On Changing Toothpastes (Blog #936)

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Earlier this year I got patch tested by my dermatologist and found out my skin is sensitive to, among other things, peppermint and cinnamon. Well, I freaked out. I changed soaps, shampoos, conditioners. I even threw out my mint-flavored dental floss and toothpaste. That was the toughie. Do y’all know how hard it is to find dental care products that don’t contain mint? Granted, mint and peppermint are not the same thing, but again, I was freaking out, going overboard like I’m wont to do. (No, not you, Marcus.) Plus, the dermatologist gave me an app (an application, not an appetizer) that said flavoring in general was a no-no.

Fortunately, the app helped me find products that work for my skin. My hairdresser and I aren’t thrilled with my new free-and-clear shampoo (it doesn’t bubble), but my skin’s not breaking out anymore, so there’s that. Anyway, my point is I thought I had all this figured out. But today when I got my teeth cleaned, I found out otherwise.

I’ll explain.

After spending an hour brushing, scrubbing, and scraping my teeth, my hygienist asked if I was still using an electric toothbrush. “Yes,” I said. “Well,” she said, “you may want to start brushing with baking soda and peroxide occasionally because we need something that’s more abrasive. Whatever you’ve been using isn’t tackling your stains.” That’s when I told her I’d been using some hippy-dippy shit for several months because of my skin sensitivities. “I’m fine with hippy-dippy shit if it’s getting the job done,” she said, “but your stuff isn’t cutting the mustard.”

“Well, I want the mustard cut,” I said.

The good news is that my hygienist was able to get rid of all the gunk and discoloration my hippy-dippy toothpaste had let build up since the last time I saw her. Now the plan is for me to use sensitive toothpaste in the mornings for my sensitive gums (I know, I’m SO sensitive) and baking soda and peroxide toothpaste at night for any coffee or tea stains on my teeth. And whereas neither product is approved by my dermatologist’s app or my inner perfectionist/rule follower, it’s simply going to have to be okay. My parents paid a lot of money for these teeth, and I refuse to let them yellow. Considering I used regular toothpaste for decades and and never had a rash develop inside my mouth, I should be fine.

Fingers crossed.

Getting back to things that don’t cut the mustard, it occurs to me that there are times in our lives when our ideals simply don’t work. For example, I love the thought of using hippy-dippy, all-natural toothpaste. Like, Look, Ma, I’m organic. But alas, all-natural isn’t always the ticket. So I’m left with what works, even if it doesn’t live up to my fantasy about how life should be (mint-free!). Along these lines, I can’t tell you the number of times since starting therapy that I’ve had to admit to myself that something I wanted to work wasn’t working–a crush, a relationship, a job. Recently I turned down some odd job work because my previous experience with the client had been–quite frankly–miserable. They didn’t pay enough, they complained too much. So I respectfully said, “No thank you, I’m done. This isn’t cutting the mustard for me.”

Lately I’ve written a lot about changing patterns, and whereas it’s more involved than this, changing patterns is basically like changing toothpastes. You stop doing the thing that doesn’t work and start doing the thing that does. This is whether you like it or not. For example, early on my therapist suggested I stop chasing boys. And whereas I agree with her that chasing boys is a bad idea, there’s part of me (my unrequited lover pattern) that gets a thrill from pursuing, from wanting what I can’t have. But ultimately wanting what you can’t have is a form of self-punishment. So unless you want to torture yourself forever, you have to get honest. This toothpaste is hurting my teeth; this relationship is hurting my heart. From there, you have to be willing to change. You have to be willing to move on.

For me, one of the benefits of regularly going to therapy is that it helps me see clearly what is and isn’t working in my life. I’m being literal about this. Because I’m anal retentive, I keep a list of things I want to discuss with my therapist. If I’m crushing on a boy, he goes on the list. If I call him and he doesn’t call me back, he goes on the list again. This is how I know when something or someone isn’t cutting the mustard–they keep showing up on the list. Granted, sometimes the problem isn’t the situation or the person–it’s how I’m handling it. At the end of the day, I’m responsible. But at the very least the list lets me know when something or someone is NOT well with my soul.

After all this time in therapy, this is what I absolutely know to be true–your soul knows when something is off. Unfortunately, most of us aren’t taught to listen to our own inner wisdom. Not to mention the fact that we often don’t even WANT to hear ourselves (because it means change). But if you are interested in listening to your soul and don’t know where to start, simply pay attention to what comes out of your mouth. What do you talk to your friends about? What do you complain about? What, or whom, do yo worry about at night? If you keep a journal, read it. What situations or people keep showing up? This isn’t a coincidence. Maybe, just maybe, it’s time to do something about it. Maybe it’s time to change toothpastes.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"The heart sings for its own reasons."

The Water Wouldn’t Let Me Worry (Blog #935)

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What a delightful day. This afternoon I helped a friend work on their deck for two and a half hours, and that was it. By 3:15 I was a free man. And whereas the old me would have gone to a coffee shop and read a book, the new me grabbed a smoothie and headed to Natural Dam.

I’ll explain.

Yesterday I wrote about my taking a 10-day online class with Wim Hof, who promotes deep breathing and cold exposure as ways to tap into your potential, reset and exercise your nervous and cardiovascular systems, relieve stress, and heal. Today was day eight of the class, and the suggested assignment was 1) spend thirty minutes walking in nature, preferably barefoot, and 2) if possible, go for a swim in cold water. Since Wim suggests doing all this in a pair of shorts (fewer clothes means more cold exposure and more vitamin D), today was the perfect day for it–it was 66 degrees outside. Any less and this self-avowed cold hater may not have been on board.

Something that’s come across my radar screen the last few months is the idea that being in nature is good for us. I know, I know, it makes sense, fresh air and whatever. Wim points out that we exhale carbon dioxide, and trees inhale carbon dioxide. Conversely, trees exhale oxygen, and we inhale oxygen. So no wonder being in nature feels good. We are one system. Tonight I watched a documentary called Heal for Free about the benefits of grounding or earthing, physically connecting with the earth by walking barefoot or touching a tree. And whereas I can’t say anything about the science behind it, I do know it feels good. This afternoon I walked the trails at Natural Dam for half an hour, and it was absolutely fabulous.

Of course, I had to be careful while walking barefoot. There were plenty of hard rocks and sharp stickers along the way. That being said, I simply watched where I was going and moved slowly. Perhaps this is one of the benefits of walking barefoot–it forces you to be mindful. Plus, there’s something about literally touching the earth that feels good. There’s something primal about it.

Will I feel this way when it’s 42 degrees outside? I doubt it, but I’m open to the idea.

As good as walking in nature felt, what felt even better–and yes I’m being serious–was slipping into the cold waters of Mountain Fork Creek (the creek that feeds Natural Dam). That’s right, I did it, I got in. And whereas I don’t know how cold the water was, I know it was certainly chilly. Still, once I took a few deep breaths and submerged myself to my neck (I had to lie flat because I apparently picked a shallow spot to climb in), I was okay. Granted, I never got warm, but I did stop shivering and actually relaxed. And whereas it wasn’t deep enough to swim, I did kick my legs around and managed to stay in for–I’m guessing–five minutes.

Believe it or not, I can’t wait to do it again. For those five minutes–and this is the point of cold exposure–I was absolutely present, just enjoying the sensations, taking in the gorgeous sights. (Have you ever lay in a running creek and really looked at a tree overheard or stared at the horizon?!) Seriously, when you’re in cold water, you’re too busy breathing to think about your bills. I tried, but the water wouldn’t let me worry. What’s more, when it was over, I was left with a natural high, a sense of being truly alive, like I was bigger, stronger than I was before.

I’ve never gotten this feeling from watching Netflix.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Since one life touches another, we can never really say how far our influence goes. Truly, our story goes on and on in both directions. Truly, we are infinite.

"

Capable (Blog #934)

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Five weeks ago I started intermittent fasting (eating between noon and 8 PM) and eating healthier (mostly paleo). When I weighed in a week ago, I’d lost 9.8 pounds (woowho). When I weighed today I was up a pound (boo). Still, this is a total loss of 8.8 pounds, and that’s not too shabby, especially considering I’ve been fighting some sinus junk for the last three weeks and haven’t done much exercising. Thankfully, the junk seems to be (finally) clearing out, so forgetting that which is behind, I press forward toward the mark of getting into my own pants (since I can’t get into anyone else’s).

That’s a sex joke, Mom.

Since I began intermittent fasting, a number of people including my therapist have suggested I try fasting for at least a day because fasting for longer periods of time gives your body a break (from digesting) and allows it to focus on healing. So in the spirit of trying new things for the sake of my health (and waistline), starting last night at 9:30 (after I ate a piece of pumpkin pie), I fasted for 23 hours. And whereas I was definitely hungry, it wasn’t terrible. In fact, today was kind of the perfect day. I slept in, spent six hours watching Season 3 of The Deuce, and went for a hourlong walk. Then at 8:30 I had dinner (thanks, Mom). And whereas I ate two helpings, I didn’t go crazy. Now it’s 9:55 and I feel fine–not hungry, not full.

For me the hardest part about not eating for almost 24 hours was deciding I could do it. It’s weird how attached you can get to the idea of food. You think, I’ve got to have it. Last night and this morning (before I’d fully committed to doing this thing) I thought, I’m not sure if I can skip two meals. What if I die? Of course, I didn’t really think of fasting as a matter of life and death, but I did wonder the same thing I’ve always wondered when I’ve quit cigarettes–What if I’m not strong enough? But having quit cigarettes and now having fasted for just under a day, I know I am strong enough. In both cases, it was just a matter of deciding I was going to do it.

And then doing it.

Something else I’ve recently decided to do is take cold showers. This last February I listened to a podcast about the benefits of cold exposure, and although the idea of exercising your cardiovascular system by subjecting it to varied (cold) temperatures made sense to me, I didn’t do much with it. However, last week I signed up for a free 10-day online class with The Iceman, Wim Hof, who’s a huge proponent of cold therapy and deep breathing. Wim has been awarded 26 world records, including one for climbing Mt. Everest in a pair of shorts. Anyway, I figured if he could do that, I could take a two-minute cold shower, which I did today. And whereas it was shocking at first, like the fasting it wasn’t terrible. Once I started breathing deeply (which your body does instinctively if you don’t hold your breath), it was fine. Not pleasant, not cozy, but fine.

As a self-professed cold hater, I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but taking a cold shower was actually fun. At least it was fun when it was over. Wim says your body releases cannabinoids and opioids when exposed to cold temperatures, so maybe that was it. Regardless, I did feel euphoric, more alive.

Having struggled with sinus issues most of my life, there’s a part of me that always feels weak. Like I could fall ill at any moment. Consequently, I often don’t trust my body. I get invited to do things, go on long trips, and I think, What if I can’t? What if I get sick? And whereas I don’t have all the health answers I’d like to have (who does?), one of the positive things that’s come out of my journey the last few years is that I’m beginning to trust my body more. Last year I went through a battery of tests that basically said I was healthy as a horse. My immune system is stellar. I don’t have allergies. Granted, I still get some crud now and then, but little by little, I’m coming around to the idea that my body isn’t broken. At the very least I’m learning that I’m stronger than I thought I was. I can fast. I can handle the cold. I can write every day for over two and a half years. Now this is what I’m convinced of–that we are all capable of more than we realize.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Why should anyone be embarrassed about the truth?"

Something I’m Real Shitty at (Blog #931)

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Last night I worked backstage at Beautiful: The Carole King Musical until 2:30 in the morning. Guess who didn’t feel beautiful by the time it was over? That’s right, this guy. And probably everyone else who was there too. Yesterday morning we started load-in at 7:45 and didn’t finish until 4:15. Well, what went up in over six hours (we had a lunch break) came down in four or five. You should have seen it. As soon as the show ended, everyone started moving, packing up props, stashing away hair, makeup, and costumes, and taking down lights, backdrops, and speakers (they seriously bring all their own stuff). Slowly but surely, everything that was taken off the four semi-trailers was put back on, except perhaps several pieces of gaffer tape still stuck to the stage floor.

By the time I got home, it was three in the morning. I promptly crashed. And whereas I woke up at ten, I went back to sleep until noon (just in time for breakfast). I’ve been fighting some sinus junk for over two weeks now, and I thought, My body could the rest. That being said, I haven’t exactly taken today easy. After breakfast I ran to Fort Smith for a quick meeting and what I thought would be a short handyman project. Alas, it turned into a long handyman project and ended up taking most the early evening, until I had a dance lesson. Granted, I slowed down after my lesson, but I also frittered away a lot of time scrolling through my phone, which means it’s now past eleven and I’m still up writing.

My writing late at night isn’t unusual, of course. But today I’ve been thinking about something my therapist said recently–“Marcus, you’re real shitty at listening to your body when it needs a break. You’re real good at doing plenty of things, but you’re real shitty at that.”

I didn’t disagree with her.

This conversation started because of my recent and longterm struggle with sinus infections. I told my therapist, “I have a lot of goals, writing and personal projects. Recently I started dieting and getting back to the gym, and then this crud happened. So I don’t know if I’m supposed to slow down or push myself.” Well, my therapist did NOT recommend pushing myself. “Your body IS talking to you,” she said.

“Well, I know that,” I said. “I just don’t like what’s it saying.”

“Like, take a nap?” she offered.

“Yeah, like that.”

I’m going to try to do better about this. Normally when I see a free moment or day on my horizon, I fill it up. Or allow it to be filled up. But after I get through the next couple of days, my schedule looks free, and I intend to keep it that way. I plan to lie around the house, watch television. In a word, rest. Even if this doesn’t heal me, it can only help me. Like most Americans, I’m hung up on being productive, but my therapist says some of the healthiest countries in the world are the least productive by our standards. “They work an average of four hours a day,” she says. “What do you think about that?”

This concept, of course, is tough for me to wrap my mind around. I know I don’t have a regular nine to five, but I’m so used to being busy, go-go-going even when my body doesn’t feel like it. Because I think I should. Because I think I have to. Because–quite honestly–I’m in the habit of doing so. But I am determined to (gently) slow down. I’m determined to listen to my body, even if means working less, even if it means lying in bed for a week, a month, or more. I’m convinced–like packing a semi-trailer, healing takes time. It can’t–and won’t–be rushed.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If anything is ever going to change for the better, the truth has to come first.

"

You Don’t Have to Be Perfect (Blog #927)

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Two weeks ago tomorrow I came down with a sinus infection. And whereas I’ve been trying all my tricks to get it to go away, it hasn’t. This morning the junk I coughed up was as colorful as ever, worse than the last few days. And whereas being sick is frustrating, I’ve realized the worst part about being sick is not the actual sickness, but rather my fear associated with it. For example, today I lay in bed and watched Season 2 of Pose, and this wasn’t difficult at all. What was difficult was imaging how awful the rest of the week will be if I don’t get better. I kept thinking, On Wednesday I have to work from sunrise until (probably) after midnight, and it’s just going to be hell. Never mind the fact that I COULD get better before then.

It’s funny how we sell ourselves on the worst possible scenario. As I’ve been struggling with this sinus infection for the last two weeks, I’ve all but convinced myself it’s going to turn into another three-month-long deal like the one I had almost two years ago. Thus all my horrible what-if scenarios. But hell, what if I am sick on Wednesday? I’ve worked all day with a sinus infection–and a fever!–before. It’s not something I want to repeat, of course, but it is something I know I can survive (because I have). The truth is we can survive almost anything if we simply take it one moment at a time.

I’ve realized lately just how much I tell myself I’m special–but not in a good way. What I mean is that whenever I get ANOTHER sinus infection–or chronic body oder or upset stomach–I tell myself that I’m the exception to the rule, that everyone else can heal but I can’t, that my body is an unsolvable mystery. But the truth is this thinking is a bunch of bullshit. I’m not THAT special. As Caroline Myss says, “Healing isn’t personal.” It’s something that’s available–at least possible–for everyone. If other people can find answers, I can find answers. You can find answers.

Forcing myself to hope rather than despair, this morning I went back to the website where I originally learned about the probiotic that has–up until this point–been so helpful for my sinuses. For over an hour I read about the author’s experience overcoming chronic sinusitis, as well as the questions asked and comments made by people just like me. First of all, I was reminded that I’m not alone; a lot of people struggle with their sinuses (or SOMETHING). No one gets through life without challenges. Second of all, I was reminded that “less is more.”

When trying to treat my sinus infection, my approach, however, has been “more is better.” That is, two or three times a day I’ve tried two or three different probiotics. But the website said this may be overkill. “Try one thing once or twice a day and see what happens,” it said. “It’s all self-experimentation.” So that’s what I did this morning–I tried one thing, one time. And whereas I can’t say for sure, I do think I’ve felt better as the day has gone on. I have more energy. I’m less overwhelmed. I’m not coughing as much.

Naturally, I hope things are on the mend. I’ll know more tomorrow. But even if I wake up hacking and coughing again, I’m convinced you don’t have to use a sledgehammer where a regular hammer will do. Four weeks ago I started intermittent fasting (eating only between noon and 8 PM) and eating mostly paleo, and although I’ve been a hard ass about it, I haven’t been a complete hard ass about it; I haven’t been a perfectionist. Yesterday I ate a full breakfast at 9 AM and didn’t stop eating until 9 PM. For the last three weeks I’ve eaten a fair amount of cheddar cheese (which isn’t paleo at all). But get this shit–this morning I weighed in and found out I’ve lost 9.8 pounds in the last 27 days. I can’t tell you how thrilled I am. (I can’t tell you how thrilled the elastic in my underwear is.) But my point is that it’s possible to see results with smaller, consistently taken actions. You don’t have to go all-or-nothing. You don’t have to be perfect to heal.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If you think only girls cry or that crying is inappropriate for some reason, fuck you. Some things are too damn heavy to hold on to forever.

"

Time to Slow Down (Blog #926)

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Last night I went dancing in Tulsa. And whereas it wasn’t my best night–I felt crummy, and my dancing was rough–it was good to get out of the house, move a little, and see friends. One friend I was not happy to see was Old Man Winter, who apparently showed up uninvited while the rest of us were dancing. When I left the dance, my car said it was forty-six degrees outside. I can’t tell you how unimpressed I was. But what can you do?

You can put on a coat.

Today, like every other day for the last week, I woke up hacking and coughing. Again, I was unimpressed. Despite my best efforts, this junk is not getting better. At the same time, it’s not getting worse. My energy level is a consistent “blah to medium well,” and I’m able to get around. I keep terrifying myself thinking I’ll have a three-month-long sinus infection like I did over a year ago, but I also keep reminding myself that I made it once before and can make it again if I have to. It’s how I feel about winter. Somehow I will survive.

Me and Gloria Gaynor.

I’m always amazed at how life continues even when you’re sick. No matter how bad things are, you can almost always manage to get yourself dressed, talk to the people you love, go to the bathroom. Maybe not in that order. This morning I met my aunt, my cousins, and their significant others for breakfast. And whereas I was subdued, it was delightful. Much better than staying in bed blowing my nose. Along those lines–everyone, I’m sorry for that one time I coughed on the table. I couldn’t help it.

After breakfast my aunt and I visited back at her house, then I hit the road. Well, first I stopped for more probiotics to hopefully help my sinus junk. Honestly, I’m about to get tired of trying things, but my experience has taught me that this crud doesn’t go away on its own. Of course, I’m open to being surprised. If anyone with any authority is listening, I’m down for a miracle.

One of the things my aunt and I discussed was the ways therapy and daily blogging have benefitted me for the better. And whereas I could go on and on (and often do) about how much my life has been positively transformed by both of these things, suffice it to say that–in a nutshell, I’m kinder to myself. What I mean is that when I got that mother of a sinus infection over a year ago, on some level, I blamed myself. I thought I should be able to fix it, if I were good enough, smart enough. Thankfully, this time around, a lot of that is gone. Is it gone completely? Of course not. Old patterns die hard. But consistent self-reflection and self-soothing does make a difference. This evening I’ve been tired, overwhelmed, and irritated, and I don’t blame myself for any of that. My body is sick. It can’t help it. The air is getting colder. It’s time to slow down.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Things that shine do better when they're scattered about."

The Last Word (Blog #925)

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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)

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In this moment, we are all okay.

"

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

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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)

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It’s hard to say where a kindness begins or ends.

"

Be Here Now (Blog #920)

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Every day for the last week I’ve talked about having a sinus infection. And whereas I wish I could say that I’ve been healed (and therefore talk about something else), I haven’t been. Despite the fact that I’ve tried most everything I know to do, nothing has worked. Last night I saw mild improvement but still ended up coughing myself to sleep. Today has been more of the same–gross. Honestly, I’m not sure that what I have IS a sinus infection. Maybe it’s a cold. Maybe it’s allergies. Dad says ragweed is higher than it’s ever been. Although last year I was tested for over fifty allergens including ragweed and didn’t react to a single one of them.

Take that, ragweed. You can’t get a reaction out of me.

Rather than being my usual take-charge self and flitting all over Van Buren and the internet in search of an immediate cure, I’ve spent most of today watching Netflix–in bed, in a chair, on the floor. In the last twenty-four hours I’ve watched four movies or documentaries. I’ve also done some reading. And some laundry. I’ve really tried to take it easy. To just be frickin’ sick and stop trying so hard. To stop being afraid of what might happen if I don’t. If I let go.

This is really hard for me to do.

It’s tough to know when to try and when not to try. For example, if I had’t scoured the internet for home remedies a year and a half ago, I never would have learned about the probiotic that’s been so helpful to my sinuses. But there’s obviously a point when it’s best to call uncle, to let your body rest and decide what’s best. Even if that means being sick.

One of the documentaries I watched this afternoon was called Be Here Now: The Andy Whitfield Story. Andy was the star of the television series Spartacus: Blood and Sand. This means at one point he was strong, healthy, and looked great in a loincloth. However, when he was in his late thirties, before the second season of Spartacus could begin, Andy was diagnosed with cancer. And although he underwent chemotherapy and radiation and even traveled the globe to supplement his treatments with Ayurveda, acupuncture, and yoga, he eventually died, leaving his wife and two small children behind.

The documentary mostly features Andy and his wife discussing their journey with cancer. And whereas for a year or two they were both convinced that he’d overcome his disease, there’s a point at which Andy starts thinking he won’t. The chemotherapy’s not working, the radiation’s not either, and the cancer keeps spreading. Andy says, “I finally thought, Maybe this is it for me, and it was a relief, to stop fighting.” His wife says, “I kept thinking that I needed the cancer to be over so we could get on with our life, but the cancer is our life right here, right now.”

Wow. How many of us think that our life will really start when? When we get over our illness. When we meet a lover. When our ship comes in. I know I think this on almost a daily basis. And whereas I hope many of my dreams will come true, even if they do, they’re simply fantasies now; they’re not my life. Now my life is living with my parents. It’s going to therapy and writing this blog. It’s getting a sinus infection (or cold) now and then. So I’m trying to remind myself that it’s up to me whether or not I embrace these things, whether or not I make the most of them, whether or not I choose to–as Andy had tattooed on his forearm–be here now.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Nothing physical was ever meant to stay the same.

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On Bitching and Mitching (Blog #919)

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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)

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All great heroes, at some point, surrender to the unknown.

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