On Leaving and Being Already Gone (Blog #1019)

This afternoon I saw my chiropractor who works with emotions and their impact on the physical body, and we ended up talking about a few of the “big hitters” in my life–my dad going to prison for six years when I was a teenager, my mom going to the National Institute of Health (for a year) when I was six or seven, our house burning down when I was four. And whereas discussing these subjects is usually a cerebral experience for me, today it was an emotional one. At least it got emotional when my chiropractor said, “There was a lot of LEAVING in your life.”

“Yeah,” I said, starting to cry. “Dad left, Mom left, our stuff left.”

Well, we’d just talked about the the fact that due to my being a child I wasn’t always told exactly what was going on, so my chiropractor added, “And you were LEFT out.”

Looking back, I know that everyone involved was doing the best they knew how, even me. This is something my chiropractor always pushes, the idea that any emotional response I had as a child–or even have now as an adult–was and is completely appropriate. For example, I remember flipping shit once as a five or six year old when my parents went out to eat and LEFT me and my sister with a babysitter. Seriously, y’all, I lost it. Well, today it hit me that OF COURSE I’d lose it seeing my parents LEAVE. That’s exactly what they did the night of the fire (went out to eat and left us with a babysitter), and look what happened THEN.

Now, as an adult I can rationalize that my parents’ leaving didn’t cause bad things to happen. And yet that’s what it FELT like as a child. That’s what got internalized. It’s why, perhaps, I have such strong reactions even today around issues of abandonment and loss. Thankfully, these reactions are less severe, less frequent than they used to be, no doubt a result of my willingness to not only accept “that little boy,” as my chiropractor calls him, but also myself as an adult. More and more, I see this as my job and my job alone–to parent myself. Not that I’m not eternally grateful for my family and all they’ve given me and continue to give. I most certainly welcome and accept their love, affection, and understanding. At the same time, I know that I’m the only person CAPABLE of being with me twenty-four hours a day.

This evening while painting some cabinets for a friend, I finished listening to The Way of the Rose by Clark Strand and Perdita Finn, a book about Mother Mary and praying the rosary that I recently blogged about here. Anyway, according to the authors, one of the things Mother Mary implores people to do is “move at the speed of life.” That is, the sun rises, seasons change, and trees grow–all without getting in a hurry. And then there’s us. We want everything done now. We’re impatient with our food orders, our checkout lines, and even our own healing. That’s what I thought today when I cried at the chiropractor’s office. Sure it’s nice to get this out, and it only took thirty years. And what about what’s left? But if I truly believe I’m part of–woven into–this universe, then I also have to believe that I’m exactly WHERE I need to be in it, that everything is unfolding as it should. That just as winter is supposed to be here (in the Northern Hemisphere anyway), this season of my life is supposed to be here too.

Tonight when I got home from painting I dropped a glass jug of water on the concrete floor in our garage. Well, it shattered. Glass flew everywhere. And whereas I started to get upset, I immediately thought of a song I’d heard earlier in the day, one of my favorite’s by Sugarland–“Already Gone.” The tune is about, among other things, a girl who falls in love despite the advice she’s getting from others. It’s like, too late for all that. Anyway, tonight I thought, What’s the use in getting upset about the broken jar? What’s the use in blaming yourself?

It’s already gone.

Along these lines, I’m finding a lot of peace in the thought that all the people and things that “left me” when I was a child were already gone too. I’ve talked before about how when we incarnate on this planet we’re joining a show already in progress, and this is what I mean, that the events and circumstances that took my parents and even my material possessions away were set in motion long before I showed up. Granted, they FELT personal, but they weren’t. This is one of the greatest gifts you can give yourself, realizing that whatever happened to you would have happened to ANYBODY in your situation. Because the train was already coming down the tracks, and–please–you think a child could have stopped it? I think of people I know whose parents were total assholes. And whereas this sucks, their parents were already gone too. What I mean is their kids didn’t MAKE them that way, they were assholes before. (Their kids were just a convenient target.) Likewise, I wasn’t the REASON my parents and my stuff had to leave.

Shit happens on planet earth.

And yet for all the shit that happens here, we can always come back to ourselves and our own good hearts. We can always make space for whatever arises right here, right now. We can always tell ourselves, Sweetheart, no matter what anyone else says or does, I will never leave you.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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All emotions are useful.

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The Seeds from Which Your Strength Tree Grows (Blog #1013)

It’s 1:50 in the morning, and I can’t stop coughing. Today I told a friend I’d been struggling with sinus stuff, and they said, “You and everyone one else.” So that’s nice to know. I’m part of a group. Gosh, it feels good to be included. But seriously, I’ve had so many upper respiratory problems over the years, it’s easy to forget that I’m not the only one, that other people catch things too. That things go around here on planet earth. But remembering that we’re all in this sickness thing together–I guess–makes it more bearable. What’s the saying? Misery loves company.

Excuse me while I hack up a lung.

The good news is that I typically don’t cough much during the day, just at night while I’m trying to blog or sleep. But take this afternoon, for example. I was able to work on framing my vintage brooches for several hours nonstop. And whereas when I first started this project things went pretty quickly because I was permanently fastening (glueing) the brooches to the backboards (old book covers), things are taking longer now because I’m non-permanently attaching (hanging) the brooches on the backboards so that, in addition to being able to display them on a wall, I can also display them on my body.

Yowza, yowza.

Here’s one I finished today.

The most difficult part about this entire process is hanging the brooch where I think it’s most aesthetically pleasing. In this particular case, the middle. And since THAT involves drilling holes in the backboard, well, I’ve really only got one shot to get it right. Now, I’ve found ways to allow myself a little wiggle room, but it’s only a little. So this is where my Inner Perfectionist comes in handy, since he helps me get the details right. And when things aren’t EXACTLY perfect? Well, then, I have to tell him to shut up. Because projects like these are meant to be fun, not self-tortuous.

One of the things I like about framing vintage jewelry using old book covers is that it’s a way to not only be creative but also breath new life into forgotten objects. I love digging through a pile of used books and, upon seeing one with a lovely cover, thinking, You! How has no one noticed you before? I’ve got just the right frame and just the right piece of jewelry to put you with, and then–I promise–you’re going to shine. That’s the deal with creativity. You have to be able to look at something someone else would throw away and see gold.

My therapist has a saying–potential, not pathology. This phrase was recently brought up in the context or our going forward. That is, rather than focusing on what’s wrong, we’re going to be focusing on what’s right. Not that there’s anything wrong with focusing on what’s wrong. Sometimes you have to know what’s broken before you can fix it. But once you’ve focused on what’s wrong (I’ve been in therapy for almost six frickin’ years now), well then, it’s time to take your broken and scattered pieces and put them back together into something new, beautiful, and useful. It’s time to breathe new life into YOURSELF. It’s time to make YOURSELF shine.

This evening while I was working, my parents were watching The Batchelor, which means I was watching The Batchelor. Anyway, after one of the girls talked about her difficult childhood (I missed all the details, but someone important died), my dad the cynic said, “WHERE do they find all these people with their sob stories?!”

“It can’t be THAT hard,” I said. “Everybody’s got one.”

But seriously, don’t we? Lately I’ve been talking about how our challenges aren’t personal, and this is what I mean. When everyone you know or are related to has had someone die of cancer, or been in a terrible car accident, or been divorced, beaten up, cheat upon, or neglected, how can you claim that your problems are unique? Now, I’m not minimizing them. They are unique to you. And important for your journey. At the same time, I AM trying to take the sting out of them. I’m trying to get you out of victim mode (pathology) and into your power (potential) by helping you see that these things–these very shitty things–simply happen on planet earth. To everyone. Because this is the shit happens to you, and you, and you planet.

Why we signed up to come here, I’ll never know. I’m convinced, as a friend of mine says, we must have missed something in the fine print.

At one point while I was working today, my dad said, “You know, you mother and I don’t always get to see you actually doing the things you like doing [like dancing, writing]. But I’ve been watching you paint and drill and glue and and everything else this afternoon, and you look absolutely content.”

“Hum,” I said, “I am content. I really enjoy this.” That’s another thing about this planet. Despite the fact that some terrible things can and do happen (and that they can and do happen to you), it’s still possible to be content, to be happy. Even while you’re coughing up a lung, it’s still possible to find peace of mind. This is one of the gifts of doing The Hard Work, of looking at the most challenging and shitty events of your life and shifting your perspective about them in such a way that they become your greatest assets, the seeds from which your Strength Tree grows. Because that’s the deal, it’s not what happens to you, but what grows out of it. It’s how YOU grow out of it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Damn if good news doesn't travel the slowest.

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There Are Other Cards to Pull (Blog #993)

Hum. What to say? This morning I saw my therapist then ran a few errands–returned a frame to Hobby Lobby, hit up (as in browsed around, not robbed) a used book store. Anyway, I ended up buying a copy of Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland and a print–a page torn out of an art book–of a painting called Christ Discovered in the Temple by Simone Martini. In it a teenage Jesus has his arms crossed and is looking rather put upon by his parents, Mary and Joseph, who are clearly upset with his running off to teach the elders without first asking their permission. Which just goes to show that even our lord and savior couldn’t make all of the people happy all of the time.

So we might as well quit trying to.

This afternoon I met my family at Village Inn for Free Pie Wednesday. This is one of our new traditions, and–as per usual–I had WAY too much coffee with my slice of apple pie. It probably didn’t help that I hadn’t eaten anything else all day. Regardless, by the time I left the restaurant I was wired for light and sound. Even now, at midnight, I’m buzzing. Alas, this is what balance looks like for me lately, not me always walking the middle of the road, but me sometimes overdoing it, like today, and me sometimes under-doing it, like when I fast. More and more, I’m okay with this. As my therapist is fond of saying, we like to think that life is black and white, but the truth is–it’s gray.

This evening I got a haircut (trim), then my friend Justin helped me install a new battery for my laptop. Of course, by helped me install I mean he did it for me. This being said, the battery still needs to be calibrated (charged, fully depleted, then charged again), and I’ll do that part. So, as always, it takes a village.

And a Village Inn.

Go team.

While I was at the bookstore checkout counter today, another gentleman bought a book using store credit. I guess you can bring in books to sell and, instead of taking cash for them, take a trade out. Anyway, the clerk opened a file drawer full of index cards and started searching for this guy’s last name. Then the guy said, “I’m in here all the time, so just look for the card that’s highlighted yellow at the top.” Well, sure enough, the clerk found it lickety-split, pulled it right out. “That’s cool,” he said. “We should do that for other customers.”

“Well it wouldn’t work if you did it for EVERYONE,” the guy said.

Later I was thinking about this whole interaction and how our thoughts and emotions are like the notecards in that file cabinet drawer and how each of us has certain highlighted or go-to responses for any given situation. Like, a lot of guys get ANGRY whenever something goes wrong; a lot of women CRY. Never mind the fact that there are a hundred other ways to respond to whatever’s happening, that’s their highlighted card.

So that’s the card they pull.

Personally, I often pull the “I failed / I did something wrong card” whenever things don’t go perfectly, especially if someone else is upset with me. This has been one of the huge benefits to having a therapist. Whenever I experience stress in a relationship or situation, she helps me by offering a different perspective, by suggesting I pull a different card. “Here’s another way to look at this,” she’ll say. For example, we often discuss the irritating or off-putting behaviors of people (friends, family, self-help gurus, and even ourselves), and she’ll offer a reason WHY someone might behave the way they do. This helps me not only be more empathetic and understanding, but also more kind and–this is the biggie–more at peace.

My point in all this is that MOST of the time, our responses are habitual. Someone cuts us off in traffic, we get stuck behind one of those coupon users at Walmart, or a loved one doesn’t return our text and we go down the rabbit hole of entitlement. Like Jesus’s parents, we think, This isn’t going as I planned! We see the world in black and white–MY WAY and THE WRONG WAY. Over and over again we pull the card that says, “This sucks. Life isn’t working out for me.” In the process, we forget that there are other ways to think and perceive, that there are other cards to pull. Just as easily, at least with some practice, we could pull and eventually highlight the card that says, “Sweetheart, breathe. Be patient. Everything is working out here. Everything is working out for you.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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The Stiller You Are (Blog #965)

A few quick things before my dad and I go to the gym and hopefully work off some of the tater-tot casserole we just ate. And yes, tater-tot casserole is a thing. Get thee behind me Satan.

I mean, get thee inside me.

1. On slowing down

Today I lay in bed reading a book I started–I don’t know–in May. I’ve had my nose poked in numerous other books lately (thank God I have a lot of bookmarks), but saw this book last night and got re-interested. Anyway, my original plan was to go to the library this afternoon, but after I started reading this book I decided to stay home. I thought, You don’t always have to be running around. So back to my bed, back to my book I went. What’s the lesson, kids?

Everything else can wait.

2. On silence

Yesterday while I was at the library watching videos, there was a moment when one video ended before the next one started and there was complete silence. Y’all, I nearly flipped out. It was–what’s the word?–unsettling. I guess in today’s world there’s always SOMETHING going on. In my world, there’s always something going IN–tater tots in my mouth, noise in my ears, knowledge in my head. Today I read so much–a hundred and fifty pages of small print–that my eyes started hurting. Y’all, I FINISHED my book, but I kept thinking I needed to read more, to finish ANOTHER BOOk. Now I’m sitting near my window and can hear the rain falling. THIS is what I need, this fundamental reconnection with the basic stillness of life.

3. On knowing thyself

Ever since I started therapy I’ve kept a list of things to talk to my therapist about. And whereas in the beginning I would jot down the list on a piece of paper (or a paint stick that my therapist and I started calling The Paint Stick of Truth) and later throw it away, for the last couple years I’ve kept the list on my computer. (Please don’t hack me; you might see your name.) And whereas I’ve been seeing my therapist for almost six years, we never run out of things to talk about. The list continues to grow.

Often during the last ten minutes of my therapy session I will begin to freak out, like, But there’s stuff on the list we haven’t talked about. This is, of course, the same anxiety I experience when I read only one book a day or look at my bank account–the anxiety of THERE’S NOT ENOUGH (time, information, money). But the truth is–there is. The truth is I’m constantly overwhelmed with time and attention from my therapist, just as I am overwhelmed with information. I’ve probably learned more this year than some of my ancestors learned in a decade. And whereas I’m not to the point I’m willing to say that I’ve been overwhelmed with money, I am willing to say that I’ve seen A LOT of it come and come. So maybe I am overwhelmed with money.

But I’m also overwhelmed with Amazon.

Getting back to my therapy list, I realized today that because I often prioritize my list, it’s become a perfect way for me to know not only WHAT mentally and emotionally drains me, but also HOW MUCH it drains me. Once my therapist said, “If someone or somethings is showing up on your list over and over again, that’s a good sign there’s something wrong.” Her solution? Boundaries, of course. My point being that even if you don’t see a therapist and make a list, it’s important to know what’s under your skin and who’s got your goat. You could even ask your friends, “Is there something I bitch about all the time? What do you think I can’t let go of?” And then stop bitching about it, let go of it. I realize it’s not “that easy,” of course, but I’m saying–start dealing with it. Not just for your benefit, but also for everyone else’s.

The stiller you are, the stiller we are.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Normal people don’t walk on water.

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What Do YOU Want to Do? (Blog #942)

After a full weekend of working and partying (and gaining an pound and a half), today I took a break from working and eating. This is something I’m trying to do, consciously rest and fast one day a week. Last Saturday/Sunday was my first attempt, and I fasted for 23 hours. (It didn’t suck.) So far this time I’m at 26. Unless something drastic happens first, I’ll break the fast at, well, breakfast tomorrow. With any luck at all, I will have erased some of my food sins from this last week and, more importantly, given my body a chance to heal.

In order to not spend the day thinking about food, I’ve spent the day watching movies, first Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindenwald, then Rocketman, the Elton John biopic. Also, I watched the next to last episode of The Deuce, a series my therapist started me on (but not for therapeutic reasons). Anyway, I’ve been hungry and a little lightheaded (please don’t ask me to be articulate), but it hasn’t been awful. One thing I’ve been thinking about is how we make things out to be a big deal in our heads that aren’t a big deal in reality. For example, not eating. I keep thinking, I don’t know if I can make it. But it turns out our bodies were designed to survive–for a while–without food. I mean, it’s not like our ancestors had refrigerators and a plethora of fast food restaurants a stone’s throw away.

What did they have, Marcus?

Their fat.

Another thing that’s more difficult to do in your head than in reality is going to therapy. Since I started therapy over five years ago, a number of friends and family members have said, “I would never go. I could never go.” Okay. What are you so afraid of–a conversation? Because that’s all that happens there. Of course, you’ll be challenged to change, but it’s not like anybody holds a gun to your head and demands that you get some boundaries. (“Tell your aunt Sally to stop being so nosey, or I’ll pull the trigger!”) That’s all up to you. Change is always up to you.

Of course, making changes and having healthy boundaries isn’t easy. If it were, everyone would do it. But again, experience has taught me that difficult conversations are mostly difficult in my head. Not that every confrontation I’ve had over the last five years has been comfortable and fun, but they’ve all gone better than expected. Once I open my mouth and say, “I think we need to talk,” I find strength I didn’t know was there. I hear myself saying things I was afraid to say (“I’m done with this shit,” “I’m sorry,” “I’d like to try again”) and think, Okay, I’m doing it. This is really happening. When it’s all over I think, Phew. That wasn’t so bad.

Something else I’ve been thinking about is a question my therapist often asks me when I directly or indirectly ask for her advice–“What do YOU want to do?” This, I think, is the mark of a good therapist or even a good friend–rather than taking your problem as an opportunity to pontificate and sound smart, they turn you back to your own wisdom. They affirm that YOU know what’s best for YOUR life. Recently I had a disagreement with someone, and when I asked my therapist how to handle it, she said, “What do want to do–other than kick them in the junk?” Well, it was a professional relationship, and I wanted to quit, to walk away. Ultimately, that’s what I did. I was polite about it, but I said, “I’m outta here.”

And I’ve been happier ever since.

I guess my therapist asks this question of her clients a lot–what do you want to do?–not because most people don’t know what they want to do, but rather because most people are afraid to do what they want to do–quit a job, turn down an invitation, tell someone to fuck off (to the moon, Alice!). At one point when I owned the dance studio I had some drama with a student and found myself being nervous to go to work–AT MY OWN STUDIO! Well, it took me a couple days to grow the balls, but I eventually said what I wanted to–“I’d like you to leave and not come back.” The best part? They did. Now, they took their money and a few of their friends (and THEIR money) with them, but the drama was over and I had more peace in my life.

The older I get, the more I’m convinced peace is priceless.

Joseph Campbell says we all start off life as camels. We take on heavy loads that aren’t our own–gladly. But if we’re lucky we evolve into lions, self-possessed creatures. The job of the lion, Campbell says, is to slay the dragon on whose scales is written the words “thou shalt.” This is part of the growing up or maturing process, that rather than forever being told by another what you should do, you become the authority for your own life. If your inner wisdom says to tell someone to get lost, you do it–and you accept the consequences. This is another part of growing up–you take responsibility for yourself and what your life looks like. You stop blaming others (your parents, the gods, the economy). You realize that at the end of the day the person with the most influence over your circumstances, your relationships, and your happiness–is you and you alone.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There’s a lot of magic around you.

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On Changing Toothpastes (Blog #936)

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

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

I’ll explain.

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

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

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

Fingers crossed.

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

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

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

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

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We all need to feel alive.

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

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

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

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

I didn’t disagree with her.

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

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

“Like, take a nap?” she offered.

“Yeah, like that.”

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

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

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We can hang on and put everything safely in its place, and then at some point, we’re forced to let go.

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On Motivation and Unconditional Acceptance (Blog #913)

Yesterday I stayed up late doing odd jobs around the house, in part because the mood hit me, in part because I didn’t want to do them today. You know, things like laundry, stuff to get ready for the upcoming week. My thought was, If I get this shit done now, I can have the day off tomorrow. Anyway, it worked. Today I rested. I chilled the eff out. This morning I slept in, read a book, then made breakfast (at noon). Then Mom and I did something we almost never do independently or together–we went to the movie theater. Y’all, we watched Downtown Abbey. It was glorious.

Stop your life this instant and go see it.

After the movie Mom and I picked up Dad and went to my aunts’ house for a late lunch–spaghetti. And whereas spaghetti isn’t on my current meal plan, I made an exception. As I’ve said, I refuse to be an all-or-nothing perfectionist about this. In fact, just to show my inner perfectionist who’s boss, I ate a piece of bread. With five different cheeses on it. (Take that, mister). I did not, however, eat two pieces of bread, nor did I eat the chocolate pie that looked oh-so delicious. After lunch I started reading a book my therapist recommended–Will the Real Me Please Stand Up?–and it said that changing your habits is less a matter of willpower and more a matter of motivation. That is, if you’re really motivated to do something (like fit into your pants), you’ll have the willpower to do it (to say no to chocolate pie).

And what if I’m simply not that motivated, Marcus?

You’ll buy bigger pants.

This evening I’ve continued to rest. By this I mean I’ve continued to read the book I just mentioned. And whereas I’m not completely done, I almost am. Mostly it’s about how to communicate authentically and openly in relationships, how to share your actual self instead of just the mask you wear. One of my takeaways is the idea that there are three things we can do when we talk to another person–ventilate (emotionally vomit on them), manipulate (consciously or unconsciously try to maneuver them to suit our needs), or communicate. (Guess which one is best.) According to the book, communication doesn’t blame, it explains. This was my experience. This is how I feel.

In terms of communication, the book says a lot about listening, how good listening does NOT involve interrupting or giving advice. I know, this sucks. It’s fun to give advice. But apparently good listening isn’t that complicated–you simply pay the eff attention (instead of checking your phone), nod your head, say uh-huh. You validate. Instead of what most of us do, which is 1) dismiss (oh, that’s not a problem!), 2) fix (here’s what you should do), or 3) upstage (if you think that’s bad, listen to what happened TO ME!).

If there’s any magic at all to therapy, any reason I’ve spent thousands of dollars over the last five-and-a-half years, this is it. My therapist listens to me. More than anyone else in my life, hands down, she doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t dismiss anything I say or want to talk about, doesn’t try to fix things or offer advice (unless I ask), and doesn’t upstage. Now, granted, she gets paid for this good behavior, and the advice she has given and the perspectives she has offered have been invaluable. But the most healing thing she’s given me is her unconditional acceptance. Because of this, never once have I felt unheard or unimportant. Never once have I felt brushed off. Consequently, I walk through life differently than I did before. I stand taller.

All because of one person.

Personally, I’m challenged by both my therapist and the book I’m reading to be a better listener. To put my phone away. To not offer advice when it’s not asked for. I mean, do any of us like unsolicited advice? I know I don’t. But doesn’t every one of us want, even need, to be heard and accepted simply for who we are, warts and all ? I know I do.

So what do we do?

We start first. We give someone else what we’d like them to give to us–unconditional acceptance. We say, “Thank you for sharing your experiences and feelings with me. I hear you, I understand, and I still like you. Don’t worry. You have don’t have to change a thing.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We are all connected in a great mystery and made of the same strong stuff.

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On the End of Innocence (Blog #881)

Today I saw both my therapist and my acupuncturist, but not at the same time, so let’s talk about my acupuncturist first. (Here we go.) She mainly worked on my neck and shoulders, since those are my chief complaints. Like the last time I saw her, she stuck needles in me (it’s kind of her thing), then stuck (sucked) cups to my skin to help release tight fascia. This last process, called cupping, is one I continue to be fascinated by. Supposedly the spots the turn the darkest are the ones that need the most help/are getting the most benefit from the treatment. Anyway, check out the purple spots on either side of my neck in the photo below. I look like I’ve got two serious hickeys.

If only I were so lucky.

Here’s a close-up (Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close-up), of one of the purple spots. Yowza. Thankfully, none of the bruises hurt.

Honestly, I don’t know how much acupuncture and cupping are helping me. Neither thing is a miracle. That being said, most things aren’t, and I do think at least one if not both of the treatments are beneficial. That is, my shoulder has been better since my last treatment, and my neck has felt “looser” today. Even if this weren’t the case, I see my acupuncturist as another member of my healing team (it takes a village), not someone who has ALL the answers, but someone who has a unique set of skills and a certain knowledge base (that I don’t have). Today I asked my acupuncturist about a long-standing, off-and-on problems I’ve had for the last few years (body odor), and although I thought I’d “tried everything,” she recommended something new. So, as my therapist is fond of saying, I’m giving it a whirl.

Speaking of my therapist, today we talked about, among other things, business and negotiation. I told her I was bothered because I recently bought some supplies at a salvage store and felt sort-of taken advantage of. I’ll explain. The supplies I wanted weren’t marked with a price, and the salesman said, “I won’t charge you much.” Then he (we) walked all the way back to the front desk with the stuff in hand, and he finally quoted me a price. “Just x bucks,” he said. Well, it was more than I was expecting, but just by ten dollars, so I didn’t say anything. At the same time, my intuition absolutely knew he was pulling an old okie-doke on me. But I thought, Hell, I want this stuff. So I paid it.

Later I did some research, and I don’t think I got robbed or anything. Actually, it was an okay deal. Now, a GOOD deal (for both of us) would have been ten dollars cheaper. A GREAT deal (for me) would have been fifteen dollars cheaper. My therapist said, “It wasn’t about the money. What bothered you is that you didn’t say anything–like, ‘How about ten dollars less?'”

“I didn’t know that was an option,” I said. “I guess I was caught off guard.”

My therapist said she’s never a fan of the hard sell. “But I’m also not a fan of the quick sale,” she said, “and the fact that the guy rushed you through the process was a red flag.”

The advice my therapist offered to me (and that I’m offering to you) was to take a minute to center myself before any business interaction. Recently I had a business meeting in which I wanted something specific and was lucky enough to meet with my therapist first. She said, “I know you want this, but you don’t NEED it because you have LOTS of options. So go into this DETACHED.” Then we figured out what I was willing to accept and what I was not willing to accept. Anyway, today she said I could do this on my own before I go into any store or sit down to talk business with anyone. Had I done this before RUSHING into the salvage store, I would have known–This is how much I want to spend, and if it’s more than that, I’m willing to ask for less or simply walk away.

Because (I’m learning), you can always walk away. You’re never OBLIGATED to buy anything.

Even something you want.

My therapist said that for the cheap cost of ten bucks, I learned a pretty important lesson–to go into things with my eyes wide open, ready for anything. “I’ve known a lot of people who have learned that lesson but with two or three extra zeros attached to it,” she said. Yesterday I spoke about the stories we tell ourselves, and this is another example of how you can use your words to shape your reality. What I mean is that rather than beating myself up for not being more on my toes, I’m telling myself this is a chance for me to learn something that may (will) come in handy down the road. Several years ago I dated a MASTER manipulator, liar, and cheater, and you better bet that experience has not gone to waste on me. I can’t tell you the number of times since that I’ve been attracted to someone and then–upon observing their behavior–thought, Wait a damn minute. I’ve seen this before. Bye.

Today I finished reading Sheldon B. Kopp’s An End to Innocence, which is about how growing up and being responsible for yourself means just that. That is, the end of innocence is the death of your illusions and fairy tales, your childlike notions and wishes that anyone (your parents, a lover, a spouse, a great uncle, a doctor, a god, or the lottery) will take care of you. It’s the death of the idea that life is fair, good things happen to good people, and anything on the fucking planet makes sense. And whereas I’d debate the use of the word innocence (I’d prefer “the end of naivety” because I associate innocence with pureness of heart or the lack of guilt), I agree with the overall idea. Suck it up, Nancy. Life isn’t for sissies. That being said, I consider myself lucky because I do have a team, people who help me out. But this is the deal, the part that sucks. They don’t–can’t–heal for me. They can’t speak up for me. That’s my job.

That’s your job for you.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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On Self-Possession (Blog #873)

Today I started painting a new room at my friend’s house that I’ve been working at this month. And whereas the room is small, it’s still taking longer than it “should” because it’s requiring three coats of paint instead of two–one coat of primer and two coats of white. This afternoon I rolled and cut in one coat of primer and one coat of white. Oh my gosh, y’all, I made such a mess–mostly on myself–because the primer and the paint splattered so much when I rolled them on the ceiling. When I took a break to see my chiropractor, not only was I covered in paint, I was also covered in sweat. I thought about going home to change, but then I thought, Fuck it.

Wayne Dyer tells a story about when he was in college and studying Maslow. His teacher said, “If a self-actualized person went to a party dressed in blue jeans and a t-shirt but everyone else were dressed in tuxedos and ballgowns, what would the self-actualized person do?” Well, Dyer and his classmates had all sorts of thoughts. The guy would go home. The guy would change clothes. The guy would stay but feel embarrassed. The guy would stay but wouldn’t care. “No!” the professor said, “The self-actualized person wouldn’t notice.”

Okay. That sounds nice, right? Who wouldn’t love to go through life so self-assured that you don’t even NOTICE when you’re sticking out like a sore thumb? Alas, I’ve talked to my therapist about this hypothetical situation, and we both called bullshit. “I don’t know ANYONE with a respectable IQ that wouldn’t NOTICE,” I said. “Wouldn’t you NOTICE if you walked outside and it were a hundred degrees? Or if your tires fell off your car while you were driving down the highway?”

“I’ve known some pretty spiritual people,” my therapist said, “but I’ve never met anyone who’s self-actualized by that definition. Self-possessed, certainly. I’ve known plenty of self-possessed people.”

My therapist explained that self-possessed people carry themselves with confidence. They don’t ask the world’s permission to exist. In my experience, it’s not that you don’t NOTICE what other people are doing or wearing, it just doesn’t have a bearing on what you do or wear. Since putting my dance instruction videos on YouTube and my life in general on this blog, I’ve had both friends and total strangers tell me to get rid of my blonde hair, never wear flip flops to dance in, stop wearing hats and bandanas, stop wearing so many black t-shirts, and smile more. With all due respect, go fuck yourself. I’m an adult and capable of not only dressing myself, but also taking care of myself in ever aspect of my life. I’m not saying I have everything figured out, but whenever I need help, I have a long list of professionals whom I can consult. My therapist and my chiropractor, for example.

My point in sharing these examples is mostly to say that as you walk the path of self-possession, there will be plenty of voices that tell you you’re doing something wrong. Don’t give them much notice. Even this voice, my voice. Rather, take what serves you and disregard the rest. Just like I am, you’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. The more you own your capabilities, the more the world will accept you as you are. In the last few years I’ve found I’m just as comfortable going out in public covered in paint as I am in a suit and tie. Not that I feel equally “hot” in both get-ups, but my self-worth doesn’t change. Either way I don’t worry about what other people will think or worry if they’ll be disappointed in me. This is who I am–warts and all.

It’s that simple.

Here’s one final thing to consider in terms of self-possession. A self-possessed adult doesn’t tell another adult what to wear or what to do. (Why, Marcus?) Because a self-possessed person is too busy working out their own shit and trying to be responsible for their own life to be concerned with someone else’s. Going back to Dyer’s example, this means only an insecure person would tell the guy in jeans and a t-shirt he needed to change. I mean, a self-possessed person COULD do it (if there were a rule or boundary to enforce), but an insecure person most likely WOULD–because they feel insecure, because they need someone or something outside of them to change in order for them to feel better. That’s the deal with self-possessed people. They know what’s outside them doesn’t really matter. This is why they’re comfortable in both rags or robes. It’s what’s inside them that determines their joy.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Life is never just so. Honestly, it’s a big damn mess most of the time.

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