Boys, Frosting, Food, and Clothing (Blog #705)

Today has been fabulous and makes me glad to be alive. I can’t say why it’s been fabulous exactly, but I’ll try. This morning I woke up early, like eight-thirty, and began the day in quiet and solitude. This suites my personality, a slow, hushed start and a healthy breakfast. The menu today: scrambled eggs with turkey, spinach, and green onions; a side of pineapple; and hot lungwort tea. Lungwort’s supposed to be good for your lungs and decreasing mucus. Personally, I just like the way it sounds–lungwort. It’s so–medieval. I feel like a wizard every time I say it.

The reason I got up early was to see my therapists. Yes, I have more than one. It takes a village. First I saw my mental health therapist, the one this blog is named in honor of, my shrink. A few months ago I had a dream about a giant snake in a swamp, and recently I had another dream about a giant snake on land. The second snake tried to bite me, and I was terrified but ended up controlling it. When I told my therapist about these dreams, she said, “What do you think of snakes?” I said, “I think they’re strong and powerful.” Then she said, “Then that’s you. You’re the snake–you’re strong and powerful,” which made me want to cry. Weird how we don’t want to recognize our own best qualities, how we’re afraid of ourselves.

My therapist and I also talked about my future. I’ve been thinking lately I should get into an additional writing routine, force myself into a chair and bang my head against the table until a book falls out. My therapist, however, suggested that I don’t do anything until we talk again. “Reduce yourself,” she said. “Give yourself a break.” Then she added, “In the meantime, think about boys, frosting, food, and clothing.” So that’s what I did the rest of the day. First I ate a cream cheese bagel, then (after physical therapy) went shopping for clothes. And whereas I didn’t buy anything, I had a wonderful time looking. Well wait, I bought a new tape measure at the hardware store because my old tape measure broke recently. Anyway, the point is that I did NOT think about my future, even while I was eating a brownie tonight.

I’d like to emphasize I only ate the brownie because, well, doctor’s order’s, and I try to be a good patient.

At physical therapy, I got to jog (on a treadmill) for the first time since my knee injury and subsequent surgery. Well, okay, it was more like a fast walk (3.3 miles per hour), but it mimicked a jog. My physical therapist said this was the point, to simply get the motion. “It feels awkward,” I said. “That’s normal,” he said. Likewise, when I said that the hardest exercise I do is lowering myself down onto a step, he said, “That’s the last thing to come back. It just takes time.” Still, despite this fact, I see a lot of progress. Today I broke a sweat balancing on a Bosu ball, but the balancing was easier than two weeks ago; I didn’t have to use the bar in front of me to keep from falling over.

And did I mention I’m jogging!

While driving around today, I listened to a podcast about willpower. The speaker, Kate Galliett, said that willpower is depleted 1) by our feeling overwhelmed and 2) by our making a lot of decisions. That is, if you have to make a hundred choices at work during the day, in the evening you’re probably not going to have the mental reserves required for eating broccoli instead of cake, unless broccoli is already a habit for you. If it’s not, you’ll say, “Fuck it, I’m too tired” and reach for the red velvet. What I found most interesting, however, was that Kate said ANY decision you make depletes your willpower–including what statuses to like or not like on social media. Or what clothes you’re going to wear every day. This is why Steve Jobs had a uniform (or why you might want to set out your clothes the night before). Think about it–if you can only make so many decisions each day, why not save them for what’s important–your job, your health, your relationships.

Not necessarily in that order.

Honestly, I’m not sure why my therapist wanted me to “reduce myself” for a bit in terms of my writing routine and rather think about boys, frosting, food, and clothing. But my guess is that she knows I tend to wear myself out and thinks it would be wise to first sit down and get clear about what’s really important and what I want to accomplish. Because I do use my willpower a lot–to write this blog every day, to rehab my knee, to read a hundred books, to do half a dozen things I don’t always talk about here. And the podcast I listened to was right–willpower is a limited resource. Granted, it can replenish itself, but not if you keep pushing, pushing, pushing. At some point, you’ve got to chill out. You’ve got to give yourself a break.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Sometimes the best you can do is metaphorically sit you ego down, look it square in the eye, and say, “Would you shut the fuck up already?”

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On Simple Pleasures (Blog #703)

Today I was supposed to go to Tulsa to see friends, but this morning decided not because of the weather. Last night it sleeted and snowed in Oklahoma. And whereas the roads would probably have been clear(er) this afternoon, my gut said no. Weird, because I usually don’t get in a twist about weather conditions. But since I had knee surgery, I’m especially cautions of slick surfaces. That’s the last thing I need, to make it all the way to Tulsa just to slip on a restaurant sidewalk. What’s the saying? Better safe than sorry.

In lieu of traveling today, I stayed home–fixed myself a nice oatmeal breakfast, then spent the afternoon reading a book by Robert Sapolsky called Behave: The Biology of Humans at Our Best and Worst, about why people commit acts of aggression and violence. Apparently the answer isn’t simple; the book is over 700 pages. Also, it’s dense. I’m on page 62, and so far all I’ve taken away is a vague understanding of what a neurotransmitter is. Well, that’s not true. I’ve also learned about the prefrontal cortex (PFC), which is the part of my brain apparently responsible for my eating kale salads. That is, the PFC helps us choose what is “best” over what is fun, expedient, or titillating. It’s the reason we set our alarms to go to work or the reason we don’t hit on the hot guy at the gym, even if we fantasize about it (a lot).

By the way, the PFC doesn’t fully develop until a person’s mid to late twenties, which explains a lot and is one of the reasons my therapist recommends my dating someone over thirty.

Earlier this evening my PFC, always doing its job, took me to the gym. Dad went with me. I’ll spare you every little detail, but I cycled then followed along with a yoga video on my laptop, which I brought with me. However, I couldn’t do everything the video asked me to, like rest my weight on my left knee. I’m getting really excited to start using my body like I used to, but I figured better safe than sorry. So I modified. As the yoga instructor said, “We work with the bodies we have.”

We work with the bodies we have. Amen.

I don’t have much else to say. I’m excited to hit “publish” and, I don’t know, watch a movie. Historically I’d be bemoaning what didn’t happen today, thinking I could have gone to dinner with my friends instead of to the gym (woo, exercise). But lately I’ve been trying to find joy being right here, right now, whether that means breaking a sweat or sitting at home in my sweat-pants. I’ve been trying to bask in simple pleasures–a good story, a hot cup of tea–hell, walking, which I’ve found is especially enjoyable if you haven’t been able to do it in a while.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Your emotions are tired of being ignored.

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On Being More Certain (Blog #700)

After two days of feeling like crud, this morning I woke up–worse. However, when I got up and took my temperature–96.6, a degree lower than what’s normal for me–I convinced myself I didn’t have the flu. No fever. No aches and pains. Rather, I decided it was my old “friend” Mr. Sinus Infection. And whereas I wasn’t thrilled about his showing back up uninvited (who would be?), I figured I’ve dealt with his sorry ass before. Plus, almost anything is better than the flu.

Can I get an amen?

A year ago I had a sinus infection that lasted over three months. It was disgusting. Who knew one person could produce that much mucus? It was the biggest and most discouraging health thing I’d ever dealt with, and I tried everything under the sun to get it to go away–antibiotics, nasal irrigations, vitamins and supplements. Nothing touched it. But then I stumbled upon a website that said many chronic sinus infection sufferers had found relief by swabbing a particular probiotic (L. Sakei) in their nostrils (I’m not kidding), the idea being that L. Sakei eats, kills, or otherwise balances out the bad bacteria that’s up there running rampant and causing all the grief. Anyway, this theory made sense to me (and I was desperate), so I tried it. And get this shit. After three months of being sick day in and day out, I was better in forty-eight hours.

Just like that.

For the last year, I’ve used this strategy anytime I’ve felt something coming on. Unfortunately, sometimes it hasn’t worked. I’ll explain. L. Sakei is a bacteria or probiotic that’s not only difficult to come by, but also picky about where and how long it lives. That is, it’s only in one probiotic pill that I’m aware of, and then it’s mixed in with other little critters. There’s a company that sell the probiotic by itself (as a powder), but it’s thirty bucks for a little bag, and you have to keep it in the freezer. Otherwise, your best bet is kimchi. That’s right, kimchi, the Korean fermented cabbage stuff. That’s what initially did the trick for me. However, I had to try six or eight different brands before I found two that did the job, since L. Sakei doesn’t grow in every batch of kimchi, and when it does, it’s only between weeks two and ten after the date of production (which isn’t normally printed on the product). So it’s a crap shoot.

Because swabbing kimchi up your nose is 1) a crap shoot and 2) smells bad, for the last year I’ve kept the expensive probiotic powder on hand. My logic: I’ll gladly pay thirty bucks if it keeps me vertical and out of the doctor’s office. Anyway, for the last two days, ever since I started feeling like crap, I’ve been using it. However, I noticed this morning that my batch had expired over two months ago. As I understand it, the bacteria can only live so long after being exposed to oxygen. Anyway, since it takes a solid week to get the stuff through the mail, this afternoon I showered and dragged my ass to the Asian food mart in search of kimchi.

Y’all, and I realize this is a dumb American thing to say, but the Asian food mart is super weird. Never mind their food. I walked in today, and right there on the other side of the sliding glass doors–in front of God and everybody–was a row of pedicure chairs. Thankfully, no one was in them, but still–pedicure chairs in a grocery store, right next to the fifty pound bags of rice. Can you imagine getting your calluses scrubbed while the scent of raw fish drifted across your nostrils (presuming you didn’t have a sinus infection and could smell the raw fish)? Ick.

Months ago, the Asian food mart only had one brand of kimchi, but today they had two, so I stood there examining everything, praying about which I should get. “I like this one,” an Asian woman told me. Then she smiled. “You like Korean food?”

“Uh, I like this stuff,” I said, smiling in return.

Don’t tell her you put it up your nose, I thought.

“You been Korea?” she said.

“No, I haven’t,” I said. Then I added, “Only Thailand.”

She frowned and walked away.

Dumb American.

Back at the house, I swabbed the kimchi up my nose. For two hours I off-and-on smelled cabbage, red peppers, and shrimp. Gross. But I have felt better tonight. This evening–while sitting up!–I read a wonderfully delightful and magical book about creativity (The Spark: Igniting the Creative Fire that Lives within Us All by Cirque de Soleil). Then I went to the gym with my dad for some “light” knee rehab. That is, I didn’t work out as long or as hard as normal. Now it’s midnight, and I’m obviously blogging. And whereas I don’t feel fabulous, I do think I’m on the mend. Granted, I could wake up tomorrow worse than ever, but I’m hoping that won’t be the case. I’m hoping those little fermented cabbage critters will do their job!

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Tonight’s blog is number 700 (in a row). Damn; that’s a lot. I’ve been wanting to do another live video to share an essay I wrote that helped me process selling most of my worldly possessions and begin living as a minimalist, so maybe I can do that tomorrow or this weekend as a way of celebrating almost two full years of daily blogging. (Two years exactly will fall in one more month, on the last day of March).

Life is good despite its difficulties.

I wish I had something more profound to say to wrap up tonight’s post. Thinking back to that sinus infection that lasted forever (at least it felt like forever), I’m reminded that relief comes. After days, weeks, or even years of a storm beating at or even tearing apart your door, eventually even the strongest winds must stop blowing. When I went through a breakup and started therapy five years ago, I was miserable. Fucking miserable. People said, “It gets better. You’ll feel differently one day.” I wanted to punch them in the face. Granted, it was true. That storm passed. Also, I’m better for having come through it, better for having come through all my storms. They’ve made me stronger and more hopeful–no–more certain that life is good despite its difficulties, kind despite its challenges.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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All the while, we imagine things should be different than they are, but life persists the way it is.

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A Bump in the Road (Blog #699)

Yesterday I felt crummy and went to bed with a splitting headache. Thankfully, it went away. Not thankfully, I woke up sick today. I guess it’s been coming on for a few days now–sinus junk, lethargy. I always assume it’s a sinus infection, although it’s been over a year since I’ve had a full-blown one. This morning I thought, What if it’s the dreaded f word? What if it’s the flu? When I told my mom that, she said, “Bite your tongue.” But seriously, the flu is awful. I had it twice last year, and part of me thinks it started like this, with me getting a little hot at night. That being said, I don’t currently have a fever, nor am I aching, so we’ll see. That’s all we can do.

I’ve spent most of the day in bed, either resting or reading. That’s one “nice” thing about being sick–you give yourself permission to do all the things that would be nice to do otherwise–read a book, watch a movie, stop bathing. Although I’m going to have to drag myself to the tub at some point. Or at least change shirts. This one, which I’ve had on for four days, is starting to stink. (But think how easy laundry will be this weekend.) But back to bathing. If I can find the energy, it would be good to shave. I can–I can find the energy.

I hate it when personal grooming requires a pep talk.

Another “nice” thing about being sick is that it’s forcing me to slow down. My shoulder’s been bothering me for weeks now, and I think I’ve been aggravating it at the gym. But I didn’t go to the gym today. Instead, I rested. The most work my shoulder did today was lifting my mug of hot green tea to my mouth and setting it back down twenty or thirty times (grrr). And, despite the fact that I overall feel like poop, my shoulder does feel better. Likewise, the psoriasis that’s been plaguing my right elbow for months has all but disappeared. Weird how one part of your body can be falling apart at the same time another part is coming together.

This afternoon while putting on a pair of shorts I noticed that my left leg, the one I had knee surgery on, is significantly smaller than my right. I’ve been told this is normal, that it takes a full year to get your size back. Initially, I was bothered about my skinny-looking leg. However, as I’ve thought about it today, I’ve realized it’s just part of the process, that it’s probably a good thing, since the fact that I’m noticing a difference means the swelling has gone down. Plus, the damn thing works. I can walk now. Yes, I’ve come a long way in two months. Granted, I have a long way to go in the next ten, but that doesn’t negate my progress.

Progress, that’s another thing I’ve been thinking about today. I’ve spent the last two months not drinking and the last month eating like a health nut in order to help my body heal. I take vitamins daily and am consistently scouring the internet and books in search of information about how to clear up my skin and sinuses. So getting sick, especially since I was sick so much last year, feels like a big punch in my vegetable-digesting gut. Like, what’s the use? However, I haven’t completely slid down that slippery slope today. Rather, I’ve been reminding myself that there’s a lot going around right now, and I’m not Superman. Everyone gets sick. As Byron Katie says, “It’s my turn.”

And if it is the flu, I’m almost guaranteed to lose a few pounds.

The book I finished today was Drop Dead Healthy by AJ Jacobs and is one of the most informative and hilarious things I’ve read in years. It chronicles the two-year journey of Jacobs, who attempts to be the healthiest man in the world. The consummate professional and journalist, Jacobs quotes countless doctors and scientists, as well as his aunt, an organic-eating, microwave-hating germaphobe. And whereas Jacobs pokes fun at her, he does say she went eight years without getting sick. Alas, toward the end of Jacobs’ journey, his aunt contracts cancer and dies, which Jacobs admits is ironic, since she was hypervigilant about her health. The point being that you can do everything “right” and still get sick. Everyone dies. Not that you shouldn’t make an effort to be well, but everyone dies.

Whatever this is, I do plan on making an effort. In the event it’s an sinus infection, I’m doing all my sinus infection things. If it’s something worse (despite the weight loss possibility, I really hope it’s not), I’m drinking lots of fluids and getting plenty of rest. I’m taking oregano! Having come through hell with my body last year, it’s tempting to think, AGAIN?! But as much as is possible I’m trying to accept this for what it is–nothing personal, something that happens to everyone, just a bump in the road. Certainly it’s something I can handle. I’ve been down bumpy roads before.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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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.

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On Feeling Safe (Blog #697)

When I was born, we lived on Seventh Street. Since we didn’t live there too long, I don’t have a lot of memories from there, but I do remember our dog, Bootsy, having puppies in our backyard and my learning to ride a bike in our driveway. I remember trick-or-treating on Seventh Street; our neighbor had the best popcorn balls. On a less exciting note, I remember burning my hand on the muffler of another neighbor’s go-cart. (That’s what you get for trying to help push.) I remember cutting the inside of my leg open on our metal slide. A screw was sticking out. I could still find the scar until sometime in my thirties.

When I was four, we moved to what we called the drugstore house. My dad was a pharmacist, and his store was on Main Street in downtown Van Buren, the same place my dance studio would be twenty years later. The store itself was on the second story of a three-story building, and my parents had converted the rest of the space into our new home. As I recall, it was fabulous. My sister and I had rooms in the back on the second floor and a playroom on the third. We had laundry shoots that went down to the laundry room on the first, where the kitchen was. That’s where we used to finger paint.

I have a few other memories of the drugstore house, but shortly after we moved there, it burned down, the result of a bad accident involving a semi-trailer truck and a station wagon. Thankfully, we were all gone that night, but everyone in the vehicles died. Nine people altogether. I remember standing in the front lawn of my grandparents’ house blocks away and seeing the smoke, and that’s it; nothing else comes to mind. It was three months before my fifth birthday. We’d lived there six weeks.

Last night I read a blog article by Seth Oberst, a physical therapist in Atlanta who specializes in the mind-body connection and how trauma affects the body. The article’s worth your time. In short, it tells the story of one of Seth’s female patients who suffered from a number of problems–upset stomach, multiple sclerosis, back pain. In the course of her therapy, Seth asked, “When was the last time you felt fully relaxed?” Her answer? Almost forty years ago, when she was small child, playing with her stuffed animals.

As I understand it, when a person has experienced trauma, their body can get stuck in “there’s a threat” mode or “something bad is going to happen” mode. This means their muscles are often tight, ready for action, and their nervous systems are on red alert. Of course, this can cause a lot of problems when there isn’t actually a threat. Again as I understand it, the idea behind a lot of body-based therapies (yoga, somatic experiencing, even massage) is that they retrain the brain to recognize that the threat is over. The ideal outcome? The body relaxes and is better able to heal itself.

Getting back to the article, Seth says that part of his client’s therapy was for them to find positions in which she felt safe, like when she had pressure on the tops of her feet or shoulders. Eventually she learned to move without tensing her pelvis. Then get this shit–her back pain went away.

In reading Seth’s story, I confused the part when he asked his client when she last felt fully relaxed with the part when he helped her to feel safe. That is, the question I asked myself when I went to bed last night was, “When was the last time I felt safe?”

Hum, I thought. That’s a good question. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt safe. I don’t remember the last time I wasn’t afraid of something, worried about something on some level. Seriously, I racked my brain and couldn’t come up with a single example of feeling at peace here, definitely not in the last twenty-five years. But then I thought of my life before the fire. During that six weeks at the drugstore house, I had this white tent, one of those plastic poles, snap together deals. I think it was dome-shaped, and I kept it in our playroom, although I remember it also being downstairs. Regardless, I remember feeling safe there. And yet, something changed that night in my grandparents’ front yard, that night my white tent and almost everything else I owned went up in smoke. It was like I gasped and forgot to start breathing again.

Today I’ve been asking myself, Do I feel safe? Do I feel fully relaxed? Personally, I think they’re the same thing. And whereas my answer’s been, No, I haven’t felt safe and fully relaxed in thirty-four years, I’m working on getting back there. It’s tough when you’ve lost so much at an early age. There’s all this proof that the world is a terrible place. Still, I’m working on letting go of unnecessary tension. Tonight the sky was clear for the first time in weeks, so I spent fifteen minutes stargazing and spotting new-to-me constellations. And whereas it didn’t last forever, there were moments when the sky itself arched over me like that dome-shaped, white tent, moments when the brisk night air wrapped itself around me like a cocoon and I exhaled.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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All things become ripe when they’re ready.

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Anything but a Setback (Blog #696)

This evening I drove home from Springfield, where I spent the weekend. Coming back I tried to take my time. I’m trying to be more mindful and not be in such a hurry all the damn time. This is a challenge for me; I’m always on the go-go. Anyway, when I stopped for dinner, I sipped my tea, read a book. When I got home, I methodically unpacked. This part was easy enough because I’m anal. Everything ALWAYS has its place. Now it’s ten-thirty, and I’m lying horizontal in bed because last night took it out of me. I’m hoping I can get this over with, do some leg exercises, and get straight to bed.

Crap, I’m in a hurry again.

Last night I attended a sock hop at my friends Anne and Andy’s dance studio. They host a sock hop every year, and last night was my third one to attend. Anyway, even though I knew I couldn’t do a lot of dancing, I figured it would be the perfect thing to get out-of-town, see friends, and move, even a little. As it turns out, I was right (this is often the case, ha). Everything about the sock hop was a blast–the music, the costumes, the people. Plus, my friend Matt, who used to live in Springfield but recently moved away, showed up to visit. Talk about a treat. Not only did we have good conversation, but we also laughed, laughed, laughed.

Every time someone asked me if I wanted to dance last night I said, “Yes, but I recently had knee surgery and need to stick to the basics,” which I did. When the dance first started, before I hit the floor, a couple friends asked if it was killing me to watch everyone else dance. Really, it wasn’t. I’ve watched people dance before. Plus, I’ve had plenty of opportunities to watch people with two functioning knees walk, run, and dance over the last three months, and I’ve made peace with the fact that I’m not currently there. That being said, it was frustrating for me to actually dance. For one thing, so many of my movements felt awkward and jerky. For another, there was so much that my body wanted to do (jump, spin, turn) that it couldn’t. That’s what sucked–to feel broken, to not be able to really cut loose and dance up a storm.

So many times over the years I’ve attended dances and wanted to look and dance like someone else. God, you can really get carried away comparing yourself to others. But last night I really just wanted to dance like me, to be able to do what I used to be able to. And I know–I’ll get back there. Baby steps. But until that happens, I’m going to try to be content with where I am and what I have. Ugh. This is the toughest thing, to accept life as it is, to not always be wanting something you ain’t got–to look like someone else, to dance like your former self. Some people say that’s the secret to happiness, to want what you have.

Lately my shoulder’s been hurting. For the most part it’s not dramatic, but it’s something I’m aware of almost constantly. On the way home today I listened to a podcast that said injuries and pain aren’t setbacks, they’re signals. That is, it’s easy when you’re hurting (or not dancing up to par with your former self) to think that you’ve somehow moved backwards in the grand scheme of things. As if life were a board game and, thanks to the roll of the dice, you’ve been asked to go back three squares and not collect two hundred dollars. But the podcast suggested that our problems are simply information, that pain is often the body’s way of saying, “Something’s up here. This could use a little attention.”

In terms of my knee, and I can’t believe I’m about to say this, I’m glad I injured it like I did. Not that this has been a pleasant experience, but it has taught me how to be patient, how to accept help from others, how to better care for myself, and how to slow the fuck down. And that’s huge, learning all that stuff. Anything but a setback. But more on learning to slow down. I think that’s a message my body’s been trying to convey for a while now–slow down, chill out, relax. And whereas I hate it when my knee says it can’t spin or my shoulder says it doesn’t want to, I don’t know, lift weights at the gym, I’m learning to trust and listen to my body. Fine, you don’t feel like doing that, we won’t do that. Period. End of story.

Fine, you’re ready to bed. We’ll go to bed.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Perfection is ever-elusive.

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Broccoli Doesn’t Taste Like Chocolate Cake (Blog #688)

After finding out this week that I was (and am) allergic to several common household ingredients (six to be exact), I determined today to get a handle on the situation. So after having breakfast with a friend of mine this morning, I went to Walmart this afternoon. Armed with my Safe Skin app, which compares the ingredients in everyday products to my allergens and tells me whether or not the products are safe for me to use, I spent two hours in the store. Y’all, I scanned over fifty products–shampoos, conditioners, toothpastes, deodorant, soaps, you name it–but walked out with only two things that met my app’s approval–baby lotion (for moisturizing) and unscented dental floss (for flossing my teeth, duh).

Back at the house, I spent some time looking through the app. There’s a section that lists approved products by category (hair, makeup, skin, personal, household). This turned out to be a miracle, since I was able to flag certain items that I could hunt for later in person or online, which is what I ended up doing after dinner tonight. Again armed with my app, I first went to Target. There I found an approved shampoo (but not the corresponding conditioner) and an approved antiperspirant/deodorant.

Yippee. A product perfect for my pits.

After Target I went to Walgreens, which turned out to be a goldmine. There I found not only the corresponding conditioner I needed for my shampoo, but also a bar of soap (a bar of soap!) and a mouthwash I can use. I seriously can’t tell you what a relief this was–not to pay five dollars for a super basic, hypoallergenic bar of soap–but to know that I can take a shower tomorrow without irritating my skin. Now I have everything I need–soap, shampoo, and conditioner.

What I don’t have still is an app-approved toothpaste or shaving cream. Thankfully, these products do exist, I’ll just need to order them online. And whereas I’m making this whole process out to be a national emergency–because starting over with everything that touches my skin feels overwhelming–it’s really not. I’ve already flagged the items I want on Amazon (including a cheaper option for bar soap), and it’s not like my skin can’t wait until I order them and they arrive. I mean, thankfully, most of my allergic reactions are quite mild.

I wish I could say for the same for my internal reactions, my need to classify everything that goes wrong in my life or body as a national emergency. It always feels like I have to come up with an answer, a solution, right here, right now, like if something doesn’t heal this very damn minute, it never will. Seriously, I have to remind myself multiple times a day that I didn’t get into my current position overnight and most likely won’t get out of it overnight either. I’ve been rehabbing my leg for nearly two months and going to the gym to work out the rest of my body for a month now, and just today I looked in the mirror and noticed a small difference in my muscles. So I’m telling myself it’ll probably be like this for my skin too–a little progress here, a little progress there.

As I’ve recently changed my diet (to help support my body in healing my injured knee), and now this skin thing has come up, it occurred to me today that I’m being asked (by the universe, by myself) to pay close attention to everything I put in my body and on my body. And although this is frustrating as hell because broccoli don’t taste like chocolate cake and hypoallergenic skincare products are difficult to research and find, I do think it’s important to do the hard work and take care of myself. Charlie Goldsmith, a healer, says it’s an act of self-love to give your body what it needs. Granted, it can be difficult to know what your body needs at times, so you may have to experiment. But surely one can only benefit from eating well and cutting out those things that are known to irritate their body, and surely we have time to figure out the rest.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Some days, most days, are a mixed bag. We cry, we laugh, we quit, we start again. That's life. In the process, we find out we're stronger than we thought we were, and perhaps this is healing.

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On Being Irritated (Blog #687)

Last night I dreamed I was being bitten by mosquitoes. I hate mosquitoes. When I woke up, my first thought was that the dream had to do with being irritated. Mosquitoes, after all, are SOOO annoying.

This morning I had my third and final appointment with my dermatologist this week. On Monday I got patch tested for skin allergies by being exposed to 74 “common household ingredients.” On Wednesday I found out that I’m immediately allergic to four things, the worst of which is mercury, the most common of which is peppermint. Today I found out that I had “delayed reactions” to two OTHER things–cinnamic aldehyde (cinnamon) and neomycin sulfate (as in Neosporin). Geez. What the hell–delayed reactions? I guess that’s my skin’s way of saying what I’ve said to many an ex-boyfriend–“Initially I thought we’d get along, but now that I’ve had some time to think it over, I can’t see things working out between us.”

Or as Simon Cowell would say, “It’s a no for me.”

Believe it or not, when I got the news about my skin being allergic to a total of six different things, I didn’t freak out. Granted, cinnamon and peppermint are in every mouthwash, toothpaste, and dental floss out there, but whatever, I don’t need to take care of my teeth. After going through a battery of immune system tests last year and being told repeatedly that nothing was wrong, it was actually good to be given an explanation for at least one of my problems–contact dermatitis. And whereas the worst of it (a rash) is already under control, perhaps now we can get the least of it (itchy skin) under control. My dermatologist said, “I know it seems daunting, but all you have to do is avoid these ingredients.”

Encouraged by this pep talk and the ida that I could see results in as little as a month (because that’s how long it takes skin cells to regenerate), I went to the natural food store this afternoon to buy new personal products, since all of mine are on my no-no list. “Just think,” my dermatologist said, “you can go on a shopping spree.” (Like I needed an excuse.) Anyway, armed with a phone app that reads barcodes and compares product ingredients against my allergens, I started checking products. Y’all, I scanned at least two dozen toothpastes, shampoos, conditioners, body lotions, and shaving creams, and–no shit–every one one came back either as “not in our database” or “not safe for you.” (I kept thinking, No soup for you!) And whereas this normally would have sent me over the edge, today, for whatever reason, it made me laugh.

Perhaps this was a grace.

At this point, I don’t know what I’m going to do. Honestly, I think I could keep using the products I’ve been using and survive, since my reactions have been slow and delayed. However, I would like to listen to my body, clean things up, and give my skin a fresh start, so I’ll probably end up ordering some products the app recommends online. And whereas it’s frustrating that my choices are limited (because apparently my no-no ingredients are in EVERYTHING), at least it makes the selection process simpler. Plus, I was only using ONE shampoo, ONE conditioner before, so it’s not like a need a hundred options anyway.

This evening I’ve been telling myself that this isn’t a huge deal. I don’t have a major disease; I have irritated skin. Chances are that’s what my mosquito dream was about last night–the fact that my skin is even more worked up than normal because I haven’t had an antihistamine in a week (because of the testing). But it’s not lost on me that I’m generally irritated and worked up about something. They say that’s common with people who’ve been through  significant trauma–you can’t really calm down because you’re always holding your breath, waiting for the other show to drop. So I want to continue to work on that part of it, to do whatever I can to exhale.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Obviously, God's capable of a lot. Just look around."

On Enjoyment and Being Worthy (Blog #685)

Today started off well. I had errands to run, so I got up early. I had a lovely breakfast. When I left the house, the sun was shining. (I love the sun.) Then I had some time to kill, so I finished (finished!) yesterday’s paperwork. Then I went to a coffee shop and read a book for a couple hours. (I love reading.) For whatever reason, I delighted in all of this. Lately the idea of enjoyment has been on my mind, and I’ve been trying to soak more of it out of my everyday routine.

I’ll explain.

Most of the time, I’m going, going, going, always thinking about what’s next. For example, sometimes when I eat breakfast and finish everything on my plate, I get up to put my dish and utensils away before I’m done drinking my tea or coffee. I have this inner mantra that constantly sounds like, What else can I DO? Of course, this is a good way to be hyper productive. America loves that. However, it’s a terrible way to relax, since this thinking necessarily leads to never being able to slow down. Another consequence of this mentality is that it always feels like life is something to be enjoyed LATER. I end up thinking, I’ll be happy WHEN (when I put the dishes away, when I’m healthier, when I have more money, when I’m in a relationship).

Frustrated with my own logic, today I tried something different. At breakfast, I forced myself to leave my dirty dishes on the table until I finished my hot tea. Sipping it slowly, I thought, I like tea. Then instead of pacing throughout the house while brushing my teeth with my electric toothbrush, I stood still, closed my eyes, and thought, This is kind of fun; it tickles my tonsils. This continued into the afternoon. Not that I was stupid happy over everything, but I purposefully took time to enjoy the things I normally take for granted or rush through in order to finish–feeling the sun on my skin, listening to Come On, Eileen on my stereo, reading my book. It was fabulous.

Then something happened.

This afternoon I went back to my dermatologist to get the results of my skin patch test. Two days ago they plastered 74 “common household ingredients” to my back to see if my skin would react to them, and today was the moment of truth. (I’ll try to keep this brief.) The good news is that I had ZERO reactions rated as 3, the worst. I did, however, have one reaction rated as 2 (to Thimerosal) and three reactions rated as 1 (to iodopropynyl butylcarbamate, dimethylaminopropylamine, and peppermint oil). And whereas I’ve been all worked up about finding out my skin allergies, I actually took it pretty well. I thought, That’s not so bad. Then my dermatologist said it was so bad. Actually, she said, “It’s sort of a lot.” But then she said, “But not for someone who has rashes [I assumed she was talking about me]. This morning I had a lady who was allergic to 18 things [18!].”

Here’s a picture of my back when they removed the patches. The red spots are difficult to see. I go back in two days to see if I’ve had any delayed reactions. “But wait, there’s more.”

My dermatologist set me up with a supposed-to-be-handy-dandy phone app that keeps track of my allergies and tells me whether or not a particular product (shampoo, washing detergent, deodorant) has one of my no-no ingredients in it. However, when I came home and started scanning barcodes, I discovered that a lot of what I use isn’t currently in the app’s database. Oh well, I thought, I’ll read the ingredients myself. But that ended up being a bitch because some products don’t list their ingredients, and the no-no ingredients often go by, oh, three dozen other names. (Shit.) And another frustrating thing–when the app does identify a problem product (like my mouthwash, for example), it doesn’t say why it’s a problem. That is, it doesn’t say whether or not the issue is one of my four allergens, an allergen that’s similar that goes by a different name, or what. Consequently, I now have a bathroom counter full of products I may or may not be able to use without my skin freaking out.

If you see anything you want, come and get it.

Overwhelmed by all this information, I took a nap earlier. Having rested, I feel better. For one thing, I’ve only had ONE major skin rash this last year. And whereas it was awful, it got better when I changed my laundry detergent. For another, my allergies are three out of four mild, and the one that is moderate (Thimerosal, otherwise known as mercury) isn’t used in many things (other than vaccines, thermometers, and some antifungals and cosmetics). Granted, the mild allergens are used in many things, but we live in a world where there are tons of alternative natural options, and surely I can only benefit from finding out what they are and using them.

As I said yesterday, I can do hard things.

Another thing that’s been on my mind today is the word worthy. I prefer the word worthy over the word deserve. That is, I don’t think as humans we really DESERVE anything–good health, money, praise and adoration, a loving relationship. But I do believe we are all WORTHY of these things. Anyway, the word worthy came up while I was thinking about enjoyment, my thought being that we are all WORTHY to enjoy anything we want–a cup of hot tea, the sun on our skin, a good book–even if everything else in our life isn’t perfect. For me, that means that I can enjoy my book even if my shoulder hurts while I’m reading it. It means I can enjoy my dermatologist (love her) even if I don’t like the news she delivers. It means I can enjoy my dinner (I just ate a burger patty and a sweet potato) even if I don’t know what shampoo I’ll be using tomorrow.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Why should anyone be embarrassed about the truth?"

Take a Year If You Need It (Blog #683)

I didn’t sleep well last night. I guess I was worked up/ worried about the leaks under our kitchen sink and a few things I’m not looking forward to this week including Valentine’s Day (because I’m single AF). Much to my chagrin, I discovered when I got up this morning that my efforts to stop one of the leaks didn’t work. Boo hiss. Anyway, my dad called a plumber, so now we’re waiting. And whereas I wish I could have handled the problem myself, sometimes you simply need reinforcements.

I’m talking to you, people who learn to dance on YouTube.

This afternoon I went to my dermatologist’s office for the first of three visits this week because I’m being patch tested to see what “common household ingredients” my skin reacts to. My dermatologist suggested the test when she found out I had some issues last year that were most likely connected to a laundry detergent I was using at the time. Anyway, the testing process consists of having 74 different potential irritants exposed to your back and–later–seeing how your skin responds. That is, I go back in two days to see if I’ve had an immediate reaction, then again two days after that to see if I’ve had a delayed reaction.

My whole life feels like a delayed reaction.

Last summer I was tested for allergies via a test in which my skin was actually scratched three dozen times or so. Thankfully, I didn’t get scratched today; the potential irritants were adhered to me. Below is a picture of what my back looked like right after the patches were stuck on. Tonight’s main photo was taken after this one, and it shows what my back looks like now–covered in tape to keep everything secure. The nurse told me, “No antihistamines, no showers [a bath is okay if my upper back stays dry], and no excessive sweating.”

“But a moderate amount of sweating is okay?” I asked, thinking, I don’t control my sweat glands, lady.

Eight hours after having the patches stuck on, I feel fine. A few times today I’ve felt a little itchy in a spot or two, but not all over. Of course, I’m paranoid that my skin is freaking out and am imagining that I’m allergic to everything the Dow Chemical Company every invented. The nurse did say, “Sometimes people blister and don’t even feel it.” BLISTER! Still, whatever will happen will happen, and I’m telling myself this is just information, and the more information I have the better. Not to mention, somehow I’ve survived in the world of “common household ingredients” this long.

Otherwise, today’s been whatever. When I left the dermatologist’s office, I forced myself to go to the library and do some paperwork. Woo. Every since then I’ve had a headache, this low-level throb that won’t let go no matter what I try. It’s just demanding enough that it’s hard to write, focus, or be optimistic. (Insert period of time here.) Okay, I just took (more) pills. I’m going to the gym later and don’t want to be miserable. Sometimes you simply need reinforcements.

Earlier this evening I saw my friend Bonnie and told her that despite a part of my brain knowing “this too shall pass” and that I’ll feel differently about things (Valentine’s Day, my health, my life) later, most of my brain feels like every current challenge in my life is permanent. Like, Hang it up, Marcus. Nothing ever gets better. Bonnie said, “That’s not what you’d tell a friend, though.” And she’s right, I wouldn’t. I’d say, “Sweetheart, everything changes. Give it a day or two. Take a year if you need it. You’ll feel differently soon enough.” So I’m trying to be patient with both life and myself. I’m trying to talk to me like a friend would.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Normal people don’t walk on water.

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