A Bonus Post (Blog #1097, Birthday #3)

In celebration of the end of my every day, every damn day posting, and in honor of my blog’s 3rd birthday, tonight I did a Live Video in which I discussed my feelings about this whole project, my gratitude for those who have supported it/me, and what may happen next. Here it is, below (21 minutes). Sorry it looks like it’s above. It’s not. That’s just a screenshot so this post can have a thumbnail.

Okay, I really am done for now.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We think of hope as something pristine, but hope is haggard like we are.

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You Can Best Your Monsters (Blog #724)

Five years ago today I had my first therapy session. Happy anniversary to me and my therapist (the people, not the blog)! Holy crap, y’all, I’ve come a long way and changed dramatically, both inside and outside. In the last five years I’ve confronted my demons and verbalized my deepest fears. I’ve learned to say no (to bad relationships), learned to say yes (to myself and healthy behaviors), and learned to speak my truth. And whereas it may sound like a silly thing to celebrate–the day I started seeing my shrink–I will forever be grateful for my therapist, her presence in my life, and what I’ve learned from her. Even if I were to never see her again, I know I’ve been forever transformed because of her. My life is on a better path.

So pass the cake.

Yesterday I blogged about feeling better and healing from my on-and-off sinus infection. I’d tried something different that seemed to the trick. Alas, I woke up in the middle of the night sick again, and I’ve felt weak and congested all day. It’s been back-and-forth like this for a while now, and it’s beginning to wear me out. I feel like I’m constantly having the rug pulled out from under my feet. Like my body and the universe are giving me health for a day then saying, “Nope. Just kidding. We take it back.” It makes me want to quit trying, to just give in and be sick every day, every damn day, to cry uncle.

Fortunately or unfortunately, I’m not built like that.

This afternoon I’ve been brainstorming “next steps” and things to try. In my experience, there are always more things to try. And whereas this is overwhelming–because how do you decide what to try next?–it leaves room for hope. Last year I had a sinus infection for three months and finally found something that knocked it out for a year, so surely I can find a solution this time. Not that this is fun to do when you’re sick, drag your ass all around town and the internet looking for answers. My resolve comes and goes.

Recently I came across the questions, “Could you accept your pain as part of your experience without wanting it to change in any way? Could you include it as part of all that is you?” I really like these questions. So often when I’m in pain or experiencing something unwanted, like a sinus infection, I push against it. My body tenses, my breathing shortens. It’s like how a kid closes their eyes believing whatever it is they don’t want to see will disappear if their face is clenched tight. Of course, this just adds more stress to your system and causes you to hyper-focus on the problem. So I’ve been trying today to not let my current struggle be the only thing I’ve thought about, to let it be part of my day, but not my day entirely.

I’ve been mildly successful.

This afternoon I re-read some old blog posts, and it’s the biggest trip, reading my inner thoughts and wonderings from the perspective of almost two years later. It’s like knowing how my own story’s going to end. For example, today I read about my being concerned over hospital bills and body odor and thought, Don’t worry, kid, it’ll all work out. Or at least if it doesn’t, you’re not going to die. Part of me knows that two years from now, I’ll look back at this current challenge and think the same thing. I made it. And yet another part frets.

A week from today will be my second blogiversary. If I can make it seven more posts (including tonight’s), I will have completed two full years of daily writing. Wow. Like meeting my therapist, this project has transformed my life for the better. A few times over the last two years, people have commented that I do quite a bit of complaining or bitching here. I know I talk about being sick a lot (because I’ve been sick a lot). But the premise of the blog is this–first, I spill my guts about something that’s bothering me, then I do my damnedest to work myself into a better place, to find hope. Sure, I wish I could just straight to the hope part; I wish I could be sunshine and rainbows every day, every damn day. But even after five years of therapy, I haven’t figured out how to never let anything get to me. (Maybe you have.) I have, however, figured out to take even the scariest monsters in my life and shine a light on them. I’ve figured out how to shrink them down to size.

When I think about being sick, it’s really the fear that gets me. Because it’s not a problem to be sick for a day or a month. Even a year, I suppose. But you think, What if this lasts forever? What if there is no answer? Talk about tensing up. That shuts you down. But since starting therapy and especially since starting this blog, I’ve come to believe that everything is workable and everything is faceable. Not that you’ll feel confident every moment of every day or always handle yourself with grace, but deep down a part of you will never waver, a part of you will know. You can do this. You’re just as big as anything that scares you. You can best your monsters.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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The deepest waters are the only ones capable of carrying you home.

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Scheat Happens (Blog #476)

Last week, on Friday, July 13, my car Tom Collins and I (technically) celebrated our one-year anniversary. I “bought” him a year ago, although that sounds so trashy to say it like that. I like to think he CHOSE to be with me. Regardless, I was so distracted by our trip to Houston and Dallas that I COMPLETELY forgot about our important day. (So sorry, Tom.) Normally I’m stellar with dates and anniversaries, but in this case, I’m THAT guy.

Thankfully, Tom isn’t the type to hold a grudge.

Or maybe he is.

A few months ago, Tom’s “check engine” light came on. It’s a long story (which I’ve already told), but I ended up having his spark plugs replaced, and the light went off. But some days it will come on for maybe an hour or two, at most a day, then go off again. My mechanic said, “Don’t be concerned.” Well, on THE VERY MORNING of our anniversary, just as I was leaving Houston, that damned yellow light came on again. This time, Tom was kind of shuddering, which is what happened when this problem originally popped up. It’s like he was saying, “Hey, asshole, aren’t you forgetting something?”

Of course, I still didn’t remember.

Instead, I pulled over and turned off Tom’s engine. (Calm down, darling.) Then I started it back up, and the shuddering stopped. The light, however, has been on ever since. My family and I are leaving town in a few days to see my sister in Albuquerque, and since I’ve been needing an oil change anyway, I figured I could have everything–the oil and the engine light–looked at and taken care of at once. But since I’ve been doing odd jobs for some friends this week, I haven’t had time to attend to these matters.

Again, so sorry, Tom. Please forgive me.

Miraculously, the light went off yesterday, and my dad–thank God for fathers–arranged to have Tom’s oil changed and everything inspected. So last night I dropped Tom off at the shop a few blocks from our house and walked home, looking for stars the whole time. The constellation Pegasus is up after midnight or one, and it’s pretty easy to spot. It’s a huge square in the east, and I like it because it contains a star named Scheat (Beta Pegasi), which is probably pronounced “sheet,” but I pronounce “SHEE-AT.” (As in, Scheat, I forgot my anniversary.) If you’re looking at the screenshot below (from the Stellarium app), Scheat is the bright corner star just to the left of the label “Pegasus.”

This morning (well, afternoon), when I woke up, Tom Collins was ready to go. My dad had coordinated with the shop, and they’d done a clean-up for Tom’s insides. I’m not good with automobiles, but I’m picturing a car colon cleanse, something that flushes all the gunk out. Anyway, when Dad and I went to the shop to pick Tom up, the guy said the flush should take care of the engine light issue and that we were “all set” to go to Albuquerque.

Scheat happens.

Now it’s time for me to do more odd jobs. Most likely, I’ll be up late tonight–like Pegasus–then up early again tomorrow. The next few days promise to be a whirlwind. But this is life. Some days we rest, and there’s nothing to do. Other days it’s go-go-go. We forget anniversaries. Scheat happens. Meanwhile the stars slowly and calmly make their way through the heavens. One day rising and the next day falling, they don’t make a big deal about any of it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Every stress and trauma in your life is written somewhere in your body.

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