Settle In, Get Comfortable (Blog #968)

1 Comment

This afternoon I finished reading the book I referenced yesterday, Activate Your Vagus Nerve: Unleash Your Body’s Natural Ability to Overcome Gut Sensitivities, Inflammation, Brain Fog, Autoimmunity, Anxiety, Depression by Dr. Navaz Habib. The book suggests several PASSIVE methods for activating your vagus nerve–like massage therapy, chiropractic care, and acupuncture–as well as dozens of ACTIVE methods for activating your vagus nerve–like belly breathing through your nose, humming or chanting, listening to music, gargling, practicing mindfulness or meditation, laughing and connecting socially, and exposing yourself to sunlight. (Important note: I said TO not IN.) I’m all about this active stuff. What can I do at home to calm myself down and heal?

More importantly, what can I do on a budget?

One thing I noted while going through Dr. Habib’s book was the fact that I’ve recently been organically drawn to several of his suggestions. For example, deep breathing, cold exposure, and yoga or pilates. I’ve said before that I believe not only that our bodies know how to heal but also that we are guided to what we need, and this is what I mean. When something is right for your body, I think you’ll be attracted to it. Now, does this mean you’ll wake up one day and start CRAVING broccoli instead of chocolate cake? Doubtful. But you’ll likely start thinking, That looks interesting. I should check that out. I should stop doing THIS and start doing THAT.

Follow your hunches.

More and more I don’t think healing, or at least the habits that promote healing, are complicated. For example, two things I immediately implemented–well, started–right after I finished the vagus nerve book were 1) installing blue-light blocking software on my laptop and phone and 2) listening to classical music. The idea behind the blue-light blocking software is that blue light signals to our bodies that it’s stay-awake time even when it’s not, so by installing a filter on your electronic devices (or turning them off altogether two hours before bedtime), you won’t disrupt your natural sleep rhythms. And whereas–I admit–my sleep rhythms are less than ideal, I can at least stop adding to the problem by staring at blue screen.

Instead, I can stare at a red one.

Currently it’s 10:30 at night, and I’ve been listening to classical music–Mozart–for the last two hours. (On my streaming service I found an album elegantly titled 50 Mozart Masterworks you Have to Listen to Before You Die.) And whereas I’ve never been a big “fan” of classical music, I’m enjoying this. I guess the idea behind the suggestion is that our bodies (and vagus nerves) respond to what we listen to. As a dancer, this makes sense to me. I listen to Lady Gaga and I feel and move fast and punchy. I listen to a waltz and I feel and move gracefully. Anyway, I’ve had violins and orchestras in my ears for a good while tonight, and I do feel calmer. It’s almost impossible to get upset or hurried about anything. The average song on the radio is three minutes and thirty seconds, and the first classical piece I listened to tonight (“Sonata for Two Pianos”) was twenty-four, so that fact alone told my brain, “You might as well settle in and get comfortable. This is going to take a while.”

This is the perfect attitude to take toward life, of course. Settle in, get comfortable. Just now (well, nearly two hours ago) I got distracted and started downloading previously uploaded music from my music streaming service because I read they’ll soon be going out of business. And not that I HAVE to have all 1,715 songs I uploaded over five years ago (because I’ve lived this long without them), but I might as well. My point being that because this service won’t let you download your music all at once, you have to go album by album. Well, tonight I downloaded over forty-five albums, over 800 songs altogether, and–seriously–the classical music has helped. Normally I’d be pulling my hair out. But tonight I’m like, Whatever, there’s no hurry here.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

Storms don’t define us, they refine us.

"

Let It Go, Nancy (Blog #953)

Leave a comment

Well, hell. My internet (hotspot) is running slow AGAIN. It just took me twenty minutes to get online and upload tonight’s picture. Which means every ounce of patience I had before I sat down to blog is now gone. Poof. Evaporated. Out the window. (Just like Donald Trump’s tax returns.) Not to worry. I’m sure my patience will return tomorrow after I’ve gotten a good night’s rest. Ugh. Maybe that’s my problem. Last night I didn’t sleep well. I’m sure it didn’t help that I was up until four in the morning looking at my phone. In my defense, I couldn’t shut my mind off. Maybe it was the coffee. Regardless, this is one of the great tricks of life–you’re often wide awake when you need to be tired and tired when you need to be wide awake.

And impatient when you need to be patient.

Which I guess means I need to be patient now.

Breathe, Marcus.

Something that’s on my mind today is the idea of letting go. For the last few weeks my mom’s been going through our house and garage–throwing away this, donating that, and setting aside everything else for an eventual yard sale. Well, I’ve recently gotten involved. This afternoon my dad and I took our broken lawnmower to the dump, and this evening I started sorting through the small storage room in our garage. Oh my gosh, y’all, talk about a trip down memory lane. When I was a kid, this storage room was my playroom, the place I used to invent contraptions and gadgets. Anyway, tonight I noticed a clothespin nailed to the doorframe. And whereas I don’t remember exactly why I put it there, I’m sure it was for some sort of booby trap.

My point–that clothespin has been there since Tupperware parties were popular, and it’s never once complained. Clearly that clothespin could teach me a thing or two about patience.

While going through the storage room, I began making piles–trash, keep, yard sale. Y’all, I wasn’t always this way, but I love a good trash pile. I guess because whenever I get rid of something I no longer need I feel a sense of freedom. This is what I mean by letting go. I literally don’t have to hold on to that thing any longer. To be responsible for it the rest of my life. To insure it. To dust it.

One of the boxes I opened tonight was full of cassette tapes. Remember those things? They came AFTER 8-tracks but before compact discs (CDs). Well, since I grew up on cassettes, I kept thinking how familiar they felt and how I kind of wanted to hold on to them (but kind of didn’t because they were mostly country music). But then I remembered the last time I tried to play a cassette tape on my boom box (yes, I own a boom box!) and how it ate the tape the way I eat pancakes when I’m starving. That’s right–no more tape.

Tonight it occurred to me that we often hold on to both physical objects and our beliefs (resentments, judgments) simply because they’re familiar or because we can’t be bothered with something new, even if it’s better. Like, after cassette tapes came CDs, and now there’s digital music, which is the easiest thing in the world. Perhaps some quality is sacrificed with digital (right, vinyl lovers?), but think about it. You’d be lucky to get two cassette tapes in your front pocket, but you can easily fit your phone there, and your phone will hold thousands of songs. And yet there are those who refuse to catch up with technology, folks who still use VCRs and cassette players, folks who have yet to learn that video killed the radio star.

If the idea of continuing to use cassette tapes when you could simply use your phone sounds ridiculous, that’s exactly my point. It would be ridiculous to hold on to something that’s no longer useful, especially when you have other, better options. Getting back to the idea of holding on to your resentments and judgments, it’s equally ridiculous to refuse to let go of your drama/trauma stories about people or events that hurt you back when Tupperware parties were popular. Caroline Myss says, “You’re still upset about something that happened twenty years ago? Stop it. You’re wasting your precious life.” Like, let–it–go, Nancy.

Breathe.

Forgive.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

It’s okay to ask for help.

"

On Others’ Beliefs and Two Left Feet (Blog #951)

Leave a comment

Well hell. My home internet (hotspot) is running slow tonight, and it just took me thirty minutes to get online, download today’s picture, and start a new post. I swear, at some point in my life I must have made the mistake of asking God for patience. First he made me a dance instructor (just imagine teaching an uncoordinated married couple how to samba), and now this. Seriously, if you ever want patience, come try my hotspot on a night like tonight. And no, I didn’t mean for that to sound dirty. Unless, of course, your name is Zac Efron.

Awe, it’s been a while since I’ve made a Zac Efron reference.

Recently I read an article in Psychology Today about boundaries. And whereas it was mostly focused on what we choose to share online, it brought up a good point–if you wouldn’t take out a billboard with whatever you’re saying on it, maybe you shouldn’t put it on Facebook. Because that’s essentially what you’re doing. Telling all your friends, neighbors, and God knows who else–I’m heartbroken, my bowels are WAY off today, Trump can suck an egg. This morning I saw my therapist, and she said, “That’s right. If you wouldn’t print it on a t-shirt and walk down Main Street, don’t say it.”

One idea the article presented was that Facebook and other social media platforms by design create a false sense of intimacy, that it FEELS like we’re sharing the personal details of our lives with a select few, but in fact we’re not. We’re sharing them with EVERYONE. (Don’t tell me you haven’t creeped on a stranger’s feed. Well, someone’s creeped on your feed too.) Another phenomenon that happens online is that whenever you read or watch something, it FEELS like it just happened. People watch dance videos I uploaded to YouTube years ago and respond as if whatever I did just occurred, as if they were right there in the room and I’d asked for their opinion. Don’t wear flip flops when you dance!  Get off your heels! The blonde hair was a mistake!

Of course, few of us would be so bold–so fucking rude, frankly–in person, especially with strangers. But there’s something called cyber courage (cyber rudeness) that makes us lose our boundaries and our manners. It makes us lose our patience with our fellow humans.

Something I’ve been chewing on the last few days is having sympathy and empathy for other people and their experiences. What I mean is that–like we all do–I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about myself, trying to understand me. And whereas this has been extremely helpful, it’s also often left me scratching my head when it comes to others. Part of this head-scratching, I think, is simply a matter of what comes easy to one person doesn’t necessarily come easy to another. This is why teaching dance has been good for me. I pick up on dance things fairly quickly, so any time I run across someone who doesn’t, especially if I’m hungry or in a bad mood, it’s a chance for me to consciously practice patience. A chance for me to take a deep breath and remind myself that this person isn’t tripping over their two left feet IN ORDER to piss me off.

There’s a popular idea that people are doing the best they can in any given moment. I once had a friend who told me some of the most intimate details (traumas) of their life the very first time we ever hung out. I didn’t realize it at the time, but this should have been a red flag–because when you have good boundaries, you reserve the intimate details of your life for those who have earned the right to hear them. My point being that I don’t believe my friend was intentionally having poor boundaries; they simply had never been taught them. My therapist and I talk about this a lot. Most of us (including me and my therapist) didn’t grow up being taught to set limits with ourselves and others, being taught to be direct (and kind) in conversation.

Getting back to the idea of a thing being easy for one person but not for another, I often make the mistake of believing that simply because I’ve learned or have started to learn something, the entire world has. Of course, this isn’t true. Today I told my therapist that I wished people could be more straightforward, and she said, “Marcus, for some people, being straightforward would be as terrifying as you walking out that door, suddenly being in China, and not knowing a lick of Chinese.” This is what I mean about having sympathy and empathy for someone else’s experience. In writing there’s the idea that even if a character isn’t the hero of YOUR story, they’re most certainly the hero of THEIR story. My point being that you may get upset with people in your life for having certain political leanings or–I don’t know–being bad dancers, but for them, their beliefs and two left feet make perfect sense. Absolutely perfect sense. For them, you’re the odd one.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

You have everything you need.

"

Recognition (Blog #938)

Leave a comment

This morning I lay in bed and thought, Maybe this afternoon I’ll go for a hike. Well, sometimes decisions are made for you. When I got up and looked out the window, it was pissing and pouring. So I didn’t hike today. Instead, I went out for breakfast with my family (today is my sister’s AND my aunt’s birthday), then I came home and worked out. And whereas I didn’t go balls-to-the-wall, my current healthcare philosophy is that something is better than nothing, that it’s more important to get into the habit of exercising than it is to do everything perfectly.

Perfectionism. Screw that.

After working out in my room, I got a burr up my butt to clean it (my room, not my butt). I guess I kept noticing all the I’ll-deal-with-that-later piles while I was standing up stretching and all the dust bunnies and clumps of (my) hair while I was lying on the floor yoga posing. Anyway, I thought, I can whip this place into shape in a hour. And whereas it took longer than that, I got it done–I dusted, vacuumed, rearranged. Now I’m lying in bed, basking in the glow of my hard work. One reason perfectionism is violent is because it won’t let you do this, actually enjoy your accomplishments. It keeps telling you something you did wasn’t good enough, that there’s still more to do.

Down with this sort of thing. There’s ALWAYS more to do. Tonight I’ve been thinking I still have a small pile of papers to sort through, and then there’s my closet. And my bathroom and the garage if I get on a role. Eeek. I could really get overwhelmed if I wanted to. But I don’t. I’d much rather enjoy what has been done. Recently I had someone point out that this was a benefit to slowing down and resting, the realization that a lot has already been accomplished. Take this blog, for example. I often get so bogged down in thoughts about what’s next–a book, perhaps–and how I’m not working on that thing that I feel like a lazy writer. But the truth is I’ve written every day for the last 938 days. I’m not lazy. Plus, as a result of my consistent effort, I have endless material for future projects and have learned more than I could ever fully express.

Yes, a lot has already been accomplished.

Along these lines, six weeks ago I started a diet and exercise program. Basically, I gave myself a year to get in shape. Well, this last week I’ve been obsessing over the fact that my weight loss has come to a standstill. Despite my consistently making healthy choices, I may have even gained a couple pounds that I had lost. Again, this is where perfectionism could really trip a bitch up. That is, it’d be easy for me to go down the rabbit hole of “what a waste of time” and “if I can’t weigh what I did in high school than I might as well be three hundred pounds.” But I’ve been reminding myself that I’m in this for the long haul. I’ve been thinking, Just keep making good choices and see what happens. Be patient.

We can be happy right here, right now.

Lowering my I’ve-gotta-have-it-right-now expectations and slowing myself down helps. Because when I take my focus off what I want to happen that hasn’t and put it on what actually has, I’m pleased. For example, I’ve lost a solid eight pounds, I have more energy, and my clothes feel better. When I saw the doctor a couple weeks ago, the nurse said my blood pressure was “fabulous.” Ten months ago I was on crutches about to have knee surgery. Now my knee isn’t perfect, but I can walk, run, and dance again. More and more I understand that things will never be exactly like we want them to be. They’ll always be something to work on, something to improve. That’s okay. It doesn’t mean we can’t be happy right here, right now.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

Bodies are so mysterious, much more complicated than car doors. They take more patience to understand and work with. They require more than a couple hours to repair.

"

Around the Bend (Blog #928)

Leave a comment

Well crap. This almost never happens. I have writer’s block. For the last thirty minutes I’ve been trying to figure out what to say. Twice I’ve written half a paragraph then deleted it. Nothing that’s happened today seems interesting enough to share. I went to Lowe’s to have three keys made. Then because they could only make two of them, I went to Walmart to have one key made. Then I got stuck in traffic at a railroad crossing. For five minutes I watched the longest train in the world choo-choo on by. The whole time I wondered which car would be the last. If only the cars were numbered in reverse order, I thought. Then you would know–fifty-two cars cars to go, seven more cars til the end.

I guess waiting’s easier when you know how long you have to do it. Maybe that’s why restaurants tell you, “It’ll be fifteen to twenty minutes before we can seat you.” It’s about expectations. If that vibrating coaster they hand you goes off any sooner, you feel like you’ve won the lottery. Any later and you are p-i-s-s-e-d, pissed.

Two weeks ago today I came down with a sinus infection. And whereas I had a pretty good attitude about it for a week, ever since it’s really gotten on my nerves and caused me to worry. A week, that’s about how long I like waiting–to get well, to get over a boy, to get into my smallest pair of pants. Of course, these things usually require more time. Not to mention hard work. This is something I’ve learned over and over again the last few years. Anything worth having–a healthy body, a healthy mind, a healthy waistline–is worth working for and waiting for.

In terms of my sinus infection, I do think it’s better today. This afternoon and evening I taught three dance lessons and never once felt drained or miserable. Granted, I’m still coughing and somewhat lethargic, but I can just tell things are on the mend. Sure, I could wake up sick tomorrow, but with any luck at all, this will NOT turn into another three-month-long ordeal like the one I had two years ago. That’s the main thing I’m wanting to avoid–being sick indefinitely. Not knowing how long I’ll have to wait to feel like a human again. Two weeks? I can handle two weeks.

Hell, I can handle more if I have to.

The truth is none of us know how long we’ll have to wait–to heal, to feel human again, to die. Our days are like railroad cars whooshing by. Until we live them, we don’t know what they contain or which one will be our last. When we’re hurting we can hope that the end of our particular suffering is coming soon, but who can say until–one day–our suffering stops. The last car passes. Then there’s room for something else to come along. A new train. Perhaps a better one. More and more I believe that no one waits in vain, that patience is a gift we give ourselves, and that good things are around the bend.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

We are surrounded by the light.

"

The Last Word (Blog #925)

Leave a comment

Currently it’s four in the afternoon, and I feel gross. For the last week and a half I’ve been fighting sinus junk and losing. Last night my dad came down with a sore throat, and today he said, “It’s your fault. You gave it to me.”

That’s me, a giver.

Thankfully, Dad and I have been able to rest today. Last Tuesday, right after I got sick, Dad had a pacemaker put in. “Don’t touch the dressing or take a shower for ten days,” the doctor said. And whereas I remember thinking that ten days was SO FAR away, it wasn’t. This morning Dad had his dressing removed, and everything was fine. Anyway, now Dad’s taking a nap in his room, and I’m in bed–horizontal–in mine. Outside the temperature is dropping. Fall is here. Life is slowing down, urging me to.

Later tonight I plan to go out dancing. Not because I have a ton of energy, but because I think it will be enjoyable to move, to see my friends. Having dealt with sinus issues most of my life, I have a lot of memories of dancing not at my best. There was that holiday performance at a local department store. I could barely stand to get ready. There was that miserable trip down to Houston. Thankfully my fever broke once we arrived. Anyway, in every case I somehow made it, dragged my ass out onto the dance floor and managed to have fun. That’s the point, of course, fun.

Years later, I’d rather have the memory of dancing while sick than not dancing at all. Which is why I plan to get myself together and get out of the house later. Now, granted, if I were at death’s door, running a fever and coughing constantly, I’d stay in. But it’s not THAT bad. I just need to take it easy, pace myself. Perhaps do more talking than dancing. Leave when my body says leave.

One way I’m pacing myself today is getting this blog done now instead of later. So when the dance is done, I’m done. Today’s blog is #925 in a row, and I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve forced myself to stay awake to finish writing. This has been my choice, of course–to write at night, to write at all–but I’m sure my body has paid the price. Our bodies always pay the price. Sometimes they shut us down, force us to rest whether we like it or not. Personally, listening to my body is one of the toughest things I do. I’d much rather tell it how it should feel instead of listen to how it does. Alas, our bodies always get our attention.

They always have the last word.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

No emotion is ever truly buried.

"

On Holding Patterns (Blog #924)

Leave a comment

After a week of hacking and coughing, last night I gave up and caved in. I took cough syrup. Not that I was opposed to the idea before, things just didn’t seem THAT bad. I know, I sound just like a man. Anyway, it helped. I actually slept and have barely coughed at all today. Granted, I’ve felt loopy, devoid of energy. But whatever. I’ve spent the day resting, watching television shows, eating tacos. I don’t hate these things.

Now it’s 9:30 and I’m ready to go back to bed. Today I’ve been thinking about all the things I could be doing, should be doing–reading, writing, working, exercising. I guess I’ve really bought into the notion that if you want something to happen, anything at all, you have to MAKE it happen. Like right now, this very minute. Talk about stressful, especially when you’re sick. The thought of doing anything right now other than zoning out feels overwhelming. I keep telling myself this feeling will change. At some point I’ll return to life; life will return to me. Until then? I am where I am.

There’s this idea that sometimes life (God, the universe) puts you in a holding pattern. Maybe you’ve felt this way before, like no matter what you do you can’t get traction–with your health, your profession, your sex life. To be clear, it sucks–getting benched by the big boys. But this suckage is by design. That is, whenever life asks you to “sit this one out,” there’s a reason.

A few years ago I sold most my possessions and turned my life upside down in order to concentrate on my writing career. Immediately following, a lot of my plans–to move, to have money, to not be living with my parents–didn’t work out. What did work out, however, is this blog, and as I’ve said a number of times, this blog is the best thing I’ve ever done. This blog has forever change my life for the better. Simply put, although I’ve been in a holding pattern in terms of my outside world, I’ve been set free in terms of my inside one.

This is the point of a holding pattern, to get you to stop struggling so much, to let your old fear-based patterns calm down, and to let new, more productive patterns take root and grow. This could take years, of course, but even getting sick for a couple weeks could be a holding pattern. We think we HAVE to be out there producing, socializing, getting laid. But when you’re sick, you’re sick. Nothing sounds fun. Your new job is to lie down, watch television, be patient. (There’s an idea.) The old you wants to worry about tomorrow, but tomorrow hasn’t come. It never does. All we have is this moment, whatever it looks like.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

Each season has something to offer.

"

I Can’t Believe I’m Not Better (Blog #923)

Leave a comment

Phew. What a day. This morning I woke up at six to get ready for a wellness exam with my new doctor at eight. (My old doctor recently moved.) Oh my gosh, y’all, you should have seen the sunrise. Hell, you should have seen the early morning traffic. I had no idea there were so many people functioning before noon. Even more, I had no idea I could be one of them. Granted, it’s now ten in the evening and I can barely hold my eyes open. But still. I made it through the day.

Miracles never cease.

Speaking of miracles, this afternoon I got a haircut. Well, a trim. Regardless, I don’t remember the last time this happened. Talk about a delight. My friend Bekah got me fixed right up. She even straightened my hair, added some magic product, and somehow–as my sister said when I sent her a picture–made me look like Fabio. (I can’t believe it’s not butter.) Now, if only I can reproduce this look on my own.

Something that’s been on my mind today has been the idea of integration. Recently I had someone suggest that when you’re on the path of personal and spiritual growth–you know, reading every book you can get your hands on–it’s a good idea to put all the damn books down every now and then. This is tough for me, but the thought is that just because you’ve completed a chapter in a book doesn’t mean you’ve completed a chapter in your life. Said another way, the things we read about, contemplate, and discuss with our therapists need time to integrate or synthesize in our lives, and this can’t happen if we’re always shoving new information in. Rather, we need periods of rest to let things take root and grow.

Personally, I have the hardest time with resting. For over a week I’ve been fighting an upper respiratory something. And whereas it’s gotten a lot better, I’m still cough, cough, coughing, especially at night. I wish I could wave a magic wand and make it go away. I realize, however, that I’m simply going to have to slow down, to stop pushing. I’m going to have to let my body heal at its own pace.

Its own slower-than-Christmas pace.

As a result of this upper respiratory something, something else I’m having to wait on is my weight loss. That is, a few weeks ago I started a diet and exercise program, but it quickly got derailed thanks to this illness. Now, I’ve still been eating at least eighty percent healthy and exercising some. Yesterday I went for a walk. This evening I did a light workout at home. It’s just not the balls-to-the-wall, Richard Simmons sweatfest I originally planned. But I’m telling myself that I’m in this for the long haul, that it doesn’t matter that all the weight I lost at home suddenly reappeared this morning at the doctor’s office. Of course, this was thanks to my clothes and shoes, but still, it was terrifying seeing THAT number.

On a positive note, the nurse said my blood pressure was “really good.”

Probably better than yours.

As I’m writing, a word that keeps coming to mind is patience. So often when I’m not feeling well I put pressure on myself to heal. I think, If I were doing everything right, I wouldn’t be sick in the first place. Of course, this means I suffer twice–once from the physical problem, once from my thinking. Along the same lines, many times since starting therapy I’ve been in situations with someone else and absolutely knew in my gut that something was off. Like that I was being manipulated, condescended to, or judged. More often than not I let it go in the moment because I didn’t know WHAT to do. Only later would I think, I could have said this. I could have walked away. Unfortunately, these thoughts usually end up being less of an impersonal evaluation and more of a personal devaluation, a making myself wrong for not having handling things in a different way.

I end up thinking, I can’t believe I’m not better.

Sometimes you simply need time.

As I think about it now, one of the reasons I don’t fix my hair like Fabio is because until today I haven’t really known how. Why WOULD I know now? This is the first time my hair’s been this long. Likewise, why would any of us know how to handle ourselves confidently and with grace in every moment? As my mom recently said, “They don’t teach that in school.” Amen. Speaking from experience, even if you have a badass therapist and have been at this thing for a while, it’s still tough when you’re caught off guard. Sometimes you simply need time to accurately evaluate a situation and decide how you want to respond. To grow and to change. To integrate.

And yes–I’m sorry to say–to lose weight.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

As taught in the story of the phoenix, a new life doesn't come without the old one first being burned away.

"

On Bitching and Mitching (Blog #919)

Leave a comment

This entire week I’ve been fighting a sinus infection. And whereas things could be worse, I’ve been losing. Last night I went to bed hacking and coughing, and this morning I woke up hacking and coughing. Thankfully, things calmed down once my feet hit the floor and I became vertical. I guess the junk started draining. Draining, that’s what physical activity has been for me this week. Not impossible, but tiring. This morning I helped a friend load a bunch of trash (old furniture and such) onto a trailer to take to the dump. By the time we were finished, I was out of breath.

And starving. Let’s not forget starving, since three weeks ago I stopped eating before noon.

Does anyone feel sorry for me yet? If so, that’s honestly not my intent. I wish I could talk about something besides this plague–the black lung. (You could, Marcus.) I wish I could show up here and write about ten ways I have it all figured out and why I’m happy and healthy (and horny) all day every day. (You could, Marcus.) Well, yes, I could do that. But that wouldn’t be honest. I don’t feel great inside and out every day. For as hard as I work to be inside-and-out healthy, I still have plenty of things than can instantaneously bring me to my knees or, quite frankly, knock me on my ass.

I said a few days go that being sick carries less of a charge for me than it used to. What I meant is that for the longest time my sinus infections left me feeling hopeless. No matter how many doctors I saw and how many traditional treatments and home remedies I tried, the infections simply wouldn’t go away for very long. Then last year I discovered a probiotic (L. sakei) that turned out to be an absolute lifesaver. I had a sinus infection that lasted over three months, and once I got my hands on a product (kimchi) that contained the bacteria (and swabbed the inside of my nostrils with it), the infection went away in two days. “The universe knew you needed a break,” my therapist said.

“Twenty years,” I said, “is that how long it takes for the universe to figure these things out?”

Both when I had my sinus surgery two and a half years ago and when I learned about L. sakei a year and a half ago, I hoped that that would be it. Like, no more sinus infections ever. Alas, this has not been the case. Clearly, I still get them. And blog about them. That being said, they don’t last as long as they used to. They’re not as severe. And whereas I sometimes have to futz around with half a dozen products to find one with the correct, living bacteria, for me it’s still better (and cheaper) than going the traditional route of expensive doctor visits, antibiotics, and steroids.

But back to feeling hopeless. Admittedly, there have been times this week that I’ve been uber frustrated. Like, This bullshit again? But one of the benefits of so much therapy and honestly blogging about both my challenges and triumphs is that I’ve learned how to talk to myself. What I mean is that I’ve learned through daily practice how to not let myself get swept down the rabbit hole of worry and fear. Since I started this blog and especially since I went through about a year of being off-and-on sick, I’ve had a number of people refer to my writing as “bitching.” That’s fine. My point here isn’t to always be upbeat. My point is to be honest, and sometimes I’m honestly in a bitchy mood, especially when my body feels like a warm pile of shit.

All this being said, in addition to writing every one of my blogs, I’ve also read every one of my blogs at least three times, and although I could be wrong in my assessment, I think I make it a pretty distinct point here to 1) be real, 2) search for hope, and 3) find something good in even my worst days. The way I see it, saying, “This sucks, feel sorry for me,” that’s bitching. But saying, “This sucks, let’s hang in there and use this as a way to grow and become a better person,” that’s what I call mitching. That stands for mature bitching.

I just made that up.

My therapist says she’s a huge fan of bitching. “I love whining, whinging, and grousing,” she says. Not just because that’s the profession she’s in, but because it’s fun to vent, to feel sorry for ourselves. Can it wear your friends the fuck out? You’re damn right it can, which is why I suggest doing most of your emotional vomiting to someone who’s getting paid to listen to you. I also suggest that in addition to bitching you do some mitching. That is, start with the honest, ugly truth. Let your inner child throw a fit. This sucks. I hate it. Life’s not fair. I don’t know what to do. Then let your inner adult have the floor; talk yourself into a better place. All is not lost. There’s always help available. Things can change. I can change.

This is what I mean when I say I’ve learned how to talk to myself. For 919 days in a row (including today), I’ve sat down and been brutally honest about what I’m thinking and feeling. At the same time, I’ve been brutally honest about how I’d LIKE to think and feel (in a word, better). After over two years of doing this, it’s not that my bad days and challenges have disappeared. Certainly not. But what has happened is that now I don’t despair so quickly, if at all. When I do, I can get myself from a bad mood to a good mood in fairly short order.

If you want your life to change, you have to change your life.

This afternoon a probiotic I ordered earlier this week to help my sinuses arrived. And whereas I’ve only used it once, I think (I hope, I pray) it’s helping. I’ll know more tomorrow, but I’m not hacking and coughing as much as I was last night at this time. I have more energy. My point is that if you want anything in your life to improve–including your physical, mental, and emotional health–you’re gonna have to work at it again and again and again. Will you need hope and grace along the way? You bet your bottom dollar you will. None of us make it alone. At the same time, no one does our work for us. If you want your life to change, you have to change your life. This takes focused will and intent, determination and discipline, practice and patience.

It sucks, I know, but I promise you’ll like the results.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

Stop buying your own bullshit.

"

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

Leave a comment

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)

"

There's a wisdom underneath everything that moves us and even the planets at its own infallible pace. We forget that we too are like the planets, part of a larger universe that is always proceeding one step at time, never in the wrong place, everything always right where it belongs.

"