Everyone Has Pus to Deal With (Blog #245)

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Currently it’s just after midnight, I’ve only been awake for ten hours, and I’m worn to a frazzle. I honestly haven’t done much–I went for a walk, attended improv class, bought groceries–but my energy level is squat. (Squat, I say.) Since I tend to obsess about my health, this only concerns me–a lot. Logically I can say that my body feels so much better than a week ago and that my cough has disappeared, so I must be getting better. But logic doesn’t do much good around here–in my brain, that is. All I can think of are the hundred and one reasons why something must be wrong. Maybe I’m not taking enough vitamins. Maybe I’m taking too many vitamins. (That could be it.) Maybe I’m pregnant–my sister says being pregnant can really drain a person.

Honestly, I want to slap myself. Get a grip, Marcus.

I’m not sure where I got the idea that I need to figure my body out. I mean, I think it’s a good idea to be educated about a few things, take a vitamin c every now and then. But in my experience, my body seems to be able to handle most problems on its own. I mean, for an entire year I ran around with little warts on my face, trying everything under the sun to get rid of them. (The internet said to try duct tape!) I think my dermatologist was half-convinced I had HIV because my immune system wasn’t recognizing the invaders on my pretty face. Well, I got tested and was negative. Then one day the warts just went away. Who knows what happened? Maybe my body was just waiting for me to quit trying so hard.

I can just hear it saying, “Would you stop looking over my shoulder and let me do my job, please?”

I guess I have a really hard time with that, letting go of control. I really think a rational human being would say, “Of course I’m tired–I’m healing–that takes energy. I know–here’s an idea–I’ll sleep more!” Like, it could be that simple. Instead I want to complicate things, spend an hour on the internet trying to diagnose myself. This, of course, is a terrible idea. Tonight in improv class I noticed my brain was offline. I felt kind of foggy and couldn’t think of a single funny or witty thing to say. (I still can’t.) Anyway, if you Google “tired, brain fog” and click on more than one article, you’ll walk away wondering how you’re even alive. It’s like I have to tell myself, Step away from the internet, Marcus.

Step away from the internet.

About ten years ago I saw an acupuncturist and Chinese medicine doctor who gave me a magic powder that was supposed to “lock in” health. “Take this on a day when you feel really great,” she said. Well, I never took it. Maybe I just have high standards, but I kept thinking, I could feel better. (I still think that.) So I guess if I weren’t worried about feeling tired, I’d be worried about my allergies, or my high cholesterol, or the fact that my ears crackle and pop sometimes, even though my ear, nose, and throat doctor said, “You’re normal. That’s the way God made you.” Quite frankly, that’s a hard pill for me to swallow, the idea that I’m normal and okay, that it’s normal to always have something going on because the body is forever adapting to an ever-changing environment.

I know we all worry about our health. Both my sister and my mother have been worried about their cholesterol lately. My mom is battling cancer. As of today, my dad is dealing with allergies or a cold, and he has a whole list of other problems as daily struggles–diabetes, high blood pressure, you name it. But if you were to ask him how he’s doing, he’d smile and say, “If I were any better, I’d be twins.” Then there’s his son, who takes to the internet each night to fret about being tired. Honestly, I’m not sure which is better–sweeping your problems under the rug or airing them out on the front porch. Once again, it’s probably a matter of balance.

I’ve been thinking a lot today about community, thinking I could use some more of it. I recently finished re-listening to a Caroline Myss lecture, and she said that the process of growth and self-empowerment first looks like separating from people (in order to find your inner strength), but later looks like reconnecting with them (because life isn’t just about you). Personally, I know I try to do a lot on my own–figure out my problems, whatever. I’m rather independent. And whereas that feels familiar to me, it’s also exhausting, and I’m starting to believe that’s because we’re simply not created that way. Rather, we’re tribal creatures–we’re meant to connect with each other.

This afternoon I ran into our next door neighbor Carree. She pulled up in her Hyundai as I was going for my walk, and since I have a Hyundai too, I couldn’t help but start a conversation about our vehicles. (Incidentally, we both love our Hyundais.) Anyway, we started talking about the blog, and things got real pretty quick. I said, “I’m not sure why I’m so dedicated to it, but I really believe it’s the most important and transformative thing I’ve ever done. Still, it’s hard, working through all your shit every day.” Carree said we all do what my dad does, put on a face and say we couldn’t be better. “But we all have things we’re working though,” she said. “We all have wounds that fester, pus that bubbles up. [Carree’s a nurse.] You either deal with it now or you deal with it later.”

Then she said, “If you ever want to talk, I’m right next door.”

Our burdens are lighter when we share them.

Personally, I don’t think it was an accident that I ran into Carree on the same day I was feeling a little isolated. (I mean, we never run into each other.) I guess it’s easy to assume everyone else has it together, to see your neighbors in their new cars or the celebrity on television and assume they don’t have any problems, that they never have days when every part of them feels like throwing in the towel. And yet everyone has something going on. Everyone worries, struggles, and falls apart at times. Everyone has pus to deal with. But I’m reminded that we truly are all in this together and that our burdens are lighter when we share them. What’s more, there are people out there who want to connect with us, people closer than we think.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We always have more support than we realize.

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Defrosting Your Emotional Freezer (Blog #71)

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This afternoon I helped my dad defrost the freezer in the garage. He said it had been two and half years since it was last defrosted, but it might as well have been ten. There was so much ice caked on the top shelf, there was only enough room for one single-serve pizza from Schwan’s. (Mom LOVES Schwan’s food. And the Schwan’s guy, whoever it happens to be, since he brings the food. He always gets invited in, asked about his kids. Hell, “Schwan’s guy” is probably in her will–above me but beneath my sister.) Anyway, after Dad took out all the Schwan’s boxes, we dragged the freezer into the driveway, hooked up the water hose, and I went to work.

For about twenty minutes, I aimed the water hose at the ice as if I were a fireman (but obviously not a fireman because they put out fires not freezers), watching it slowly melt, break away from the shelves, and then fall to the bottom. When I finished, Dad and I cleaned the mold that had collected on the top and sides of the freezer, as well as on the rubber seal around the door. (It was pretty gross, but don’t you go getting all judgmental. I’m sure your freezer isn’t much better.) Before long, everything was spick and span. After the freezer dried out, Dad hauled it back inside the garage and plugged it back in, and Mom put all the food where she wanted it. I joked that now there was even more room for Schwan’s, and Dad–who prefers bologna and meals purchased with coupons–said, “You could have gone all day without saying that.”

Cleaning out the ice from the freezer made me think about the ways things build up in our lives. I know that for the longest time I held on to physical objects. Slowly, things came in but rarely went out. I’m just one person, but before I knew it, I had enough stuff for a yard sale, then an estate sale. Even though I don’t own many things now, I’ve noticed how easily they still pile up–bills, magazines, t-shirts. Hell, I have so many tubes of medicine in my toiletry bag, earlier today I almost brushed my teeth with hydrocortisone cream. I can only imagine what would have happened if I’d put mint-flavored Sensodyne on my hemorrhoids.

All emotions are useful.

As much as I used to hold on to physical objects, I also held on to emotions. I didn’t know any better, so I just shoved those sons of bitches down in a jar and shut the lid (tight). For the longest time, I rarely showed anger, rarely cried. I was like that meme that went around of a Canadian protest, which showed a man holding a tiny sign that said, “I’m a little upset.” Lately that’s gotten a lot better. Now it’s easier to say, “I’m fucking pissed,” and it’s definitely easier to cry, since I no longer think that it’s embarrassing to do so. My therapist says, “Crying is just like any other emotion, any other bodily function. You don’t apologize when you laugh or when you sweat.”

I like that way of looking at things, that all emotions are equal. That’s how emotions are seen in Chinese medicine. If I understand it correctly, all emotions, even anger, are useful. (Think of an abused person who can’t get angry enough to leave their abuser). It’s only when emotions don’t get expressed properly or get out of balance that there’s a problem.

As I think of it now, I guess letting go–of physical objects or emotions that have been held on to–is a lot like defrosting a freezer. If you want your freezer to do what it was designed to do, defrosting it is an absolute necessity. You have to get rid of the excess. Once you do, stuff can come and go all day long because there’s room for that. But if there’s too much excess, if things are being put in but never taken out, you’re going to end up with a problem. It doesn’t matter if it’s Schwan’s boxes, tubes of hydrocortisone cream, or emotions–too much is too much.

This evening I went to a swing dance in Northwest Arkansas and danced a lot with my friend Sydnie. (That’s her in the picture at the top of the blog.) We talked just as much as we danced. It’s a long story that doesn’t belong to me, but Sydnie told me about someone she knows who’s constipated. (I’m always saying, “Shit happens,” but obviously–for some people–it doesn’t.) Anyway, I’ll spare you the details and just say I think constipation is another example of what can happen when we’re not able to let go.

Earlier this week in therapy, my therapist and I were talking about biting your tongue, which is something I did a lot of in the past. She said that biting your tongue always hurts, and it’s also inauthentic, just like shoving your emotions into a jar is inauthentic. Plus, at some point, there’s not any room left in the jar, just like there may not be any room left in your t-shirt drawer. And when that happens, emotions start to leak out. Maybe you yell at strangers in traffic, maybe you cry for no reason when a song comes on the radio. Sydnie said, “When you can’t shit–you feel like shit,” and I took that to mean that whether it’s literal shit or emotional shit, eventually it’s all gotta come out because it doesn’t feel good to hold it in. Sooner or later, all freezers need to be defrosted.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can't build a house, much less a life, from the outside-in. Rather, if you want something that's going to last, you have to start on the inside and work your way out, no matter how long it takes and how difficult it is.

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