The Missing Piece (Blog #759)

Well crap. Earlier tonight I finished the puzzle I’ve been working on, the puzzle I technically started several months ago. And whereas I’m done, IT’S MISSING A PIECE. That’s frickin’ right–there are SUPPOSED to be 1,000 pieces, but there are only 999. What the hell? If you look at the picture above (the image is of a famous painting–The Birth of Venus by Botticelli), there’s a big gaping hole (the size of a puzzle piece) in the lady on the right’s abdomen.

I can’t tell you how much this upsets me. (But don’t worry, I’ll try to.)

Chances are, I lost the final piece. Or maybe someone else did. Since I’ve had the puzzle out, it has been moved around a few times, and someone (including me) could have bumped it and knocked the piece to the floor. From there, as my dad pointed out, our dog could have eaten it. Who knows what happened? But I’ve combed the floors and looked everywhere including the vacuum cleaner bag and can’t find it. I keep hoping it will just materialize. So far, it hasn’t. This is driving my inner perfectionist bonkers.

I need to talk about something else.

This afternoon I finished house sitting, but before I did, I took my friend’s dog for walk. Y’all, for the last four days I’ve been following that little pup around and picking up its poop with little plastic baggies–because that’s what I was asked to do, because it’s courteous to pick up your dog’s poop when it shits in your neighbor’s yard. But get this (shit). While walking today I noticed NOT EVERYONE DOES THIS. That is, twice (twice!) I spotted dog poop in other people’s front yards, which means SOME PEOPLE are obviously out walking their dogs and not cleaning up after them. In my opinion, this is the dog-walking equivalent of guys who dart out of public restrooms without washing their hands. (This unfortunately happens a lot, ladies.) Oh well, we all make choices. What’s right and decent and sanitary for one person isn’t for the next. (For evidence of this, just look around.)

When I got home from house sitting, my dad and I went to the gym and I ran on the treadmill. Y’all, I hit a personal milestone, at least since having knee surgery four months ago–I ran for a solid hour! Not crazy fast, mind you–I totaled 4.5 miles–but I broke a serious sweat. But again, I ran for a solid hour!

Go legs.

Recently my chiropractor referred to me (my body) as a wreck. This was said in good humor, since have a lot of (physical) issues–my hips, my shoulder, my neck. At the same time, I’ve been thinking the last few days that I don’t like the idea of thinking of myself as a wreck or broken. Never mind the fact that someone else said it. I’ve said it a lot. I’ve thought, I’ve got these pains, and they’ll never go away. I’m a mess. But I don’t want to think that anymore. I don’t want to believe that anymore. Because, deep down, I believe my body is smart, I believe there are answers available, and I believe healing is possible. Plus, it feels better to refer to my body in my self-talk as wise rather than ignorant or stupid. I imagine my body would like that too.

I mean, how would you feel if someone talked to you like that day-in and day-out?

Okay, back to the puzzle. It’s still driving my inner perfectionist crazy, but I’ve calmed down a little. After I realized I was missing a piece, I started thinking about how much I’ve been looking forward to that final moment of completion. Like, Awe, I did it–a thousand pieces. And yet that moment never came. So then I had to remind myself that despite the fact that I never got THAT feeling of satisfaction, it’s not like I haven’t had hundreds of other moments of satisfaction along the way. That is, I’ve had fun putting the other 999 pieces together. Ugh, so often I focus on the what’s wrong–a little pile of dog shit, a pain in my hip, the guy who didn’t wash his hands!–rather than what’s right. So often I focus on the missing piece instead of the whole puzzle.

I blame my inner perfectionist for this and am working on it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We’re all made of the same stuff.

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On Starting to Believe (Blog #755)

Today’s (and some of yesterday’s) thoughts–

1. On families

Recently my mom came into my room while I was lying on my bed, like I am now. “Wow,” she said. “You look so much like my dad.” (Grandpa died nearly twenty years ago.) Then she just stood there for a minute, taking it in, I guess. And whereas it was slightly weird for me in the moment to be compared to someone else, later I felt really proud. Not that he didn’t have his problems, but Grandpa was a good man, so I’m glad to look like him. I know my mom loved him a lot. Anyway, it’s cool to think about how our ancestors not only give us life but are also still with us in some way, how they leave their mark, both physically and emotionally. More and more, I’m grateful for this unseen connection.

2. On being famous

Yesterday I bought a copy of the spring issue of Bass Angler Magazine. This is something I never thought I’d do ever–buy a fishing magazine–but I did because get this shit. Remember last fall when I traveled to the Upper Cumberland region of Tennessee for a travel writing job? Well, my friend and fellow journalist Jill was there for the same reason, and she ended up writing an article for Bass Angler about the area and places a person could go fishing–and used three photos with me in them!

So I’m pretty much famous now.

3. On fine tuning

Last night and this morning I made more progress on the puzzle I’ve been working on. Last night one of the sections I worked on was all water–just different shades of blue and green. At first I thought, I’ll never get this. All the pieces look the same. But then as I took a closer look, I could distinguish several differences in the shading and shadows. Today after I took the below picture I noticed one of the pieces I’d connected didn’t go where I put it. I thought, Wait a damn minute. You don’t belong there.

This made me think of writing, the way once I get a general idea of what’s going on with a piece I’m working on, then I can tweak and fine tune it. Likewise, it made me think of my relationships and how I interact in the world. This afternoon I read a book that said we’re allowed to play around with our emotions and how we respond to and act on them. So often we get stuck in patterns of behavior–the big picture–we think, this is who I am–but it’s not like we’re set in stone. We can take a closer look at thing, maybe see something we didn’t see before. We can say, No wait, this doesn’t fit here, in this situation.

That is to say, we can change.

4. On bodies

Speaking of being set in stone, today I listened to an interview with David Berceli about how the body responds to trauma. I’ve mentioned David’s work before, here. In today’s interview, David said that our bodies are designed to survive, and that if we’re somehow threatened and can’t fight or flee, we’ll otherwise freeze. That is, our bodies will physically contract, as if into a ball. This applies whether someone throws a rock at us or we’re in a car accident. The good news is that this is how our bodies shield us from harm. The bad news is that sometimes they stay contracted even after a particular threat or trauma is over. Think of any tight muscles you may have in your hips or neck. It’s not that your body can’t relax, it’s just that it hasn’t gotten the message that it’s okay to yet.

One of my takeaways from this interview is that our bodies are always trying to protect us. So often I get frustrated with my tight hips and shoulders, but it helps to think that perhaps they’re tight because my body is trying to help me rather than hurt me. At least at one time, this was the best my body could do. And this is a message I keep getting over and over again, that our bodies are on our side. And whereas I’ve been slow to come around to this idea–it’s much easier to think that my body is the exception to the rule–I’m starting to believe it, that not only is my body on my side, but that it’s also smart enough to heal itself, to heal us.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You've really got to believe in yourself and what you're doing. Again, it comes down to integrity and making something solid of yourself, something that's so well-built on the inside that it can handle any storm.

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On Emotions and Pain (Blog #751)

Currently I’m out-of-town, sitting outside at a restaurant, waiting for a dance to start at 7:30. It’s 6:00 now. I plan on driving home after the dance, and because that will be late, I’m blogging now, before the sun has gone down. I’d like to start doing this more often, blogging when I’m coherent and not exhausted and, therefore, irritable, upset, and distracted. We’ll see how it goes. I have a lot of practice blogging during the wee morning hours, and there’s certainly something to be said for writing a blog about your emotions when you’re, well, emotional.

I’ve been emotional all day. One minute I’ve been sad. Lonely. The next I’ve been laughing out loud, totally content to have the day to myself. Recently I adopted the motto “all parts are welcome,” so I guess I can’t complain when different parts (or thoughts or emotions) show up. That is, far be it from me to host a party and not attend to my guests. Not that it’s fun or comfortable to feel upset or grief, but these are the ingredients of our lives, and–in my experience–if you dampen one emotion, you dampen them all. Want to feel less joy? Shove down your sadness. It’s that simple.

I don’t like this fact any more than you do.

I spent this afternoon looking at books. I didn’t buy any (believe it or not), but I went to three stores. Before that I had brunch (pancakes and eggs) and read a book. Well, half of one–Explain Pain by David S. Butler and G. Lorimer Moseley. Honestly, it’s one of the most fascinating things I’ve read lately and explains a complex topic–pain–simply. I’m not to the “what to do about it” part yet, but the book proposes that whereas, yes, sometimes pain is due to nerve damage, structural or joint problems, or damaged tissue, this is just as often (if not more so) not the case. That is, there are plenty of instances in which there’s structural deterioration or injured tissue without pain. For example, when I tore my ACL, I didn’t feel a thing. Granted, I had some adrenaline flowing, but my knee didn’t hurt even after my adrenaline calmed down. Even though I’d severed an entire ligament.

The book says we don’t have pain centers or, um, pain buttons in our bodies. Also, just because you cut your finger, that doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll experience pain. Indeed, once my neighbor threw a hammer over our fence, and despite the fact that it hit my head, I didn’t start crying until I saw blood several seconds later. According to the book, this is because the meaning we ascribe things has a huge influence over what our bodies feel. Just as importantly, the meaning our brains ascribe things is what ultimately determines whether or not we feel pain. This is because–apparently–our bodies send signals to the brain when “something” is wrong. A cut finger, for example. Then the brain interprets that information and decides how to respond. To be clear, it has a lot of choices. It could cause you run away; it could cause you to cry. But if the brain thinks that the most appropriate choice is for you to feel pain, then that’s what you’ll feel.

In other words, to quote the book–no brain, no pain.

The book says that the basic rule of pain is that if your brain perceives a threat–if it thinks that you’re in danger, Will Robinson–you’ll feel pain. Said another way, if you feel pain, it’s because your brain thinks you’re in danger. This goes against a lot of historic wisdom, of course, but it makes sense to me. Again, because of what I experienced with my knee. Also because of people who experience pain or sensations in limbs they’ve had cut off or were never born with. Clearly in those situations the brain (and spinal cord and nervous system) are involved in the creation of physical sensation and/or pain.

I can’t wait to learn more.

This might be a stretch, but I think this “pain being related to feeling threatened” thing could be applied to our emotions. For example, this morning while getting ready at my hotel, I was dialoguing with myself about why I’ve historically felt the need to bend over backwards for certain people in my life even when my efforts were clearly fruitless. Suddenly I had a vision of an applicable memory from my childhood, and a voice in my head said, “Because if we don’t, they won’t love us.” Then I started crying. More and more, the release of tears is my signal that I’ve hit on something deep-down true. For example, when I read that pain is often felt because we feel threatened or “not safe,” I also cried.

Ugh. So much of my life I’ve felt “not safe.” Not that I feel ever-moment terrified, but I can never quite relax. It’s like my muscles are always tight, more tense than they need to be, ready to fight or flee. I can only breathe so deep. Granted, this has gotten a lot better. It IS GETTING a lot better. More and more, there’s a lot of relief in understanding that even when it’s emotional or in pain, my body is trying to help, trying to send me a message. Sweetheart, something is wrong. We need you to take another look at this. Something isn’t working for us. So if for no other reason than the fact that my strategies thus far haven’t been working for me either, I’m now making all the more gentle effort to turn my ear inward and simply listen, to finally hear and connect with my inner wisdom.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Go easier on yourself.

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On Constriction and My Inner Critic (Blog #746)

Today there wasn’t a damn thing I had to do. Not an errand to run, not an appointment to keep. Tomorrow, on the other hand, is chock-full of to-do items. But not today. Nope, I slept in then did whatever the hell I wanted, whenever I wanted to do it. I don’t say this to brag–look at me, I don’t have a schedule–but rather in appreciation. Often I bemoan the lack of structure in my life–no regular job, no regular paycheck, woe is me. But today, as much as ever, I realized that I’m grateful for this period of my life. As I’ve said before (and talk about every day, every damn day), I’m learning a lot, growing a lot, healing a lot. This is both important and huge and wouldn’t be possible–I don’t imagine–if I were involved in the fast-paced rat race.

It seems learning, growing, and healing all require slowing down.

This afternoon I worked more on a puzzle I recently picked back up. I’d started it with my sister back in December. I can’t tell you how much fun I’m having, seeing the whole thing come together. Not that I’m anywhere near the end, but I can see progress. It too is slow-going, literally one piece at a time.

While working on the puzzle, I listened to a podcast/talk about trauma and healing by Judith Blackstone. It was just a teaser of her work and I’d like to check out more, but it was fascinating. According to her, one of the ways in which our bodies respond to trauma is by constricting. Constriction, she says, is often the only method through which we are able to either control a situation (or ourselves) or create a defense to a threat. For example, if you were told as a child to shut up, your body might constrict or tighten up somewhere around your throat. Or if you were spanked or abused, your body might constrict around your hips.

This last weekend I started reading a book about Internal Family Systems (IFS). I mentioned IFS two days ago, but the idea is that all of us have a sundry of “parts” that make up our thoughts and emotions. The example I used before was that I have parts that are critical. I also have parts that feel ashamed, vulnerable, and less than, and parts that feel proud, confident, and angry. The book I’m reading, by Richard C. Schwartz, points out that our parts are often in opposition to each other, that one part may not like another. This explains why one minute you can think it’s a good idea to eat chocolate cake, and the next minute you’re beating yourself up for actually eating it. Like, maybe your inner child said to eat it, then your parent (or inner critic) punished you for doing so.

Can’t we all just get along?

My therapist and I have discussed this idea in different terms. She says our mind is like a banquet with many guests. And whereas all guests are welcome, not every guest should get to sit at the table. Something I’ve said before is that my inner critic is welcome in the room, but he doesn’t get to run the show. Marcus at the Head of the Table gets to run the show. However, as I’ve been reviewing this way of looking at things the last few days, I’ve realized that although I’ve said (and thought) that all guests are welcome, I really don’t act like it. Rather, I ignore a lot of my “guests” and do my best to banish them against the wall or out of the room altogether. Like, shut up, you’re not important. But the book I’m reading says every part is important. And whereas they don’t have to run the show, they do want and need to be heard.

An exercise the book suggested was to pick a part, any part, and dialogue with it. Like, Hey, what’s your deal, inner critic? Why are you so critical? I’d really like to know. So that’s what I did this afternoon. I talked to my inner critic. I’ll spare you the details (they’re personal), but basically my inner critic said it felt like it HAD to be critical because my inner child was too trusting and had been hurt or taken advantage of in the past. And whereas this might sound like a bunch of bullshit, I ended up crying when my inner critic said, “It hurts to be this uptight all the time.” So I don’t think it’s bullshit. Plus, for the rest of the day I’ve felt better–less constricted–like, um, part of me loosened up.

Personally, I wish that all my parts would loosen up or let go all at once. BAM, we’re healed. Of course, this wouldn’t be healthy. Nobody (no body) constricts overnight, and nobody (no body) un-constricts overnight. Healing is a circuitous journey. It’s one piece at a time. And whereas I used to think I’d never heal, more and more I believe that I will. Not that “healed” is a destination you can arrive at. We’re always healing something. But I do think longstanding problems can be resolved or at least vastly improved. In my experience, this starts with accepting yourself. That is, it starts with accepting all parts of yourself, especially the parts you may find embarrassing or wrong. It starts with getting quiet and saying, Sweetheart, I’m here for you. Talk to me. I’m finally listening.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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A mantra: Not an asshole, not a doormat.

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On Swerving (Blog #733)

It’s five-thirty in the evening, and I’m house sitting/dog sitting for a friend who lives slightly off the beaten path. It’s gorgeous here–quiet, peaceful. When I arrived over an hour ago, I was still in GO mode. I thought, I need to DO something, so I unpacked, made sure I knew where to find the dog food. But then I thought, Shit, I’m free. I can relax. So I turned on my music, poured a cup of hot tea, and moved my ass to the front porch. Thats’ where I am now. The sun is going down. There’s a slight breeze. There’s less tension than before.

This morning I saw my therapist. She’s just about the only person I’d wake up before noon for. To start our session, I read her blog #730, which I wrote this last Saturday and was the final blog for year number two of Me and My Therapist. In short, it’s about my beginning to own my strengths, give myself credit, and go easier on myself. My therapist acknowledged my progress. “It’s like your learning to ride a bike,” she said. “You’re up for sure, just swerving a little, finding your balance.” Yes, finding my balance.

I can do this.

This afternoon I saw my physical therapist. I use that as a generic term, since there are several therapists who work together in the office I go to, and they all switch off. It’s like tag-team healing. Anyway, today I got a new girl, an intern. I guess she’s currently in physical therapy school and will graduate next month. And whereas I’ve been impressed with the other therapists I’ve worked with since having knee surgery last December, I was completely impressed with her. Y’all, she was a total hard ass, constantly correcting my form and making me do things the correct way. “I’m picky,” she said, half apologizing. (Sorry, not sorry.) “It’s okay,” I said, thinking of how absolutely picky I can be with my dance students. “I need to do this right, so I can do what I want to do later.”

One of the things she corrected was how I both climb and descend stairs using my left leg (the injured one). As it turns out, in both cases, I was using my right leg A LOT to compensate without realizing it. This, of course, has been creating imbalances and keeping my left leg weak. No more of that. “I’d rather you not use that leg when going up or down stairs than use it and do it wrong,” she said. So now I have homework, which includes some new stretches to loosen up my quads and an exercise where I have to get myself out of a chair using only mostly my left leg (without pushing with my right leg or my arms–much). You should see me try this.

It’s that swerving thing again.

Honestly, despite the fact that I’m glad this girl was picky, this news about my doing things wrong for the last three months was frustrating. Why didn’t someone tell me sooner? My therapist says, unfortunately, a lot of people “phone it in” at work. Maybe they got lazy. Or maybe they didn’t have the knowledge. But you’d think they should have the knowledge, considering what they charge. What the hell ever, at least I know now. We press on.

The visible mirrors the invisible.

It seems that in both my internal and external lives, I’m serving, working to find balance. Funny how the visible mirrors the invisible. I imagine this is often the case, that our bodies and even the entire universe conspire to heal us, to keep us from swerving all over the road of life and find that sweet, steady, balanced spot that feels like home. And perhaps swerving and even falling down now and then are necessary. After all, life’s road is anything but smooth. We’re bound to hit some bumps along the way. And surely these bumps create contrast and remind us that we can rebuild ourselves, that we can fall down and stand back up again stronger, freer.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Boundaries are about starting small, enjoying initial successes, and practicing until you get your relationships like you want them. 

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On Being in Touch with Your Emotions (Blog #723)

Yesterday I blogged that I was going to give myself the weekend to be sick, that I’d wait until Monday before trying to “mount a defense.” Or anything else given how little energy I had. (That was a sex joke, Mom.) That didn’t happen. After I posted the blog, I went to the website where I first heard about the probiotic (L. Sakei) that I’ve used half a dozen times to banish my sinus infections. There I read that if the probiotic previously worked for you but hasn’t lately, it can be because your body has acclimated to it. Switch it up, the site said. If you’ve been using the powder, try kimchi (fermented cabbage), or vice versa. Or take a regular probiotic capsule, break it open in you mouth, and swish the contents around.

In short, do what you gotta do to get your sinus flora back on track.

About midnight, hopeful, I went to Walmart. There I picked up the cheapest probiotic I could find ($10 for 8 strains and 14 billion active cultures) and a jar of kimchi ($6). On my way to the cash register I decided, Even if this doesn’t work, I’ll go shopping for another product tomorrow. If I have to drop a hundred bucks to find something that works, it’ll be better than being completely wiped out and congested. Back at the house, I started with the probiotic–broke it open, swished it around in my mouth. (Apparently the critters can crawl into your sinuses from your throat, but there’s no evidence they can make it up there from your stomach.) Then I poured some kimchi juice into a small glass, dipped my pinky into it, and swabbed my nostrils; then I gargled and swallowed what was left.

Fingers crossed, I thought.

An hour later, while lying in bed watching old episodes of Soap, I thought, I think I feel better. Still, I wasn’t sure. After all, wishful thinking is a real thing. But two hours later when I was wide awake and couldn’t sleep to save my life, I was certain I had more energy. Yes, I was coming back online. Two hours after that, at five in the morning, my congestion cleared. About six, I finally fell asleep. Thankfully, I’ve felt better all day. My nose has been a little snotty, but I’ve had more energy and haven’t hacked up anything disgusting. This morning I reapplied last night’s treatment and will do so again shortly. Here’s hoping it continues to do the trick.

I know I’ve been talking about this a lot lately and am beginning to sound like The Boy Who Cried My Sinuses Are Healed. Over the last three weeks, I’ve woken up sick/woken up better so many times it’s not even funny. The way I see it, my sinuses are simply having a hard time finding their balance. Still, I’m grateful they’re trying. I’m also grateful there are websites like the ones I mentioned earlier, that people like me have shared their experiences of what works and what doesn’t. Plus, I’m getting to see what a wonder the body is. For years I took antibiotics for sinus infections, and–at best–I’d see improvement in two days. One if I took steroids also. But last night I felt a dramatic shift in only five hours.

Color me amazed!

Of course, I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. But–

No one ever knows what’s going to happen tomorrow.

Today I heard Steve Martin quote Herbert Ross as saying, “Anger has a thousand faces.” For context, Martin was talking about acting, about how some actors–unfortunately–do what’s called “indicating,” which would be, say, smiling like a damn fool to let the audience know your character is happy or shouting (OR TYPING IN ALL CAPITAL LETTERS) to let them know you’re angry. But obviously, these aren’t the only faces these emotions have. We’ve all seen talented actors, or even friends and family, be terse, frustrated, sarcastic, quiet, or overly nice, and thought, Oh shit, they’re about to blow their top. In Martin’s words, “Emotions come out so convoluted.”

I’ve been chewing on this statement all day. Emotions come out so convoluted. First, is that true or what? Second, I think it’s funny that we can quickly and accurately pick up on the subtle emotions of actors and other people, but that we’re often oblivious to what’s going on within ourselves. For example, for years I told myself that I wasn’t bothered by other people’s poor or rude behavior and that I didn’t mind bending over backwards to help people who were (from my current viewpoint) obviously taking advantage of me. But since starting therapy five years ago, I’ve gotten very clear about the fact that, indeed, I was bothered. More specifically, and quite rightly, I was angry–PISSED OFF!–about a number of relationships and situations in my life.

“Better to be pissed off than pissed on,” my dad always says.

When you stand in your truth, you’re often standing alone.

Thankfully, I’ve made a lot of headway in recognizing and doing something about my emotions. Because that’s the deal, that’s why we cover them up–once you recognize them, you’ve got to do something about them. And that means setting boundaries, and THAT means changing relationships. And that’s not always fun. Which is why, I think, we shove down and shut off our emotions. Because we don’t really want to feel and respond to them. We don’t want to deal with the fall out. The fall out of standing in your truth. Because when you stand in your truth, you’re often standing alone. And nobody wants to be alone. So we put up with more crap than we have to.

I’ve said before that one of the “benefits” to being sick with sinus infections is that it’s given me an opportunity to feel frustrated and vulnerable. And not that I think I get sinus infections strictly because I’ve shoved those feelings down for twenty years, but I think that plays a part. I think sinus infections could be “a face” of my emotions. But lately I’ve been working on welcoming all my emotions, on really feeling them so they don’t have to come out all convoluted. Sinus infections aside, I don’t like my anger coming out as passive aggressiveness or upset stomachs. At least primarily. I’d rather have it come out as an honest conversation. I have a problem. This isn’t working for me anymore. Fuck off, Alice.

Your emotions are your truth.

Recently someone offered me a job opportunity–for experience, not money. And whereas part of me knew I didn’t want to do it (because I’m worth what I charge), another part of me felt beholden to the person who was offering. But after discussing the situation with my therapist, it became clear that my first loyalty is always to my inner self, not someone else’s outer self. This has been one of the biggest benefits of going to therapy–it’s helped me get clear about what I want and don’t want. It’s put me back in touch with my truth. Not that I didn’t have my truth before, I just wasn’t in touch with it. You CAN’T be in touch with your truth when you’re not in touch with your emotions; your emotions ARE your truth.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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if you're content with yourself and you're always with yourself, then what's the problem?

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Despite the Plague (Blog #722)

Last night, before my dad and I went to the gym, I wrote about how my friend Marla said I was “very loyal” to this blog and how the worst thing a person could do would be tie me up in a room and keep me from posting for a day. I said, “NOOOOOO.” Then, for the first time since starting this blog almost two years ago, I forgot to hit “publish.” Ironic, I know. This morning Marla wrote and said, “I can’t find yesterday’s blog. Did someone kidnap you?” Thankfully, I told her, no. And I did write. I just spaced out and forgot to share it.

But I did share it this morning, and here it is.

For the last three weeks, I’ve had an off-and-on sinus infection. A couple days ago, I felt like a million bucks and was sure I had it beat. But then this morning I woke up full-blown sick with all the mucus. (And I didn’t even eat dairy yesterday.) Despite all my tricks and potions, I’ve continued to feel sick all day–tired, gross, disgusting. Additionally, my head hurts. It’s like the skin around my skull has shrunk, is shrinking. I’m doing my best not to whine here. These are just the facts.

Excuse me while I hack up a lung.

Despite The Plague, it’s been a pleasant day. Like, no one has died (that I know of). Actually, this morning my mom got some good news about her heart. A recent echocardiogram showed a potential problem, but today she found out it was “moderate” and not “severe.” As I understand it, this means medication and not surgery. So that’s good. Then this afternoon I did some writing research, which was fun, and my family and I went out to Western Sizzlin’ (giddy up), which was tasty. Then I took a nap and watched several episodes of Soap, an old sitcom I’ve been into lately that starred Katherine Helmond and Billy Crystal. Crystal’s role, Jodie Dallas, was television’s first openly gay character. Anyway, I laughed out loud tonight when one of the characters, Burt, a real ham, stuck his hand directly in a chocolate cake because he thought there might be a bomb in it. Perhaps you would have had to have been there. But my point is–you can be sick without being miserable.

Not that this is an easy thing to do. All day, when I haven’t been distracted, I’ve been worried that this sinus infection will never go away. That all the things I’ve been doing have just pissed it off and that it will never get better. Today my aunt said, “Have you tried a neti pot?” Oh my god, have I tried a neti pot! A thousand times I’ve tried a neti pot. This is the deal when I’m sick. It feels like I’ve TRIED EVERYTHING and that NOTHING WORKS. Of course, I know this isn’t true. After all, this is a big world with lots of solutions, and I’ve stumbled across some wonders before. So we’ll see what happens. My current plan is to give myself the weekend to be sick and gross. If I don’t improve, I can come up with a plan next week. I’m telling myself–

You don’t have to mount a defense this very instant.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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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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Sometimes you have to give up wanting something before you can have it.

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With Practice (Blog #715)

Praise the sweet baby Jesus. After feeling like crap for the last few days, as of this morning–and I do mean morning–I feel better. Once again, the credit goes to the miraculous probiotic/bacteria L. Sakei, which I received a new batch of in the mail yesterday afternoon and used three times before going to bed last night. No shit, y’all, I woke up at four this morning bright-eyed and ready to go. I eventually fell back asleep, but talk about getting your energy back. The previous two nights I woke up hot and sweaty. But as of four, I’ve been back to my normal-temperature self. Fingers crossed this trend continues.

This afternoon I went to Fort Smith to see my chiropractor and massage therapist, as well as to return a pair of crutches I borrowed from a friend over three months ago when I injured my left knee. Boy, did giving those suckers back feel good. For nearly a month I needed them to traverse even the shortest of distances, but this evening when I went to the gym, I was able to jog on the treadmill for twenty minutes, unassisted! (I mean, crutches on a treadmill would be totally awkward.) But, eeek, I really have come a long way. That being said, I may have overdone it on the treadmill. My knee was a bit swollen when I got home, so I had to ice it. Oh well, I guess it’s normal to have little setbacks.

Little setbacks. That’s what I consider the sinus infections that have creeped up on me lately. And whereas part of me is frustrated that I’ve had to deal with them at all, another part of me is thrilled because what used to last anywhere from seven to fourteen days (or more) is now over in forty-eight to seventy-two hours. Plus, my former sinus infections often involved doctors, prescriptions, and multiple swipes of my credit card. But now I’m knocking these things out from the privacy of my own home for a mere thirty-five bucks (the cost of the probiotic) or less (if I have some of the product left over). So maybe my sinuses aren’t perfectly healed or “normal” like everyone else’s (whatever that means), but THIS IS HUGE PROGRESS.

HUGE.

Whenever I have a health setback, I’m reminded what a blessing good health is. This afternoon when I dropped the crutches off I borrowed, my friend and her husband and I visited for over an hour and a half. Not once was there an awkward pause or did I think, I wonder what we’ll talk about next. Rather, we laughed and laughed. Seriously, it was one of the best times I’ve had lately. All thanks–I kind of hate to admit–to my hurting my knee.

So you know, silver linings.

But really, when you’ve been sick and finally feel better, there’s so much joy in the simplest of things–visiting with friends, going to the gym, watching a television program (which I did before starting tonight’s blog). It’s like, Hey, I feel good. I’m ALIVE. What can I do now?

After having sinus infections for decades and finally finding something that works, what I can say is that “it gets easier.” What I mean is that–apparently–it’s not that I’m never going to get a sinus infection again. But having done the hard work in terms of seeing doctors and doing no small amount of internet research, I now know what to do about them. Likewise, I know what to do when it comes to my knee rehab. Again, not that it’s fun or pleasant, but it’s less intimidating than it was when it first happened because I’ve walked–or more accurately hopped, lurched, and scooted–this road before. This thought applies to the work I’ve done in therapy too. Over the last five years, I’ve gotten a lot of practice setting boundaries, having confrontations, speaking my truth, and listening to my gut. And whereas I wish I never had to have a difficult talk ever again, that’s not realistic. But since I’ve done it before, I know I can do it again. Indeed, with practice, anything gets easier.

Want something to get easier? You know what to do.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You've really got to believe in yourself and what you're doing. Again, it comes down to integrity and making something solid of yourself, something that's so well-built on the inside that it can handle any storm.

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On Cutting Your Losses (Blog #714)

A few weeks ago I filled a small bowl full of water and pink Himalayan sea salt so I could dip my elbow in it. I read online it could help psoriasis. Laugh if you want to, but the psoriasis on my elbow went away. Granted, I was trying a number of things–when it comes to my health I like the shotgun approach–but who’s to say the pink sea salt didn’t help? Anyway, since the problem disappeared, that little bowl of salt water has simply sat on my bathroom counter. Well, I guess the water evaporated, and, y’all, the coolest thing happened. The salt deposited itself around the inside and outside of the bowl like frosting. And whereas it’s just a minor thing, I think it’s beautiful, this little art project that slowly and steadily took shape.

Slowly and steadily, that seems to be a theme for me lately, in terms of my writing, in terms of my knee rehab, and more. Ugh. Things take forever here on earth. Nothing happens as fast as you want it to. So many days it feels like you’re going nowhere. But then one day you wake up and your psoriasis is gone or there’s gorgeous salt-covered bowl in your bathroom. You think, I’ll be damned. When did THAT happen?

When I woke up this morning, I felt like crud. My sinus junk was as bad as it’s been in over a year. But then I got up, got around, and took a shower and felt better, almost human. A fresh batch of the probiotic powder (L. Sakei) that’s always helped in the past arrived in the mail today, so I’m hoping it will help turn things around over the next day or two. If it doesn’t, I don’t know what I’ll do. Probably cry. I’m trying to not think about it, to just take this one day at a time. I’ll let you know how it goes.

This afternoon a small miracle occurred. A couple weeks ago I started reading a 700-page book about neuroscience and why humans behave the way they do. I got through about a hundred pages. And whereas I found the information interesting, I also found it laborious. Then today when I picked the book back up, despite my best efforts to concentrate, my eyes kept glossing over. I thought, This is so fucking boring. Why would I want to slug through 600 more pages of this crap? So I put it down–for good. That’s right, I gave myself permission to not complete something–not by default but on purpose. This is huge, as I tend to hold a certain amount of guilt over books I didn’t finish years ago. (I can still see their covers in my head.) But seriously, if the author couldn’t make their topic interesting in a hundred freakin’ pages, I can’t take all the blame for being bored and wanting to do something else with my life.

After I put the book away (be gone, boring book!) I started another one by Bill Bryson, about Australia. My friend and fellow writer Tom told me about it. Holy crap, y’all, I was laughing out loud within the first five pages. Then a movie stub fell out of the back of the book that was dated September 13, my birthday. So between the laughter and this coincidence, I thought, Okay, I’ve made the right decision. Of course, I didn’t need these “signs” to let me know that. My gut had been barking at me for the last twenty pages of that boring book to put it down. But I kept thinking, I’ve already started. I should finish this.

Bullshit.

Sometimes you just have to walk away. My mom did this today while on hold with some company. After fifteen minutes of waiting, she hung up. “That’s enough,” she said. And whereas part of me was appalled (because you should finish what you started), another part of me was in awe. After all, I’d never suggest that someone stay in a bad relationship simply because they’ve invested so much time in it. I’d say, “Cut your losses, get the hell out.” So why can’t that wisdom be applied to any bad relationship–with a book, a phone call, whatever?

Be gone, bad relationship!

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Abundance is a lot like gravity--it's everywhere.

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