A Long-Lost Friend (Blog #783)

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Yesterday I took a nap at the house where I was house sitting. (Today was my last day.) And whereas the nap was wonderful, I was up until almost four this morning. First I exercised. Then I read. My brain wouldn’t turn off. Eventually I passed out, but then I woke up to go to the bathroom (I’m over thirty), then to let the dog out. Finally, at nine, I stopped trying to go back to sleep. Instead, I made breakfast then read a book while I did laundry, then I started packing. This is one thing about house sitting I don’t like–moving all my things in, moving all my things out. Granted, I could just take one bag, but I’m gay.

Gay men have–so–many–bags.

While staying up last night I listened to a podcast about somatics. As I understand it, somatics is a mind/body approach to healing that encourages tuning into outer and inner physical sensations. Here’s another way of explaining it. Recently I asked a friend, “Where do you live in your body (your chest, your head)?” They said, “I try not to. Like, if I have a pain, I ignore it.” I get this. My go-to response with pain is to push passed it. To hyper focus on whatever task is at hand and hope the pain will go away. But because everything I’ve been reading and leaning about lately (like somatics) has encouraged drawing closer to and even welcoming your pain, I’m doing my best to change this habit.

In my experience, drawing closer to my pain doesn’t always make it go away, but it does make it less than it was before. I suppose one reason for this is because when I’m in pain, there’s the pain, then there’s the fear I have about it. For example, my shoulder has been hurting for months now, and when I get in certain positions, I automatically tense up in order to protect myself. Of course, this doesn’t help my tension headaches or encourage relaxation. But by drawing near and approaching my pain with curiosity, the fear I have dissipates. The tension lessons.

One somatics exercise the podcast recommended was to either sit or lie down and simply notice how your body feels. Is there more pressure on one side than the other? Then notice if you’re uncomfortable at all and if there’s any way you could adjust to feel even slightly better. This was the best thing for me to hear, since I often force my body into uncomfortable positions for the sake of better posture. However, according to the podcast, creating unnecessary tension or pain, for any reason, triggers the body’s sympathetic nervous system, which is associated with fight or flight mode. But if you can position yourself in such a way as to alleviate tension or pain, you can trigger the body’s parasympathetic nervous system. Consequently, so the theory goes, your body will relax on its own.

As last night was the first time I tried this technique, I can’t speak to it definitively. That being said, I have been playing around with it for the last twenty-four hours, and it works as well as anything else I’ve tried. For example, I normally carry a lot of tension in my right neck and my gaze is ever-turned in that direction. Because I obsess about it, I often force myself to look straight on. (This always feels like a fight.) But last night and today I’ve been letting my neck go where it wants to. And here’s the cool thing–not only does my neck feel better, I notice that my entire upper body relaxes and my breathing deepens. It’s like this chain reaction. Calm down one part of the body, and other parts follow.

This afternoon I got a haircut from my friend Bekah, who was babysitting her nine-month-old grandson. After the haircut was over, I thought I was about to leave, but Bekah got a phone call and–just like that–handed me her grandbaby. Y’all, he was the sweetest thing. Often children cry when I hold them, but not this boy. He just hung out. Anyway, I’ve been thinking about how smart babies are. Not because they pee on themselves, but because of the way they move, sit up, crawl, and walk. No one has to teach them. They just know what to do. Said another way, their bodies just know what to do.

This is something I’ve really been working to get back to–the inherent wisdom of the body. For so long, because my body’s been sick or in pain, I’ve made it The Enemy. I assumed it hasn’t had The Answers. Consequently, I haven’t been fully present in my body. I haven’t been fully present FOR my body. And yet still it’s continued to work for me, to do its best. Now, as I do my best to approach it as one would a long-lost friend, I absolutely believe it has much to tell me. The Answers. As much as I believe a gay man has many bags, I believe the body has many secrets, secrets it’s willing to share if we will simply draw near to it rather than push it away. No, we don’t heal by pushing any part of ourselves away.

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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On Something Good (Blog #753)

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Wow. I’ve spent the last eight hours–except for a few bathroom breaks–on the futon in my family’s spare room, either working on a puzzle, reading, or–now–blogging. I’d intended to only work on the puzzle for an hour, but ended up working on it for–I don’t know–four. You know, I got focused. I kept thinking, One more piece.

While working on the puzzle, I listened to a couple podcasts/interviews about trauma and/or healing. One was with David Bullard and discussed something called “blink-flash” meditation, which involves 1) thinking of a mild to moderate stressful event (anything that makes you cringe to focus on), then 2) thinking of something pleasant (like a walk in the woods or your favorite song) while 3) crossing your arms and alternately tapping your shoulders and blinking your eyes (three blinks per set for several sets).

Sounds crazy, but I tried it, and the anxiety I felt around my original event lessened. (You’re supposed to rate the event on a scale of one to ten before and after the thinking/tapping/blinking part.)

Another podcast/interview I listened to was with Richard C. Schwartz, the founder of Internal Family Systems, a psychological/healing/spiritual approach I’ve been absolutely fascinated by lately. Here’s a link to the interview if you’re interested. IFS proposes that we all have different “parts” of ourselves that are longing to be listened to and understood and that when we do listen to and understand them, they essentially transform from an enemy to a friend. For example, someone’s angry part may just be trying to protect them from getting hurt again. Schwartz says that the ego that many psychological and spiritual disciplines refer to is essentially our parts, specifically our “protective” parts, and that rather than trying to rid ourselves of it, we should find out what it has to say. I’m paraphrasing, but he says, “Jesus welcomed the outcasts in the outer world. I’m asking you to welcome the outcasts in your inner world.”

Earlier this evening I finished reading Explain Pain, a book about how–in the majority of cases–pain is created in our brains (and not just our bodies) as a way to protect us. One of my takeaways from the book is that if you have a particular pain (in your neck, let’s say), it can be useful to notice when it does and doesn’t hurt. For example, if it hurts to turn you head, you might notice that it only hurts to turn your head when you’re sitting up, but not when you’re lying down. Along this line, the book suggests trying to find ways to reach the same position (head turned) without experiencing the associated pain. Like, you could sit in a swivel chair and turn your lower body while holding your head still. Or move your eyes first, then let your head follow (instead of moving them both at once). Or hold your mouth open while you turn your head.

As I understand it, the idea behind these suggestions is that our brains often associate certain movements with certain (painful) outcomes. Maybe you were in a car accident, so it thinks, “It’s not safe to turn my head.” So it creates pain as a protective mechanism. But if you “slip in the back door” and create the same outcome by getting there in a different way, your brain will get the message that “this (end result/position/movement) doesn’t have to hurt.”

Currently it’s 9:20, and I’m overwhelmed by all I’m learning. My brain is mush, like a nice bowl of grits. One the one hand, all this information is exciting. On the other, I’m worried that I “won’t get it” and that “it’ll work for everyone else, but not for me.” Of course, these thoughts are welcome. Also, I’m telling myself something I saw on Facebook recently–I haven’t come this far to only come this far. In other words, everything I’m learning is just another piece of the puzzle, and it’s all adding up to something. What that is, I don’t know exactly. But more and more, I think it’s something good.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Normal people don’t walk on water.

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If You Want to Shut Up Your Inner Child, Give It a Donut (Blog #748)

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What to say, what to say? Some days, believe it or not, I feel like being quiet. Not that I don’t almost always have an internal dialogue going on, which is basically what this is, but I don’t always feel like sharing it. That’s one thing I’ve become distinctly aware of since starting this blog. In the beginning, it was easy to imagine that it was just me here, working out my thoughts on digital paper. But after two years of this project, I can’t fool myself like that anymore. People read this. I don’t always know who or how many, but people read it.

My writing friend and teacher Anita says you can’t write with your mom or dad looking over your shoulder. That is, you can’t worry about what someone else is going to think of what you say. For me that means that if I want to say fuck, I say fuck. Not that I NEVER censor myself in terms of what’s appropriate to talk about here (I do), but if I decide to talk about a subject, I try to do so as authentically as possible (in my authentic, fuck-saying voice) and let the chips fall where they may. And whereas I have received some pushback a few times over the last two years for things like my filthy mouth and what I choose to wear on a daily basis, it’s really been very little.

In discussing this online criticism with my therapist, we’ve decided it’s largely just part of the territory. Years after uploading hundreds of educational dance videos to YouTube, I continue to get both praise and flack. One day a stranger says, “This is exactly what I was looking for,” and the next someone says, “Use a damn microphone!” So it’s just part of it–if you’re visible in any way, you’re going to be criticized. That being said, you’ll also be complimented. In my experience, at some point, it all sort of neutralizes. Not that you become unaffected by what other people say, but that it doesn’t matter so much. Because, hopefully, you’re not doing whatever you’re doing for someone else’s response anyway.

You’re doing it for yourself.

This afternoon I read more about Internal Family Systems, a psychological/healing approach by Richard C. Schwartz. The basic idea is that we all have “parts” of ourselves that behave in different ways, often in opposition to each other, and that rather than ignoring or trying to change a part of ourselves (the slob, for example), we should get to know it. That if we do, it will transform from a perceived enemy to a friend, or, in the language of archetypes, that it will move from the shadow to the light.

Today I read that our parts can basically be divided into three groups–exiles, managers, and firefighters. Exiles are those parts of ourselves that we’ve banished because we find them shameful, embarrassing, weak, or vulnerable. Think of your inner child. At their core, our exiles are our most open, sensitive, creative, and intimacy-seeking parts, but we’re often afraid to listen to them or display them to the world because we’re afraid of being hurt (again).

Managers and firefighters are the parts of ourselves that exist to protect our exiles, although they go about it in different ways. Recently I spoke of building walls around your heart, and this is apparently what managers do. That is, they keep others at a distance to keep from being hurt (again). At the same time, managers are essentially people pleasers. They are the parts of ourselves that seek approval from others, put others first, and beat ourselves up in order to avoid loss from the outside. That is, your managers are those voices in your head that tell you you’re fat and lazy–not because they hate you, but because they’re afraid that if you don’t take care of yourself, you won’t be loved.

Again, firefighters also protect your exiles. But whereas managers are proactively trying to protect them, firefighters are reactively trying to protect them. That is, if and when you do start feeling shame, embarrassment, weakness, or vulnerability (or anything else that sucks), the firefighters are your parts that say, “Mayday, mayday! Eat chocolate cake. Smoke a cigarette. Binge watch The Office. Do anything but FEEL BAD.” Firefighters are apparently people dis-pleasers. They’re the parts of ourselves that make us fat (if you want to shut up your inner child, give it a donut), tell others to FUCK OFF, NANCY, and do other socially unacceptable things.

I really do like this way of looking at one’s personality, the idea that we all have parts. To me, it makes as much sense as anything else I’ve ever read (and I’ve read a lot). Basically because it’s true in my experience. Not that I’m Sybil, but I have dozens of voices in my head, and many of them sound different. Also, despite years of trying to ignore or change certain voices in my head (the critic, for example), it’s never worked. So I’m really coming around to this idea of getting curious and finding out WHY my different parts are the way the are.

Earlier this evening I dialogued with one of my managers, my inner critic, and he said he was so frickin’ hard on my appearance because he didn’t want people to laugh at us. In other words, he didn’t want my inner child to be rejected. Also, he said it was tiring and he really didn’t like criticizing me any more than I liked being criticized. But that he thought it was necessary. I said, Sweetheart, it doesn’t matter what other people say or do, as long as we don’t reject ourselves. So we’re working on another way.

I’m not sure how I’m going to tie the first half of tonight’s blog together with the second half. Likewise, I’m not absolutely sure that all my different parts can be tied together and convinced to work on the same team (eat chocolate cake, don’t eat chocolate cake), but I’m beginning to think it’s possible. That is, I’m learning that each part of me not only has a reason for the way that it’s thinking and behaving, but that it’s ultimately trying to help. And if it’s trying to help, there’s already a lot of peace in that, in the idea that I don’t have to fight and war with myself anymore. Rather, I can work to understand and have compassion for myself. This, I think, is the tie-in to the first part of the blog about criticism and blame. If you can make peace with the different viewpoints inside yourself, you can certainly make peace with the different viewpoints outside yourself.

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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