When You Find Yourself at Your Worst (Blog #948)

Ugh. It’s almost one in the morning, and I’m just now writing. Thanks to Daylight Savings, today was technically longer than usual (25 instead of 23 hours), but seriously, where did it go? This morning my aunt and I went to breakfast, then this afternoon we went antique shopping. Then I drove home (from Tulsa), taught a dance lesson, and had dinner. Then I unpacked and helped my parents with some stuff. Now here I am–braindead and unsure of what to say.

More than anything else, I’m tired. My body wants to sleep. Still, I’m pushing it to stay awake and function, and this is causing me to be increasingly frustrated. I want to throw this laptop across the room and screw this entire project. Like, what’s it gotten me anyway? Never mind the fact that it’s changed my entire life for the better. In this moment, I’m over it.

I’ve heard Caroline Myss say that we should be less concerned about who we are when we’re at our best and more concerned about who we are when we’re at our worst. You know, when we want to throw things across the room, curse people out, spend money we don’t have, and run away. According to Myss, the reason we should be concerned about this side of ourselves (rather than just chalking it up to being tired or blaming our mood on someone or something other than ourselves) is because this is the side of us that’s really running the show, influencing our health and relationships. Think about it. You don’t have an upset stomach because most of the day you’re calm; you have an upset stomach because part of the day you’re a powder keg. You don’t break up with your ex because they’re a total monster; you break up with your ex because they’re a partial monster (and yet it matters).

For me, the answer’s not about getting rid of any frustration or anger. It’s not even about not blowing up, although I think it’s wise to keep one’s outbursts to a minimum. Rather, it’s about becoming intimately acquainted with all parts of myself. This starts first with acknowledging any and all feelings (physical sensations) and emotions (states of mind) I’m having, and second with giving them a home.

I’ll explain.

This morning at breakfast I told my aunt that I have a ritual I go through whenever I buy new things. For example, with clothes I take the tags off, sometimes wash the clothes, and always hang them up or put them in a drawer. With books I remove any stickers, then put the books on my shelves. “You HOME them,” my aunt said. “You give them a home.”

Getting back to the idea of our feelings and emotions, I’m suggesting that if I were to blow up and throw my laptop across the room, I would NOT be giving my feelings and emotions a place to live. I might be expressing them, I might be externalizing them, but I would also be distancing myself from, well, myself. This is the deal whether you’re externalizing your emotions (biting someone’s head off) or internalizing your emotions (stuffing them down and pretending they don’t exist), you end up taking part of yourself and putting it “over there.” Consequently, you cut yourself off from valuable information. For example, when I’m able to sit with my tiredness and frustration and ask them what they have to say (rather than ask them to leave), they tell me that I’m pushing myself too hard, that I’m asking too much of myself mentally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually.

“Whooooaaa, Trigger,” they say.

Admittedly, my first instinct is NOT to home my feelings and emotions. When I’m upset, I’d much rather throw a fit or stuff things down than actually get curious about what’s going on. That was one of Myss’s points when she said that we should be concerned with who we are at our worst. Not like, oh, there’s a serious problem, but like, oh, I wonder why I do that. For example, one of my triggers is being told what to do, but at this point in the game I know it has nothing to do with anyone who happens to be offering me unsolicited advice. Rather, it has to do with my fears and insecurities about being able to take care of myself, about whether I know enough or am enough. Like, I should have it all figured out, and if someone’s telling me what to do, that clearly means I don’t.

If it’s not obviously, these last few statements are bullshit beliefs. Myss would call them spells, things that aren’t true but that we buy into and that have (huge) influence over us nonetheless. The good news is that once you become aware of your bullshit beliefs, you can do something about them. How do you become aware of your beliefs? Get to know yourself. HOME your feelings and emotions and listen to what they have to tell you. Get to know your triggers. When you find yourself at your worst, consider that you’re being given a window into your psyche and soul. Say, “Whoooooaaa, Trigger, this is an opportunity for me to grow. This is a chance for me to really change.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Aren’t you perfect just the way you are?

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The View Is Better at the Top (Blog #947)

Currently I’m in Tulsa. This afternoon I visited a friend in the nursing home then did some window shopping. Well, I did buy a sock cap from a favorite vintage clothing store of mine that’s apparently closing their brick and mortar store. “The owner is moving everything online,” the clerk said.

Everything changes.

At one antique store I found a set of unique bookends that weren’t priced, so I asked the owner if they were for sale. “Yes,” he said, “for twenty-five dollars.” Well, since this was more than I wanted to spend, I said, “Thank you.” But then I added, “Would you take twenty?” Unfortunately, he said no. “I shouldn’t,” he said, “twenty-five really is a deal.” And whereas he was probably being honest–I looked up similar bookends online later, and most of them were north of fifty or sixty dollars–I still walked away from the purchase. Just because something is a deal, doesn’t mean you have to buy it.

Along these lines, my therapist says, “Just because you have a skill, doesn’t mean you have to use it.” For example, I’m good at teaching dance. I know that about myself. But despite the fact that I’ve invested a lot of time and money in dance–and still teach now and then–it’s not what I want to do forever. My heart and soul were in it at one time, but they’re elsewhere now, in writing and other creative endeavors. I’ll always love dancing–I’m going to a swing dance shortly–but it’s not what I want to do professionally forever.

Everything changes.

On the way to town today I started listening to a lecture by Caroline Myss called The Power of Modern Day Spell Casters. (It’s available for free when you sign up for her newsletter here.) So far, it’s glorious, and challenging. The idea is that any belief you have that directs your spirit and behavior qualifies as a spell that you’re under. For example, I’ve spoken before about going to dances out of town and feeling insecure in a big way–because I’m not the best dancer in the room, because strangers don’t talk to me, ask me to dance, or compliment  me. In short, I show up to a perfectly neutral dance hall and make it all about me. But getting back to the point, the only reason I do this is because I’m under a spell, because I’ve bought into the beliefs that my value has something to do with my dance ability and that perfect strangers should affirm me verbally.

How do you break a spell? According to Myss, you change the rules of the game. You change your behavior. For me, this would mean going up to strangers at dances rather than waiting on them to come up to me. It would mean given them compliments. In short, it would mean setting the tone for my own life and taking responsibility for my own fun.

Since the beginning, every time I write a blog I categorize it. I have over a dozen categories that blogs fall into on a regular basis–including Abundance, Letting Go, and Therapy and Healing–but, by far, the category I use the most is Perspective. And whereas early on I used Perspective as my “I don’t know what else to call it” category, I’ve come to believe it’s the most important. Because your perspective, how you see yourself, others, and the world around you, is everything. This is big, so I’m going to say it again.

How you see yourself, others, and the world around you is everything.

Myss explains perspective or perception like this. If you lived on the first story of a high-rise building in New York City and all you ever did was look out your window, you’d think the world was smelly, dirty, smoggy, and generally gross. But if you lived on the top floor of that same building and all you ever did was look out your window, you’d think the world was vast, full of lights and stars, and generally glorious. Either way you’d be in the same building, and either way–at least in your world–you’d be right.

In this analogy, the building is you–where you were born, who your parents are, how tall you are, how old you are. The floor you’re on is your perceptions, the beliefs or spells that run your life. Ground floor beliefs come from our tribes, religions, and families–we’re not like them, you can only make so much money, you are a worm. Top floor beliefs come from our souls–all is one, the faith of a mustard seed can move mountains, you are a child of God. And whereas you can’t change buildings, you can change floors. You can change the way you see things. The deal, however, is that once you change your perspective, you have to be ready for everything else to shift too. As I’ve said before, my world (including my friends, possessions, and finances) has been turned upside down since I really got serious, got in therapy, and started daily reflection with this blog.

Usually people say, “Everything changes” and mean, “Everything changes–and that’s a shame.” But the perspective you want to hold on to as you consciously change beliefs, break spells, and ascend floors is, “Everything changes–and that’s okay.” The view is better at the top.

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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On Intuition, Healing, and Self-Care (Blog #940)

Things I’ve been thinking about today–

1. Intuition and emotions

This morning while cleaning a client’s house I listened to a podcast that pointed out that intuition speaks to us in a number of ways. For example, gut feelings, dreams, and even messages from other people. Another way intuition speaks to us, it said, is through our emotions. Like a lot of people, I don’t love this fact, since getting information from your emotions requires feeling them first–and I’d much rather think about my feelings than feel them. Still, I’ve written before about how anger lets us know that our boundaries are being violated, so it makes sense to me that even uncomfortable emotions convey information, information we may need.

For example, yesterday I was absolutely exhausted. Consequently, I felt foggy and irritated. Well, for once, I listened to my body. Last night I went to bed at 11:15 PM and slept for almost twelve hours. And whereas I haven’t felt fresh as a daisy today, I have felt better. I’ve been able to keep my eyes open and even work all afternoon.

Framing my tiredness in the context of intuitive information, I can see that my body was letting me know something important, that I needed rest, that I needed self-care. So often we think of intuition as these big flashes of insight or visions or angels that come to us in our sleep. And yet the truth is that we’re being guided every minute of every day. Yesterday I said that life isn’t complicated, and apparently intuition isn’t either. It starts with how you feel right here, right now.

2. Healing

As I just mentioned, I slept a good part of the day yesterday. And whereas my first instinct when my body is dragging is to think that something is wrong, today I’ve been thinking it’s possible that something is right. Caroline Myss points out that when you’re sick, you really don’t know what it is that needs healing. Sure, you may have certain symptoms you want to go away, but what if those symptoms are there to alert you to something more important–poor boundaries with others, for example, or less than ideal dietary choices? Along these lines, I’ve been thinking that my body’s cry for sleep could quite simply be a cry for healing. That is, how do I know what’s being fixed while I slumber? I’ve changed a lot mentally and emotionally these last several years, and to think that my body doesn’t need a chance to “catch up” would be ridiculous. More and more I think that I don’t have to understand why my body’s asking for something, so much as I simply have to give it what it’s asking for.

3. Self-care and time management

When I went to bed early last night, the productive part of me was worried that I wouldn’t have enough time today to clean my client’s house and do everything else I had planned for this evening. (I’m having dinner with my family later then going out with friends.) Well, my worries were unfounded. This morning and afternoon I began tackling my chores. And whereas I’m not completely done, I’m close enough and can finish tomorrow. This afternoon I mentally worked out the rest of my day. I thought, If I work until five, then blog for an hour and fifteen minutes, that will give me thirty minutes to shower and get to dinner and so on. Two years ago I wouldn’t have planned at all. I would have waited until after going out to blog and, consequently, would have really been exhausted. But currently I’m not worried, frantic, or tired. I have twenty minutes to get this blog posted, then I can enjoy the rest of my evening. This is another way to care for yourself–manage your time well.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If you’re making yourself up to get someone else’s approval–stop it–because you can’t manipulate anyone into loving you. People either embrace you for who and what you are–or they don’t.

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Life Isn’t Complicated (Blog #939)

WTF? I’ve been tired all day. This morning I woke up at ten, then went back to sleep until noon. Then I ate breakfast, read a book, and took a two hour nap until four-thirty. Now it’s 10:15, and I’m about to fall out of the chair I’m sitting in. Seriously, I don’t know what the deal is. I can barely keep my eyes open. I hope I’m not dying. That would suck. I’m sure I’m not. Don’t send flowers just yet. Other than being tired, I feel fine. Exhausted, worn out, and run down (and as long as I’m being honest, irritated about it all), but fine.

Recently I heard Caroline Myss say that the thing we all have in common is that life isn’t working out for us like we want it to. Ain’t that the truth, Ruth? Take today, for example. I’d wanted to read more and exercise (I’m trying to get in shape here), but my body said no. This is mostly why I’m irritated. Because I had plans but haven’t been able to do them. Currently I’m house sitting and have some chores to do, but–quite frankly–I’m not sure they’re going to happen. Unless, of course, one of the chores is “snore.”

Lately I’ve been exploring the idea of slowing down and being okay with it, and clearly I’ve still got some work to do. That is, I’m fine with slowing down in theory, but slowing down in practice is more difficult. At least for more than half an hour. I suppose this is because I get such a good feeling when I’m being productive and, thus, my self-esteem is tied up in my being busy. I don’t feel worthless when I’m lying around, but I do feel worth less. Granted, there’s nothing wrong with accomplishing things, but there’s also nothing wrong with not accomplishing things. Especially when “not accomplishing things” means taking care of your body and soul.

Several times since I started therapy, my therapist has had to postpone or cancel my appointments due to her being sick or a family member being sick. Once she had to take off for a number of weeks. “I can’t be present with myself and my loved ones and still be present with my clients,” she explained, “so I need some time off. I preach self-care to others, and I intend to practice what I preach.” I’ve been thinking a lot about this. I run a blog about self-care, and although I think I do well with the mental aspect of health, I don’t do so well with the physical. Whenever my body asks me to rest, I usually say, “Okay, but let me get some work done first.” No wonder my body occasionally slams on the brakes.

As I see it, my body being tired is an opportunity for me to practice what I’ve been preaching lately–slowing down and being okay with it. I imagine I’ll gain a hundred pounds if I don’t exercise today, but the truth is I won’t and there will be plenty of time for exercising later. I imagine I have to get all my chores done tonight, but the truth is I have all weekend. Or even next week if I need it. One of the things I need to do is mow the lawn, but because it’s been raining nonstop for two days I couldn’t mow the lawn even if I felt like it. I’ve said a number of times that “things happen when they happen” and that I believe in divine timing, so now’s my chance to act like it. Life isn’t complicated. How do I know I need to rest now? I’m tired.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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For all of the things life takes away, it gives so much more in return. Whether we realize it or not, there’s always grace available.

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

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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You’re exactly where you need to be.

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The Good Enough Club (Blog #910)

It’s 9:15 in the evening, and I don’t know what to talk about. Hum. This morning my dad and I got up early and drove to Oklahoma to pick up his sister (my aunt), who’s been visiting her son and grandchildren. I did all the driving because my dad’s recently had his driving privileges revoked by my mother. He’s having a pacemaker put in next week and has been told, “You could pass out at any minute.” Well, he’s stubborn. On our way to Oklahoma today he kept saying, “Would you like me to drive? What about now? I could drive us home. Is now okay?”

“No,” I said. “No, no, and no.”

I get it. It’s always frustrating to accept your limitations. Last year I had knee surgery to repair my ACL (which I tore when I jumped over someone’s head–well, it wasn’t the jumping part that hurt me, it was the landing), and even now there are things I can’t do. But seriously, when you’re used to going wherever the hell you want whenever the hell you want to, it sucks to be tied down (unless you’re into that sort of thing). It blows to be dependent on someone else, even if that person is glad to help you. All I can say is that it gets better. And even if it doesn’t (let’s face it, sometimes things don’t), your attitude can change.

Caroline Myss tells the story of a wheelchair-bound woman named Ruth, who when she was younger and fully mobile had an out-of-body experience and was shown by her guides (angels) that she would eventually become physically disabled. Obviously, this vision came true. But what struck Caroline wasn’t the angel experience but the fact that Ruth had the best attitude about her handicap. Ruth said something like, “Before this happened I was absolutely crippled by fear, and now the fear is gone. As far as I’m concerned, I’m free.” This is the power of the human spirit. Those things that challenge us, that we think are robbing us of something, can actually give us something far greater in return.

Ask yourself: Would I rather be free on the outside, or free on the inside?

For the last almost two months I’ve been painting the inside of a friend’s rent house. Room by room I’ve slowly made progress. Well, today I finished the kitchen, the last room in the main section of the house. (There’s also a garage area that we’re still deciding what to do with.) This is a weird feeling, working so long at something and then–in an afternoon–being done. It’s how I felt at the end of my leg rehab. Well, I made it. Sure, there’s always more I COULD do, both at the house and with my knee. Your inner perfectionist can always find more to do. But for a while I’ve really been buying into this idea of The Good Enough Club.

The Good Enough Club: Where Things Are Okay As They Are and Perfectionists Aren’t Allowed.

This being said, I’m glad my perfectionist was around for this painting job. He made sure certain spots got three coats of paint instead of two. He made sure I didn’t do a half-assed job. Still, is everything absolutely perfect? Of course not. First of all, it’s an old house. Second of all, there’s no such thing.

As I see it, it’s fine to be a perfectionist about certain things. It’s fine to have high standards. But you’ve got to be able to turn that shit off. Because if left unchecked your perfectionist will push you past the limits of reason. It will demand more of you than you can give. It will always find something wrong. This job isn’t good enough. This body isn’t good enough. The fact that I can’t (drive, walk, dance) isn’t good enough. I need things to be a certain way or I can’t be happy.

None of this, of course, is actually true. You can be happy from where you are.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"We were made to love without conditions. That's the packaging we were sent with."

On Things I Claim to Believe (Blog #904)

Yesterday I was supposed to be a dance gigolo, but the gig got cancelled. And whereas a part of me was like, Crap, there goes that money, most of me was like, Something else will come along. Because of this incident, I’ve thought a lot today about two things I claim to believe–1) the idea that things happen for a reason and 2) the idea of divine timing, that everything happens when it’s supposed to. Because both these ideas are easy to profess but harder to really animate when the rubber hits the road. Like, whenever I’m counting on a certain amount of income and a client says, “Let’s forget about it,” my faith in “God knows what he’s doing” starts to falter.

As if God’s primary concern were my bank account.

Another thing I claim to believe is that God works in mysterious ways. To me this means that–really–none of us know why anything happens or doesn’t happen. In terms of my plans changing last night, it could be that had I driven out of town, I would have hit a deer (or worse). Or I could have had such a miserable time that the money wouldn’t have been worth it. (As it was, I had a delightful evening.) Caroline Myss says that when you pray for things, you don’t get to tell God how to answer you. Well, I’ve asked for a body that feels as good as possible as well as for healthy relationships, and it’s possible my going out of town last night would have been out of alignment with those requests.

This must be a lesson the universe really wants me to get, since this afternoon I drove all the way to Fort Smith for an appointment only to find out that it too was cancelled. (The person whom I was meeting had sent me a message that they were sick, but I didn’t get it because my phone network was down.) Anyway, it was forty-five minutes of my day that felt completely wasted and unproductive. Again, part of me was like, This blows. But most of me was like, We are not going to complain. We’re alive and well and have been given an opportunity to relax–to NOT be productive. We are going to be grateful. And it was that simple. I wouldn’t let myself throw a fit.

My advice–don’t let yourself throw a fit.

Tonight I went to a swing dance at the studio where I tore my ACL this last December. This was my first time back since the accident. When I was getting ready I actually thought about wearing the same (slightly oversized) shoes I was wearing when the accident happened, like, I’ll show you, slippery floor, but decided against it. Instead, I wore shoes that hug my feet and have stickier bottoms. And guess what? I didn’t hurt myself.

Of course, I didn’t attempt to jump over anyone’s head either.

Y’all, dancing tonight was the best thing. I saw and danced with several people I know and, in the process, got in some serious cardio. By the time the night was over, I was sopping wet.

Here’s a video (taken by my friend Sydnie) of my friend Renee and me Lindy Hopping to Caro Emerald’s Completely.

 

Wow. So much has happened since the last time I was dancing on that floor. I remember the night of the accident. I couldn’t get out the front doors by myself. Someone had to support me. There are times when I get frustrated because my knee and I can’t do everything we used to, but–really–it’s a miracle that we’re dancing at all. Also, I keep calling it an accident, but another idea I claim to believe is that there are no accidents. In other words, at least in my best moments, I believe that my injuring my leg, on some level, needed (knee-dead) to happen. I can’t say why–that’s above my pay grade–but I do know the whole experience has given me more compassion, patience, and understanding for both myself and others, and that’s enough for me.

The way I see it, if you say you believe something, at some point you’ve got to start acting like it. “Acting like it,” indeed, is an accurate way of describing what you’ll be doing at first. That is, until you get the hang of it, you won’t feel patient or understanding when someone cancels on you, or when something terrible happens. My therapist says, “Fake it until you make it.” Now, I don’t know that any of us ever “make it.” I doubt it will ever become fun for life to throw you a curve ball. But I do think it gets easier to accept what is (gracefully) if you can slow down and remind yourself that even frustrating or “terrible” things can contribute to your growth.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Boundaries aren’t something you knock out of the park every time.

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On Sacrifice and Suffering (Blog #902)

Mythology. There’s an idea in mythology that in order for something new to be born, something old must die. This is illustrated in the phoenix having to die before it could rise from the ashes, Jesus having to die before he could rise from the grave, and some poor pig having to die before you could eat breakfast. Simply put, death is required for life. (It’s gross, I know.) This is why so many biblical tales feature sacrifices.

Sacrifice. That’s what I’ve been thinking about today, the fact that the giving up of one thing is required for the receiving of another. Not that I’m suggesting you go out and purchase an altar. This is all symbolic, of course. For example, this week I started a rather strict diet that includes intermittent fasting, not eating for sixteen hours out of the day. This, indeed, is a sacrifice. I’m giving up sweets, breakfast, and midnight snacks. Honestly, it feels like a death, a violent one. There’s weeping of gnashing of teeth. But I want the new life that’s on the other side of this–feeling better, fitting into my pants again–so I’m willing to pay the price.

Everything comes with a price. In the television show Once Upon a Time, Rumpelstiltskin often said, “Magic comes with a price.” And whereas most people think of magic as all smoke and mirrors, something for television, I actually believe in it. Not like magic as in Harry Potter–Leviosa!–but magic as in–what else do you call the fact that there are stars in the sky or the fact that you were born here or the fact that certain people (or opportunities) show up in your life at exactly the right time? Do these things “just happen”? Sometimes, yes. There’s some amount of grace we all experience simply because we’re alive. But certain magic requires action on your part. Joesph Campbell said, “Follow your bliss and the universe will open doors for you where there were only walls.” In other words, you have to do something–follow your bliss, and it’s harder than it sounds–if you want the magic doors to open. You have to sacrifice. You have to pay the price.

The price. This evening I watched the final episode in Caroline Myss’s Sacred Power. I can’t recommend this series enough. Granted, Caroline doesn’t pull any punches. It’s not always fun stuff to listen to. But it’s needed. Tonight’s episode presented the idea that the consequence of living a congruent life (in which your head–what you think–and your heart–what you feel–are aligned) is that your life is going to change. Caroline says, “[Congruence] changes your life because it changes the speed at which you understand things.” And whereas this sounds great if you say it fast, it’s not–because it means you have to grow up and do something about whatever it is you understand. (This takes balls.) For example, I once dated someone and knew–deep down–on our first date that we weren’t right for each other. But we dated for three years because I didn’t trust my gut, because–and here’s the kicker–I didn’t trust myself. Were there good times? Absolutely. But the price I paid for thinking one thing and feeling another (for my head and my heart being disconnected) was that when the relationship ended, I was shattered.

Congruence. Now, after years of therapy and a lot of practice, I trust myself more. This year I’ve gone on dates and known in my gut–this guy’s an alcoholic, this guy’s on drugs. I’ve met people and known immediately–they have terrible boundaries. And not that in every case I’ve walked away, but sometimes I have. At the very least, I’ve proceeded with my eyes wide open. Now, I’ll never be able to prove that I’ve saved myself a lot of heartache, drama, and suffering, but I’m convinced I have. This too is a form of sacrifice–giving up one’s emotional pain for, in some cases, a night at home alone.

Suffering. Unfortunately, sacrifice is often associated with suffering. The story of Christ on the cross probably has something to do with this. That being said, there’s a story in The Acts of John that Christ danced on his way to the cross. This means he willingly gave up (sacrificed) his life for the resurrection and all that came with it. He said, “Not my will, but yours.” This is how I think sacrifice is best approached. Open your arms. Let it go, Nancy. Does it suck to give up chocolate cake for breakfast, a date with a hot guy, or time with someone fun? Sure. But it sucks worse to damage your body, date a train wreck, and be friends with someone who isn’t really your friend at all. Said another say, you either pay now, or you pay even more later.

I suggest paying now.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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A Little Song, a Little Dance, a Little Seltzer Down Your Pants (Blog #899)

This afternoon I went shopping with a friend. The whole point of our getting out was for them to find a jacket. Alas, they couldn’t find one. So they bought a shirt, and I bought three. And a pair of pants. Gosh, living was a lot cheaper when I was in mourning, when I wore the same black shirt every day. (Johnny Cash really knew what he was doing.) That being said, I have no regrets. What’s the saying? Variety is the spice of life.

After shopping, my friend and I went out to dinner, a late birthday celebration. (My birthday was two days ago.) And whereas I won’t go into everything we discussed while shopping and eating (because it doesn’t matter and, more importantly, I don’t remember), I will say we laughed a lot. That’s one of the things I adore about me and this particular friend–we’re always cracking up.

Caroline Myss says, “Think about whether you truly have a sense of humor. [My thought–if you have to think about it, you don’t.] Healing is enhanced with humor, and laughter can lighten almost anything–certainly most day-to-day irritations. Your goal: to bring humor to everything that causes you stress, as this is one of the most empowered responses you can have.”

How does this work? Well, if you don’t have a sense of humor, I’m not sure. But if you do, it’s simply a matter of perspective, how you choose to see something. In terms of “day-to-day irritations,” for example, this morning I was trying to pick up a few items to put in the recycle bin–with one hand. Well, I dropped them everywhere. And whereas my first response was, Fuck!, my second response was laughter. It’s like I could see it happening to someone else in a movie, and all of a sudden it was funny. This morning, because our dog made a mess last night, I used a green rag to clean a section of the carpet of the room I’m currently in and ended up turning the carpet light green. I told Mom about it tonight, and she said, “Don’t worry, that carpet’s shit anyway.”

Perspective.

In terms of major drama/trauma, my therapist says, “Tragedy plus time equals comedy.” This, I think, is why minorities (Jews, African Americans, women, gays) often make the best stand-up comedians. They’ve been through hell. What’s left if you go through hell and manage to survive in one piece? A joke. Not that you should laugh about your personal tragedies every minute of every day, but you should at least be able to laugh about them sometimes, with certain people. I can’t tell you the number of times my therapist and I have joked about what most people would consider pretty serious stuff. If someone were listening to us, they might think, Talk about dark humor. But my therapist says some things are just “too much” to deal with head-on all the time.

There’s an episode of The Mary Tyler Moore Show about the death of Chuckles the Clown. The guys in the newsroom think the whole situation is hilarious. At the funeral one of them says, “We’ll know who the rest of the clowns are when they all jump out of a little hearse.” But Mary doesn’t see the humor. “A man has died,” she says. Finally, in the middle of the memorial, Mary starts giggling. When the priest quotes Chukles’s motto–a little song, a little dance, a little seltzer down your pants–Mary bursts out laughing. The guys are confused, but the priest encourages her to laugh. “Chuckles would have wanted you to,” he says. At which point Mary starts sobbing.

To me this scene illustrates the fact that sadness and happiness, tragedy and comedy, are closely related–and there needs to a balance. That is, if there’s something in your life you’ve only ever been sad about, maybe it’s time to find the humor in it. Even if it’s just the humor of saying, “This is my frickin’ life.” Conversely, if there’s something you’ve only ever joked about, maybe it’s time to cry about it. Maybe you’re using your humor not as a way to heal, but as a way to avoid healing, a way to avoid really dealing with something, a way to avoid dealing with yourself.

How do you know the difference?

Personally, I think, What am I running away from? If I’m making jokes in order to not express anger, draw boundaries, or have an uncomfortable conversation, it’s not really helping me heal. If I’m making light of the heavy situations in my life in order to keep from falling apart, and falling apart is really what I need to do, it’s not helping me heal. But if I’m doing The Hard Work and am willing to sit with any and every emotion that comes up, then I’m practicing acceptance. That’s what you want to get to, and humor is one way to do it. After you’ve cried and raged, humor can open a door and let acceptance in. Laughter can help you really let go of the past and embrace your life not only for what it’s been, but also for what it is. “A little song, a little dance, a little seltzer down your pants” can–finally–transport you back to right here, right now.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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For all of the things life takes away, it gives so much more in return. Whether we realize it or not, there’s always grace available.

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On Growing Up (Blog #897)

Well, hello. Today is my birthday. Thirty-nine years ago I came charging into this world. And whereas I’ve slowed down–a little–I’m still going. (Look out, future, here I come, at my own pace.) All day my dad’s been telling total strangers it’s my birthday. Thankfully, none of them have sung to me or put a sombrero on my head. But this afternoon a waitress did say, “Thirty-nine! Time flies! Where does it go?”

“Behind you,” I said.

Byron Katie says, “Do you know what I love about the past? It’s over.”

Amen. Thirty-nine years. Over.

To celebrate my big day, this morning my dad and I got up early–at six-thirty–and went to Irish Maid Donuts. This is something we normally only do on Father’s Day and his birthday, but I guess it’s becoming our thing. You won’t hear any complaints from me. From my insulin, maybe.

Diet starts next week.

When dad and I got home from the donut shop, I went back to bed for a few hours. When I got up, my mom, my dad, two of my aunts, and I went to The Egg and I for more celebrating, more eating. This is what my entire weekend promises to be filled with–food. And whereas my stomach is already starting to put up a fuss, I plan to hang in there.

Diet starts next week.

So far today over a hundred friends and family members have messaged, texted, posted, or called to wish me happy birthday. This happens every year, but it continues to take my breath away. It’s so easy to think that people don’t care or remember you, but they do. What’s more, if only for a moment, they’re willing to take time out of their day to wish you well. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. No one owes me anything. Not my friends, not my family, not my lovers (well, ex-lovers; I’m currently taking applications). Caroline Myss says that if someone loves you, it’s not because they HAVE to, it’s because they WANT to. When you really get this, it’s a game-changer. When I really get this, it even shifts my perspective about people I don’t want to see again. Not that it makes me want to see them, but it does make me grateful for any love that’s been exchanged between us. Because again–anything I’ve received from another has been a gift, not a payment of a debt owed.

This morning my dad and I had a conversation about liars. We both know a few. I once dated one. Dad said, “Do you think they ever think about the damage they cause?” I said, “I think everyone has a soul and a conscience, so sure, but I also think it takes a big person to just come right out and say, ‘I know I hurt you and I’m sorry.'” Think about it. How often do YOU think you’ve done something wrong? Isn’t it always someone else’s fault? I know that’s how I usually feel, so I can only assume it would be the same for someone else, even someone who lies, cheats, steals, or kills. We all justify our behavior.

I’m talking about this now because as I get older, I think about these things more. How do my words and actions affect others? I know that I’ve broken more than one heart not because I was straight-up lying or cheating but because I was lying to myself (and them) about how compatible we were. That’s what I realized with my ex. I observed their bad behavior but lied to myself (and them) about it not mattering. When it fact it mattered a lot. We think of lies as these big, huge things, but they’re not. They’re subtle things. Little stories we tell ourselves. For example, how many times have you said, “Diet starts next week,” when you know damn good and well it’ll most likely never start at all? This is why the truth is scary. This is why it’s painful. It shows you who you really are. The one who isn’t disciplined. The one who’s too afraid to leave. The one who’s scared to be alone. It cuts you like a knife.

What’s outside you is inside you.

Earlier today a friend posted something like, if you could go back and give your younger self advice in two words, what would you say? People said things like, be strong, be kind, keep going. I thought, get laid, but my answer was, speak up! This has been both one of the best and most difficult things I’ve learned to do since starting therapy–learning to speak my truth. Because looking back, I’ve always known what it was. I knew my ex was a liar, and I knew other exes were cheaters. But again, by not saying something or leaving sooner, I was lying to myself, cheating myself out of something better. This is what “the world is your mirror” means. It means what’s outside you is inside you. It means we all play a part in things. It means no one is to blame.

I hate this as much as you do.

But it’s part of growing up.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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The clearer you see what's going on inside of you, the clearer you see what's going on outside of you. It's that simple.

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