everything you’re doing and go read it for yourselves. (Finish this first.) The book tells the true story of a murder that took place in Savannah, Georgia. Four days ago when I started the book, I thought, Three hundred and eighty-six pages is going to take me forever to read. But the story was so delicious, I plowed right through it.

As they say, it was a real page-turner.

While I was at the coffee shop, my friend Bonnie stopped by to visit. That’s always good, seeing a friendly face, catching up, being reminded that someone’s in your corner. After she left, I continued to read. However, the room I was in was reserved for a church group, so I had to move seats. And get this shit. Yesterday, at the other coffee shop, there was a kid who was witnessing to one of his friends. I mentioned him in last night’s blog because he was being loud and I couldn’t concentrate on my book. I was like, Come on, be like God–speak in a still, small voice. Anyway, after I moved seats tonight and just before I finished my book, I noticed the same kid was sitting quietly alone, reading, not five feet away from me. The same kid!

What the hell? The universe can randomly connect me with a total stranger two days in a row, in two different locations, but it can’t introduce me to my husband?

This evening I had a tasty dinner–two burger patties with guacamole and a sweet potato–along with a juice I made that included pineapple, cucumber, celery, and ginger. Juices are something I’ve been trying to add to my diet, just for the extra nutrients. Last night I logged into my gym account and figured out I’ve been 28 times since joining in mid-January. Anyway, it just seems like a waste to spend all this time rehabbing my knee and working out my upper body and not support my health by eating well. Plus, I’m always chasing that beach body, and they say abs are made in the kitchen.

Crap, I said kitchen. Now I’m thinking about chocolate cake.

Our stories unfold one page at a time.

For whatever reason, after weeks of feeling discouraged, today I feel hopeful. Not that my body feels dramatically better than it did a month ago, but it does feel better, and I just have this sense that things will keep improving. Last year at this time I was in between rounds one and two of the flu (I think), and hell, I made it through that, so the body is capable of a lot. And whereas I want instant results in both my body and my life (I have dreams, ya know), it’s just not the way the world works. Things take time; things take patience. Our stories unfold one page at at a time. Thankfully, the next page doesn’t have to look like the last one. At any point, our lives can turn around.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can't build a house, much less a life, from the outside-in. Rather, if you want something that's going to last, you have to start on the inside and work your way out, no matter how long it takes and how difficult it is.

"

On Looking Back (Blog #686)

It’s Valentine’s Day. No offense to anyone in a relationship, but–balloons, chocolates, and candy–ick. Clearly I’m not in a relationship. And whereas most days I’m okay with that, I admit it–today it’d be nice to have someone to take a selfie with so we could post it on social media and make all the single people out there jealous. Now, what I’d do with this person the other 364 days of the year, I don’t know. Anyway, in order to NOT be jealous of all the lovely couples out there posting pictures, I’ve tried to stay off the internet today. I say tried–I’ve only been mildly successful.

This afternoon I started worrying about finances. That’s a great thing to do on a day when you already don’t feel great. Then I started getting a headache and maybe a fever blister, so I took a nap. Sometimes this is my best strategy when I can’t find a good-feeling thought. Unfortunately, the nap didn’t last long, and I woke up still overwhelmed. But then a friend who’s a great listener and always makes me laugh called, and we solved the world’s problems for almost an hour. Now I don’t feel fabulous, but I don’t feel awful either, which I consider an improvement.

I guess there’s something about getting your worries and concerns out–saying them to a friend, writing them down on paper (or the internet) that makes them feel more manageable. I guess it gives you room to breathe. That’s something I’ve been trying to do lately–breathe. (I’ve also been trying to stay off the internet today). I feel like my body is asking me to breathe, to slow down, in a dozen different ways, and I really am trying to give myself a break. And yet there’s all this stress. Wayne Dyer says you could search the world over and never find enough stress to fill up a bucket. That is, it’s all in your head. I would add, however, it’s also in your body. When I get worked up, I get a headache, maybe a fever blister. I break out in hives.

Put me in a bucket, Wayne.

Yesterday I told myself that I was going to take myself to a movie this afternoon. Since Valentine’s is the day of love, I reasoned, I might as well spend it with someone I care about. Alas, this plan didn’t happen. Instead, I went to the grocery store, where I bought a basketful of fruits and vegetables because I’m trying to add juices to my diet. I say trying because when I got home and made my first juice (spinach, celery, pineapple, and ginger), I discovered our blender is officially a wimp. Seriously, what’s the point of having blades and a motor if you’re no match for a stalk of celery? But whatever, I made it work. And you should have seen me drinking that green stuff. I felt so freakin’ healthy.

Then I had tacos for dinner.

Earlier when I was talking to my friend, I brought up a few bad days from my past–the day my dad went to prison, for example. I said, “Compared to that day, today was a breeze.” And not that I think a day has to be the worst day ever in order to be recognized as difficult. I really hate when you’re struggling and someone says, “It could be worse” or “There are starving children in India.” Granted, it could be worse–things can always be worse–and that doesn’t mean you’re not struggling right here, right now. Still, I do think it’s important to remember that things HAVE BEEN worse–not because pain is a contest–but because looking back can remind you what you’ve come through. It can remind you how strong and capable you are. It can remind you that even the worst situations can come to an end. In short, it can remind you to–

hope.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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A break is no small thing to give yourself.

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One Stitch at a Time (Blog #672)

Today I’m generally content. This is a phrase my therapist uses a lot, generally content, that feeling somewhere in between being on top of the world and having the world on your shoulders. For me, it’s not feeling fabulous, but not feeling unfabulous either. It’s loving the results of your new diet, but not loving the fact that you just ate chicken and rice for the third time in two days. Generally content–it’s that feeling you get when you finally embrace your age and the fact that you enjoy a good prune.

So sue me.

This afternoon and evening I’ve done a little of this, a little of that. That is, I read in a book, watched an old television show on my laptop, did my knee rehab exercises, and knitted. Yesterday my friend Bonnie gave me my first official pattern or project–a pot holder that has the word HI stitched in the middle of it. When it’s finished it will be a square–36 rows with 36 stitches each. (That’s 1,296 stitches.) Tonight I spent about an hour doing the first six rows. (That’s 216 stitches.) Right at the end some stitches slipped off one of the needles, but after a lot of concentrated thinking, I figured out how to fix them. Phew.

I plan to go to the gym whenever I get done blogging. I went last night and tried a few new exercises, some for my knee, some for the rest of me. Y’all, at one point, while I was standing on one leg and passing a weighted ball from one hand to the other, I actually found myself having fun. What the hell–having fun at a gym?! Now, despite that fact that I’m often intimidated at the gym and am afraid of not knowing what I’m doing, I’m thinking about adding in some other exercises tonight. Because the truth is, I don’t really know what I’m doing. Granted, I’m no stranger to the gym, this isn’t my first workout rodeo, but I mean in general I’m not a pro. I’m not a pro at knitting, not a pro at working out. Fortunately, it turns out you don’t have to be a pro to either get good results or enjoy yourself.

This also applies to dancing, cooking, and love-making (I’ve heard, Mom).

I’ve blogged about it before, but it’s really been on my mind today that a little bit at a time goes a long way. I’m reading this book about resetting your body’s nervous system (in order to eliminate tension and pain), and it emphasizes that all the exercises should be done SLOWLY. It says, even if you just feel a SLIGHT feeling of relaxation, that’s significant. And whereas my inner completionist just wants the results, I know this is how results manifest–a little bit here, a little bit there. As in knitting, progress comes one stitch at a time.

Earlier I realized that it’s basically been two months since my knee injury. The accident happened December 1, and today is the last day of January. Just over sixty days, and so many of those days I’ve wanted to cry or pull my hair out it’s been so frustrating. But shit, look how far I’ve come. I’ve had surgery. Now I can walk without crutches. I can’t dance yet, but I’m making other noticeable improvements week by week. If things go according to plan, in one more month I’ll be jogging. A month after that, it’ll be spring; it’ll be warm out. Yes, this is doable. I’m gonna dance again, me and my constantly cold feet are gonna make it through winter, and I’m gonna get that potholder done.

One stitch at a time.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Sure, people change, but love doesn't."

Pancakes and a Secret Handshake (Blog #665)

It’s ten at night, and I have a headache. A few hours ago I took a nap hoping it would go away, but it didn’t. Instead, it got worse. I hate that–and the fact that whenever I don’t feel well I scare the shit out of myself imagining what could be wrong. Once I had a boyfriend who gave me a diagnostic health book that always gave the worst case scenario as the answer to any given problem. Like, oh, your stomach’s upset? It’s cancer. Or, your foot hurts? It’s gangrene. And whereas I thought the gift was cute, I threw it away after we broke up. First, I didn’t need the reminder. Second, no hypochondriac with a headache should ever allow themselves daily access to such a book.

Or the internet.

This afternoon I saw my friend Bekah, who cuts my hair. (I went for a trim.) When we talked about my recent knee surgery, Bekah said that she’s had three–on the same knee–then added, “Welcome to the club of I Can’t Believe This Is My Fucking Life.” Is that great or what? I told her it would be my quote of the day. But seriously, I’m glad to know there’s a club. I’ve always wanted to be in one. With any luck, next I’ll find out we have regularly scheduled pancake breakfasts (in the afternoon, of course) or maybe even a secret handshake.

Pancakes and a secret handshake would be the best!

I don’t know what to blog about today. Getting my hair cut was my “big thing” for the day, other than going to two health food stores in search of non-ultra-pasteurized milk. And whereas the first one said they didn’t have it but could special order it, or I could be one of those people and get raw milk from a local farm (“Their number is on that bulletin board,” the lady said, “but you’ll have to bring my own container”), the second one did. Thank God, after my experience at the first store, I was really starting to worry that I’d have to turn my life upside down to get a half-gallon of non-ultra-pasteurized milk. Instead, I just had to turn my wallet upside down. It cost $6.39!

That’s nearly $13.00 a gallon.

This super expensive magic milk, which as I understand it is simply–milk, is for a fermenting project one of my friends is helping me with tomorrow. We’re going to make our own kefir. Well, we’re going to make my own kefir, since my friend already has theirs. That’s apparently the deal, in order to make your own, you first have to be given a starter kit from someone else who already has one (or buy it on the internet). Anyway, I’ll know more about the whole process tomorrow. Also, if you have no idea what the hell I’m talking about, kefir is a fermented dairy product similar to yogurt except it’s runnier. That is, you can drink it. I’m interested in it because it’s supposed to be high in probiotics, and everyone who’s paranoid about their health is into probiotics. Granted, you can buy it at the grocery store (and I often do), but supposedly making your own is cheaper, even after you pay all that money for milk that obviously comes from cows with golden udders.

Now it’s eleven, and I’d like to end this so I can go to the gym and do physical therapy. Recently I started a stretching routine (that a friend told me about and is on public television) in addition to physical therapy, so I’m spending a good part of my day counting repetitions. Thankfully, as a dance instructor, I have no problem with this. At least until I get to eight. Anyway, I’m doing both the stretching routine and the kefir thing tomorrow because I’m hoping they’ll help me, the stretching with my headaches, the kefir with my stomach. And whereas I’ve been doing the stretching for two whole days (!) and my head still hurts, I’m telling myself that some things take time. (That’s a joke–everything takes time.) But really, so often I want to ditch good habits when I don’t see immediate results rather than stick with them and be patient.

Maybe you’ve felt this way before.

Personally, I’ve felt like giving up more times that I can count. I think, I’ve exhausted every option, and nothing is working. But then–eventually–I remember the universe is large and no, I haven’t exhausted every option. And because there’s something in me that refuses to give up, I take a deep breath and try again. Surely something will work. There’s that verse in the Bible about the person who had their prayer answered simply because they were so damn persistent, because they didn’t quit asking. The squeaky wheel gets God’s grease or whatever. Anyway, maybe you can’t believe this is your fucking life, but I think there’s hope for whatever it is you’re going through, so keep trying. And even if nothing works, I definitely know a club you can join.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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