On Being in Touch with Your Emotions (Blog #723)

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Yesterday I blogged that I was going to give myself the weekend to be sick, that I’d wait until Monday before trying to “mount a defense.” Or anything else given how little energy I had. (That was a sex joke, Mom.) That didn’t happen. After I posted the blog, I went to the website where I first heard about the probiotic (L. Sakei) that I’ve used half a dozen times to banish my sinus infections. There I read that if the probiotic previously worked for you but hasn’t lately, it can be because your body has acclimated to it. Switch it up, the site said. If you’ve been using the powder, try kimchi (fermented cabbage), or vice versa. Or take a regular probiotic capsule, break it open in you mouth, and swish the contents around.

In short, do what you gotta do to get your sinus flora back on track.

About midnight, hopeful, I went to Walmart. There I picked up the cheapest probiotic I could find ($10 for 8 strains and 14 billion active cultures) and a jar of kimchi ($6). On my way to the cash register I decided, Even if this doesn’t work, I’ll go shopping for another product tomorrow. If I have to drop a hundred bucks to find something that works, it’ll be better than being completely wiped out and congested. Back at the house, I started with the probiotic–broke it open, swished it around in my mouth. (Apparently the critters can crawl into your sinuses from your throat, but there’s no evidence they can make it up there from your stomach.) Then I poured some kimchi juice into a small glass, dipped my pinky into it, and swabbed my nostrils; then I gargled and swallowed what was left.

Fingers crossed, I thought.

An hour later, while lying in bed watching old episodes of Soap, I thought, I think I feel better. Still, I wasn’t sure. After all, wishful thinking is a real thing. But two hours later when I was wide awake and couldn’t sleep to save my life, I was certain I had more energy. Yes, I was coming back online. Two hours after that, at five in the morning, my congestion cleared. About six, I finally fell asleep. Thankfully, I’ve felt better all day. My nose has been a little snotty, but I’ve had more energy and haven’t hacked up anything disgusting. This morning I reapplied last night’s treatment and will do so again shortly. Here’s hoping it continues to do the trick.

I know I’ve been talking about this a lot lately and am beginning to sound like The Boy Who Cried My Sinuses Are Healed. Over the last three weeks, I’ve woken up sick/woken up better so many times it’s not even funny. The way I see it, my sinuses are simply having a hard time finding their balance. Still, I’m grateful they’re trying. I’m also grateful there are websites like the ones I mentioned earlier, that people like me have shared their experiences of what works and what doesn’t. Plus, I’m getting to see what a wonder the body is. For years I took antibiotics for sinus infections, and–at best–I’d see improvement in two days. One if I took steroids also. But last night I felt a dramatic shift in only five hours.

Color me amazed!

Of course, I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. But–

No one ever knows what’s going to happen tomorrow.

Today I heard Steve Martin quote Herbert Ross as saying, “Anger has a thousand faces.” For context, Martin was talking about acting, about how some actors–unfortunately–do what’s called “indicating,” which would be, say, smiling like a damn fool to let the audience know your character is happy or shouting (OR TYPING IN ALL CAPITAL LETTERS) to let them know you’re angry. But obviously, these aren’t the only faces these emotions have. We’ve all seen talented actors, or even friends and family, be terse, frustrated, sarcastic, quiet, or overly nice, and thought, Oh shit, they’re about to blow their top. In Martin’s words, “Emotions come out so convoluted.”

I’ve been chewing on this statement all day. Emotions come out so convoluted. First, is that true or what? Second, I think it’s funny that we can quickly and accurately pick up on the subtle emotions of actors and other people, but that we’re often oblivious to what’s going on within ourselves. For example, for years I told myself that I wasn’t bothered by other people’s poor or rude behavior and that I didn’t mind bending over backwards to help people who were (from my current viewpoint) obviously taking advantage of me. But since starting therapy five years ago, I’ve gotten very clear about the fact that, indeed, I was bothered. More specifically, and quite rightly, I was angry–PISSED OFF!–about a number of relationships and situations in my life.

“Better to be pissed off than pissed on,” my dad always says.

When you stand in your truth, you’re often standing alone.

Thankfully, I’ve made a lot of headway in recognizing and doing something about my emotions. Because that’s the deal, that’s why we cover them up–once you recognize them, you’ve got to do something about them. And that means setting boundaries, and THAT means changing relationships. And that’s not always fun. Which is why, I think, we shove down and shut off our emotions. Because we don’t really want to feel and respond to them. We don’t want to deal with the fall out. The fall out of standing in your truth. Because when you stand in your truth, you’re often standing alone. And nobody wants to be alone. So we put up with more crap than we have to.

I’ve said before that one of the “benefits” to being sick with sinus infections is that it’s given me an opportunity to feel frustrated and vulnerable. And not that I think I get sinus infections strictly because I’ve shoved those feelings down for twenty years, but I think that plays a part. I think sinus infections could be “a face” of my emotions. But lately I’ve been working on welcoming all my emotions, on really feeling them so they don’t have to come out all convoluted. Sinus infections aside, I don’t like my anger coming out as passive aggressiveness or upset stomachs. At least primarily. I’d rather have it come out as an honest conversation. I have a problem. This isn’t working for me anymore. Fuck off, Alice.

Your emotions are your truth.

Recently someone offered me a job opportunity–for experience, not money. And whereas part of me knew I didn’t want to do it (because I’m worth what I charge), another part of me felt beholden to the person who was offering. But after discussing the situation with my therapist, it became clear that my first loyalty is always to my inner self, not someone else’s outer self. This has been one of the biggest benefits of going to therapy–it’s helped me get clear about what I want and don’t want. It’s put me back in touch with my truth. Not that I didn’t have my truth before, I just wasn’t in touch with it. You CAN’T be in touch with your truth when you’re not in touch with your emotions; your emotions ARE your truth.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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One, Two, You Know What to Do (Blog #68)

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A few years ago I had a chronic problem with my–ahem–prostate. I guess it wasn’t a serious deal, but it was super itchy down there, on the inside. (Aren’t you glad we can talk about ANYTHING here?) Anyway, my primary care doctor assumed it was a bacterial infection, and I think we went through five rounds of antibiotics to no avail over a several month period. Finally, I ended up with a urologist in Northwest Arkansas that didn’t require a referral, since the ones in Fort Smith do, and that process was moving about as fast as the return of Jesus Christ.

Well, the doctor was a miracle. (If you need a good guy “down there,” let me know.) Basically he stuck his finger up my butt, I said I felt like I should introduce him to my parents, and he said I didn’t have a bacterial infection. (That was easy.) He said that it was non-bacterial prostatitis, so don’t let anyone give me more antibiotics. Also, he said to wear briefs, take warm baths, and watch my diet. Oh, and he prescribed a pill for old people who have trouble peeing because he said it would help everything relax down south. (Apparently my prostate was “stressed.” Who isn’t these days?)

At some point during the prostate problem period (PPP), I read a book called It Starts with Food by Dallas and Melissa Hartwig. The book contends that we can–and should–do a lot of things for our health, but it needs to begin with what we eat. It recommends a reboot of sorts called The Whole30, which is thirty days of no grains, no corn, no sugar, no dairy, no legumes, no alcohol, and–obviously–no fun. (But really, you do get to eat several types of protein and plenty of fruits and vegetables.)

As you can imagine, a diet this strict can be pretty intimidating, but I decided to–as my therapist says–give it a whirl. And get this. Within two weeks, the prostate problem disappeared. In thirty days, I lost sixteen pounds, and about day twenty-eight, I felt especially lighter and more energized. I thought, Wow–THIS is what my body’s supposed to feel like.”

It’s time for some tough love.

They say that what goes up must come down, and apparently the reverse is true also. Slowly, I fell off the wagon–a pizza here, a pizza there–and my weight went up and the prostate problem returned. And then eventually, the problem calmed down on its own. (The body is so strange.) The last time I saw my doctor, I told him about the diet, and he said, “Well, I’m just going to give you a little tough love and tell you to eat better.”

Over the last few years, I’ve done The Whole30 a handful of times, and it always works. But it also takes a lot of focus, and sometimes it makes me light-headed because maybe I’m getting too few calories or maybe I’m getting too few carbohydrates. But again, it’s effective. The point isn’t to lose weight, but I always do, and weird health issues usually clear up or at least improve. I mean, this last January, after taking antibiotics, I had the body odor issues that I’m currently having, so I started a similar thing to The Whole30 called The Candida Cure. Within a week, my body oder returned to normal (which is quite pleasant I’ve been told). But then I had sinus surgery, took more antibiotics (shit happens), and–as the song goes–the cat came back the very next day.

Honestly, I hate the fact that there’s a relationship between what I eat and how I feel. I wish I could just take an old person’s pee pill or rub some magical cream under my armpits and continue to eat waffles, fried chicken, and chocolate cake for breakfast (the healthiest meal of the day). But the fact is–I know better. I’ve seen what clean eating, if only for a couple of weeks, can do for me.

For the last month, I’ve been telling myself that I need to clean it up again, but I simply haven’t had the energy. I mean, the dollar menu is SO EASY. Plus, I usually work things up to be a bigger deal than they actually are, like every decision, every food plan, is FOR-EV-ER. So yes, I’ve been resistant. But last night I stepped on the scale, and seeing that I was just a few pounds shy of a number I’ve never seen before, I thought, Oh hell no–it’s time for some tough love.

So tonight I went to the grocery store. (Notice all the fruits and vegetables.)

While I shopped, I kept wondering if I truly had the focus and energy to currently commit to healthier living. But then I remembered once a couple of years ago when I was in the same situation and my friend and workout partner Jim said, “You know what to do. You’ve done it before.” So I’m finding a lot of encouragement in that thought, the idea that I’m not having to learn this for the very first time. Already, there’s a part of me that’s like, Yeah, this feels familiar. (And hungry. It also feels hungry.)

I’ve had a similar experience regarding my emotional life since starting therapy. I don’t remember when it was, but one day I realized that I’ve been through a ton of shit–like a lot–including illnesses, deaths, heartaches–the big stuff. And even though none of it was easy, I’d made it, so I knew I was strong. Even now, I know I can handle whatever comes. I’ve got my life so far as evidence.

And really, compared to an ex who puts you in therapy, what’s a little spinach? (You can do this, Marcus.)

I’m telling myself that I’m not going to be a complete hard ass about the diet this time. When I woke up this morning (afternoon) I thought I was going to quit coffee today too, but when I got a headache two hours later, I thought, That part can wait. There’s a day next week when I’m going out of town to hear David Sedaris, and I don’t plan on eating out and having a salad. But I know my body is asking me for better, and I do intend to answer the call.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

[The title of tonight’s blog is partly inspired by my friend Jim’s statement and partly inspired by the Lindy Hop legend Frankie Manning, who used to say, “Uh one, uh two, you know what to do.”]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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When you hide your hurt, you can’t help but pass it on. It ends up seeping, sometimes exploding out.

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Well, This Is the Pits (Blog #53)

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I’m just going to say it—I think I have a yeast infection—probably everywhere on my body that doesn’t see daylight, but mostly in my armpits. (I’m sorry if this is gross to talk about.) I think it started in December when I was prescribed antibiotics for a sinus infection, but it took me a while to figure out what was going on. Well, in February, when I seriously cleaned up my diet and started taking some supplements I found in the feminine hygiene section of the natural food store, it went away.

It felt like a miracle. You know, a miracle that doesn’t last very long, since the stuff came back sometime during the last month while I was taking two additional rounds of antibiotics for cellulitis and an upper respiratory infection. I mean, I’m assuming it’s a yeast infection—I’m not a scientist—but that would make sense.

I’ve really tried to have a good attitude about the whole thing, fight the good fight, and keep a stiff upper lip. This last week I’ve been taking some of those feminine hygiene supplements and watching my diet, but I’m not being nearly as strict as I was before because diets take a lot of mental energy and frankly, damn it, I’m tired and am starting to wear down. So it’s more like I’m fighting a mediocre fight and keeping a stiff-ish upper lip.

Do they make Viagra for upper lips?

Sometimes the universe can really kick you in the balls.

Sometimes I think the universe can really kick you in the balls and make you drop to your knees. Maya Angelou says there are times when life makes you cry uncle, and on days like today, I’m just about there. This morning I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, and to make matters worse, when I rolled over, I could smell my own armpits. It wasn’t sexy. (I don’t know why I’m worried. It’s not like anyone else has their nose down there.) Anyway, every time I smell myself, it’s the most frustrating thing because it feels like (or smells like) things are never going to get better.

After I took a shower, in the midst of trying to accept the fact that I’ve become a traveling playground for fungi, I put my phone on the bathroom counter and applied athlete’s foot powder to every crevice of my body. Still irritated about my phone because the charging port is broken, I then put the powder back on the counter, and it fell over, spilling the powder on my phone’s speaker, filling up a hundred little holes with white dust.

Uncle.

There’s a saying in the self-help word—no feeling is final—so I keep thinking that my bad mood about everything going on with me will eventually pass (or I will). Wayne Dyer says, “In all of nature, no storm can last forever,” so I’m reminding myself that I’ve been through storms before, especially storms dealing with health issues I didn’t think would go away. A couple of years ago, I had little warts on my face (also not sexy), and I made monthly trips to the dermatologist for over a year. The doctor kept saying that one day they’d go away, and one day—they did. It just took a lot of time and a lot of patience.

So I know the yeast thing will level out at some point. This morning I felt like quitting, but this afternoon I went to the natural food store and talked to one of those weird natural food store people about what’s been going on. I thought, I can do this—I can try something else.

The lady at the store said my body was worn out (and all God’s people said Amen) and recommended a probiotic with at least 50 billion (!) bacteria, but she said it had to be refrigerated, so I said I’d have to come back when I wasn’t on my way to the library to use the free Internet. But the lady also said that I could up my garlic, to which I replied, “UP YOUR GARLIC, Lady!”

Okay, I didn’t actually say that.

Lastly, the lady said that I could apply coconut oil topically. So while I was at the library, I looked up coconut oil and garlic for yeast infections because I was intrigued. Honestly, I’m not sure the Internet was a lot of help, but I did come across an interesting article about a woman who put a clove of garlic up her who-ha in order to get rid of a yeast infection. (I guess that would also be a creative way to ward off vampires.) Anyway, I’ll try just about anything once, but I draw the line at vegetable suppositories.

So this evening before I went for a walk, I got out the coconut oil and rubbed it under my armpits. And actually, for a while, things didn’t smell so bad. But that was a few hours ago, and as I sit here in my tank top, I keep getting a whiff of myself and am not amused. It smells like a dead animal. And by it, I mean me. (Things not to put on a dating profile.)

However, I’m determined to get this problem figured out, and that’s one of the reasons I believe in the soul. (Bet you didn’t see that coming.) What I mean is that no matter how hard life kicks me in the balls and no matter how frustrated I get about it, there’s a part of me that never seems to be fazed, and I don’t think that sounds like the human ego. I don’t think that sounds like anything made of flesh. Maybe stardust. Of course, if it is the soul, it’s just a whisper, a still, small voice reminding me where I came from and what I’m really made of. “Keep going,” it says. “You’ve got this. The storm will pass soon enough.”

[My friend Matt from summer camp did the drawing, at least his wife and I think he did. I’m assuming that was the year I taught tennis, so I would have been sixteen. Apparently I’ve been having rough days for a while now.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Go easier on yourself.

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a Mexican soap opera (blog #10)

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Late last night, right before I went to bed, I noticed the lymph nodes in my armpits were swollen. Like, one minute they weren’t swollen, and the next minute they were. (The above photo was taken earlier in the evening, before all my pit problems.) I tried to raise my arms to take my shirt off, and it felt like someone had inserted two lemons up in there, one on each side. So I Googled the problem, decided it was cancer, and went to bed hoping for a miracle. (I don’t recommend using Google when you don’t feel well.)

This may come as a surprise, but the miracle didn’t show. I woke up in the middle of the night with chills. So I put on a shirt, grabbed an extra blanket, and went back to sleep. Then I woke up again with a fever.

When I was a teenager, I started getting sinus infections, although I’m not sure that I understood back then exactly what was going on. I just knew that I would feel terrible, gross, and lethargic. For the last twenty years, on average, I’ve probably gotten a sinus infection once every two to three months, each infection lasting a couple of weeks. Looking back, it feels like I have just as many memories of being sick as I do of being well.

For the longest time, I believed that getting sick was a result of sin because, you know, I’m such a terrible person. So I thought if I could just follow the right rules or say the right prayer, I’d stop getting sick. Well, I guess God’s pretty hard to please, since I could never seem to get better.

At some point, I stopped believing that God worked that way. But as I think about it now, I realize that I still put a lot of pressure on myself because I started believing that I could get better if I just followed the right rules in terms of diet and holistic health (which, by the way, didn’t work any better than following God’s rules).

Even now, whenever I get sick, there’s part of me that feels I’ve done something wrong, like it’s my fault. It’s a lot better than it used to be, but it’s the most frustrating thing, this feeling like I’m doing everything I know to do, and I’m still getting sick on a regular basis.

Several years ago, I dated a guy who looked a lot like Buddy Holly. Honestly, he’s probably the kindest, sweetest person I’ve ever dated. But he was also a lot younger than I was, and my therapist says it’s really hard to date someone whose brain hasn’t fully developed, especially when yours has. Anyway, the night before we broke up, I’m sitting up in bed, and he comes in the room and straddles me like I’m horse. (As it turns out, he didn’t want me to run away.) And then he starts wagging his finger in my face and says, “You told me you loved me, and then I fell in love with you, and NOW you’re telling me you don’t know what you want? WELL YOU BETTER FIGURE IT OUT!”

When I told my therapist this story, she said, “Did he think he was on a Mexican soap opera?” So now that’s what we call him on the rare occasion his name comes up—Mexican Soap Opera. (I’m sure he has names for me too.)

So the next day, when things are seriously over, he starts crying. And he says, “I did everything right.” And I start crying too because he did, and I know what that feels like, to work your ass off in a relationship and have it turn to shit anyway. I know what it’s like to spend all your money and time going to doctors and alternative doctors—pharmacies and health food stores—and still get sick. And all of it sucks. All of it feels like failure, like you’re not good enough.

All of it feels like a Mexican soap opera.

A couple of months ago, finally, I had sinus surgery. I could probably write a blog post about that experience alone, so I’ll spare you the details for now. But as it turns out, it wasn’t God’s fault, and it wasn’t my fault either. I’m sure you’re excited to hear about it, so here’s a picture from the day of the surgery to hold you over.

Getting back to my swollen armpits, I spent this afternoon feeling frustrated about not feeling better, about getting sick—again. My consolation was that I wasn’t sick with a sinus infection. This was a NEW problem, which actually made it feel less like a failure. So early this evening, I went to a walk-in clinic, and the doctor squeezed and poked my armpits like he was shopping for avocadoes.

He said that I had a bacterial infection, probably due to the fact that I had sinus surgery recently and two fillings at the dentist a couple of days ago. He said he couldn’t point to one specific cause, that it was “a soup.” (This reminds me of the time my urologist told me that “dilution is the solution to the pollution,” and I said, “Did they teach you that in medical school?”) Anyway, the doctor today said surgery and dental work are invasive procedures, and it’s easy for the bacteria in your body to get out of hand. One minute things are fine, and the next minute things turn into a Mexican soap opera.

So the doctor prescribed an antibiotic, and he told me I shouldn’t wear deodorant for a while, which I’m sure all my friends will appreciate.

Somewhere I heard the story about a mystic or a monk who performed a wedding for a couple, and during the ceremony, he took a stick or something and started lightly tapping them over their heads. He kept saying, “Pain is not a punishment. Pleasure is not a reward. Pain is not a punishment. Pleasure is not a reward.”

I guess for the longest time, I’ve put all his pressure on myself when it comes to my health (and relationships and money), like, YOU BETTER FIGURE IT OUT. But I think the lesson about pain and pleasure is the perfect reminder on days like today. Just because I feel bad, it doesn’t mean I’ve done something wrong. It doesn’t mean life hates me. Likewise, just because I fell good, it doesn’t mean I’ve done something right. Sickness and health come and go, just like everything else. It’s just the way life is. And even if it’s not, I don’t have to have all the answers. (Obviously, that’s what Google’s for.)

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"No one's story should end on the ground."