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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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Time to Slow Down (Blog #926)

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

You can put on a coat.

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

Me and Gloria Gaynor.

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

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

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

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Allowing someone else to put you down or discourage your dreams is, quite frankly, anything but self-care.

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The Last Word (Blog #925)

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

That’s me, a giver.

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

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

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

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

They always have the last word.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There is a force, a momentum that dances with all of us, sometimes lifting us up in the air, sometimes bringing us back down in a great mystery of starts and stops.

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On Holding Patterns (Blog #924)

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

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

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

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

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

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We're allowed to relabel and remake ourselves.

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

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

Miracles never cease.

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

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

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

Its own slower-than-Christmas pace.

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

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

Probably better than yours.

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

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

Sometimes you simply need time.

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

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

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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When Something Is Over (Blog #922)

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Some things that inspired me today–

1. A laundry mat

This afternoon I ran an errand in Fort Smith and spotted a laundry mat called Sophia Laundry. The sign said, “Come clean with us.” (Sounds like a party, right?) Anyway, I took notice because Sophia means wisdom. (Philosopher means lover of wisdom.) I thought, What’s the universe trying to say? And whereas the laundry’s slogan obviously meant–get your ass over here and wash your dirty drawers–I took it like to mean–come clean, or be honest with us.

I’ve been thinking about this all day. Not that I feel like there’s something I need to confess to the people who own Sophia Laundry, or to anyone, but I do think it’s what I’ve been doing these last years in therapy and on this blog–coming clean. To me this means being as honest as possible. This may sound like fun, but it’s not. Indeed, it’s really gross. Because coming clean with yourself means getting real about what’s working in your life and what’s not (what snot). It means owning and honoring all your emotions, including your anger. It means setting boundaries about what you’ll accept and not accept from others and, more importantly, yourself. This is hard.

But this is wisdom.

2. A Walk

After I ran my errand in Fort Smith, I stopped for hot tea and ended up walking around a nearby neighborhood. When I weighed in this week I was down (1.4 pounds) but not as much as the previous two weeks (2.4 and 2.6 pounds respectively). I’ve tried not to make a big deal about it, especially since I’ve been sick and haven’t felt like getting to the gym (but have felt like eating cheese). Still, today I thought, I’ve got the time, and it’s a gorgeous day. Let’s walk. Let’s burn some calories. Along the way I thought of a situation that’s been bothering me and remembered something my therapist often says–“If I said, ‘You’ve got thirty seconds to make a decision about this,’ what would you say?” And just like that, I had my answer.

So often we complicate things, but the truth is that part of us always knows. Going back to coming clean, this is why it’s hard. Because once you admit the truth to yourself, then you have to do something about it, and this means things will change. Conversely, there’s no change–and no responsibility–in saying, “I don’t know.” I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to think, I don’t know what to feel. These are phrases we tell ourselves to slow down the speed at which change happens in our lives, to keep things the same, to not grow up. Because we’re afraid. Because we don’t trust that good things are waiting for us. Because we don’t trust ourselves to handle whatever happens–good or bad.

3. A Vacuum Cleaner

Since the beginning of August I’ve been working at a friend’s rent house, transforming the entire thing one room at a time from brown to white. And whereas I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve thought I’d never finish, I eventually did. About two weeks ago I completed the last room–the kitchen. Since then I’ve been working to clean out the garage, where several previous renters had left–well–all sorts of things. Anyway, the entire project wrapped up tonight. My friend and I moved some furniture that’s being sold online, they paid me, and that was that. The new renter moves in later this week.

For me, the closing of this project is bitter sweet. Am I glad to not be rolling paint on ceilings? You’re damn right I am. But will I miss the work (it’s good to be employed) and the chance it gave me to spend time with myself, listen to podcasts, and be productive? Certainly.

I’ve heard it said that we do beginnings really well. Think about it. Whenever we get a new job, spouse, or house, we break open bottles of champagne, throw parties, and post pictures on Facebook. But how often do we do this with endings? Almost never. And yet they are just as important. Indeed, endings are required for beginnings. If you don’t believe me, think about having all your previous lovers following three feet behind you the next time you go out on a date with your current one. Talk about awkward.

Yes, endings are a good thing.

With this in mind, I decided to do a small ritual in order to honor tonight’s ending, to consciously make room for something else to come along. And whereas I guess I could have gone out to eat or celebrated, I simply vacuumed out my car. This seemed appropriate because I used my car to work on this project so much that it collected a lot of work-related debris–dirt, leaves, little flakes of paint. A few years ago I rescued a couple puppies but ending up having to take them to the Humane Society before I had my estate sale. It broke my heart, but I simply couldn’t take care of them. It took me months to wash their paw prints off my car windows. It was like a part of me was holding on. More and more I don’t want to do this. When something is over, it’s over. And that’s okay. Other things will come along.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It's enough to sit in, and sometimes drag ass through, the mystery.

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A Letter to My Younger Self (Blog #921)

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Dear fifteen-year-old me,

I know you may not recognize me, but I’m you at the age of thirty-nine. I know, we’re old now–all grown up–but we still look pretty good if you ask me. Especially considering all the beer and chocolate cake we’ve had in the last twenty-four years. But I digress. I’m writing because I’ve been thinking about you all evening. This afternoon I saw my chiropractor, and he suggested that the reason I have so many physical problems (sinus infections, tight shoulders, headaches) around my throat (fifth chakra) area is because the throat is where we speak our truth. And–apparently–that’s difficult for me to do.

Now, granted, speaking my truth is easier than it used to be. Certainly it’s easier than when I was your age, and that’s one of the things I’d like to (truthfully) discuss with you. Another thing my chiropractor suggested was that my fear of speaking up was directly related to my survival instinct (first chakra). For example, over the years I’ve worked with or for a number of people–hell, I’ve dated a number of people–to whom I really wanted say, “Fuck you and this noise. I’m out of here.” That was my truth. But because I perceived that I needed their love, money, or approval (or all three), I zipped my lips and stayed. I believe my body has paid the price for this–in stress, upset stomaches, and tensions headaches, among other things.

I’m sorry, body.

Where you come in is that I know all of this people pleasing in order to survive business started when we were a teenager. Probably younger. Things always begin sooner than you think they do. Regardless, looking back I can see that this pattern of behavior was firmly in place when we were in junior high. Dad had just been arrested, tried, convicted, and sent to prison, and Mom was sick. Consequently, you had a lot on your shoulders. A lot. Because you loved your family, you were trying to help them. At the same time, you were working your ass off in school, trying to be the best student. All this while suppressing your sexuality and–more often than not–your authentic responses.

In case I’ve never said it, I’d like to recognize that it was all really too much for us. We did a wonderful job, the best we could, but we could have just as easily cracked up because it was too much for a teenager to gracefully manage. I think the only reason it worked is because our body bore the burden, stored the stress and shoved-down emotions in a thousand little places.

I guess I’d like to talk about those shoved-down emotions. All the anger you felt at the situation and some of the people involved. All the frustration because, despite your best efforts, life didn’t improve. All the disappointment. The lost hope. These emotions haven’t gone anywhere.

I know that I’m a real hard-ass with us most of the time (thirty-nine years). I know that I more than imply that our best isn’t good enough. I say, “If only we were better, these bad things wouldn’t be happening.” But I’d like to say now that I’m really impressed with how you handled everything. I know you did the best you could, and–honestly–it was really fucking great, more than good enough. Looking back I wish we could have said no and hell-no, but I realize the only reason we couldn’t is because no one taught us how. Plus, our saying yes to everyone else instead of ourselves was a matter of survival. Shoving our emotions down was what we had to do in order to get by.

The good news is that it worked. All these years later, we’re still here. Thankfully, we’ve learned a lot along the way. With some good help and support (it does exist), we’ve learned to express our emotions more often, to speak our truth more often. Is it still a challenge? Yes. Perhaps it always will be. We can’t all be Julia Sugarbaker. But things are so much better than they used to be.

Going back to my being a hard-ass, I know that I put a lot of pressure on us to be perfect. Like, if we’re going to speak up for ourselves, we have to do it perfectly–in every situation, anytime someone crosses a boundary. And whereas I think speaking up for ourselves is important, I think it’s even more important for us to speak up TO ourselves. For us to be honest with us about what’s going on inside. Like, I’m angry. I’m discouraged. I’m overwhelmed.

Earlier tonight I really looked at a picture of you. I didn’t rush by it like I usually do or barely glance at it because it was during our awkward phase. No, I really looked at us. And you know what I realized? We weren’t that awkward. We were pretty hot for a teenager. More than that, we were strong. We had everything we needed to get by in life, even if it didn’t feel like it at the time. Anyway. What I really want you to know is that no matter how many years go by, I’m always here for you. Despite all the times I’ve tried to either ignore or intellectualize what we went through, I’m willing to listen–to your anger, your fear, your sadness, your joy. Whatever wants to come up, I’m willing to feel it now. I believe this can only be healing. For you, for me, for us.

Sweetheart, I love you,

Thirty-nine-year-old us

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can’t pick and choose what you receive from life, and you can’t always accurately label something as bad.

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Be Here Now (Blog #920)

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

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

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

This is really hard for me to do.

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

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

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

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

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Better that you're true to yourself and the whole world be disappointed than to change who you are and the whole world be satisfied.

"

On Bitching and Mitching (Blog #919)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I just made that up.

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

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

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

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

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

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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On Ally Cat Persistence (Blog #918)

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It’s 11:30 at night, and I’m going to try to keep this brief. Because it’s been a long day. Because I’ve still got stuff to do. Because I don’t feel well. All week I’ve been fighting a sinus infection or something gross. And whereas it’s better than it was two days ago, I’m still coughing, hacking, and sneezing.

I’m not impressed.

This afternoon I worked for several hours cleaning out a friend’s rent house and, after hauling two loads of trash to the dump(ster), made a significant dent in things. After I quit for the day, I stopped by an Asian food mart to look for more kimchi, the fermented cabbage that (sometimes) contains the probiotic that helps my sinuses. I say more kimchi because I’ve already purchased three different jars this week. (One of them was five pounds.) Seriously, the stuff is taking over our refrigerator. Still, since what I have clearly isn’t doing the trick, I continue to be persistent in the hunt.

Persistence is really what I want to talk about tonight. When I got out of my car at the Asian food mart, I saw a real scrappy looking tabby cat. You know the kind, gaunt. It was hiding in between a couple cars, snacking on a bit of food that was stuck to the concrete. God knows what it was. Perhaps something that fell out of a customer’s shopping bag or something he fished out of the nearby trash. Anyway, he didn’t run away when I walked by, but he did look at me suspiciously. Like, Don’t come any closer.

Y’all, I’m not an animal lover (I’m an animal liker), but I can’t tell you how much I’ve thought about this fella this evening. I mean, no wonder he was suspicious. He’s obviously had a rough life. How many of us are wary of letting others too close because–I don’t know–we’ve been hurt or are simply used to doing everything for ourselves?

But back to persistence. That’s what really struck me about this ally cat. Now, I clearly didn’t sit down and get his life story, but if he’s even one year old–and he looked older–it’s evident he’s a pretty resourceful feline to take what someone else would throw away and make a meal out of it. Surely we should be able to do the same. I’m not suggesting eating out of dumpsters. I mean metaphorically. Surely we should be able to take a bad situation and find something good in it, something that nourishes us. Get knocked down but get back up again. Put one foot (or paw) in front of the other and do the best we can in this moment.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We may never be done, but that doesn't mean we'll never be complete. And surely we are complete right here, right now, and surely there is space enough for the full moon, for you and for me, and all our possibilities.

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