On Tumbling Down the Hill (Blog #647)

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It’s after midnight, and I just finished my third set of rehab exercises for the day. Phew. It was a little tough to squeeze all three sets in today, since I did a lot of running around. Well, limping around. My left knee still doesn’t allow me to do a lot. I can walk, but not fast. Still, people keep saying it really is amazing that I’m no longer on crutches. Personally, I’m over it, ready for this nightmare to be finished. Every day I wake up, slog my way through my rehab routine, and pretend this isn’t my life. Then I go to bed, wake up the next day, and discover it still is.

This afternoon I helped a friend take down their outdoor Christmas lights, and you should have seen us. A senior citizen and a crippled trying to bend down and unwrap a string a of lights from around a tree trunk. We used every curse word we knew. But we did it–we did it! We even made a trip to Walmart for a storage bin, and I managed to not only get in and out of their low-riding car, but also drag my bum leg halfway across the store and back. My friend suggested I use one of those little scooters, and I said, “I do have SOME pride left.”

On the way home from Walmart, my friend and I stopped at Walgreens to pick up anti-inflammatories for me. (I forgot them at Walmart.) Then we grabbed some fried chicken and took it back to their house for dinner. There we laughed and laughed. I don’t even remember about what. I just remember that for a while, I didn’t remember any of my problems.

That was nice.

When I left my friend’s, I met my other friend Bonnie, and we went to see a movie–Mary Poppins Returns. Ugh. Talk about a delightful show. I laughed, I cried, my life was changed. Stop everything you’re doing and go see it now.

There’s a big dance number in the show called Trip a Little Light Fantastic. And whereas I spent the entire song jealous of all the dancers with working knees (that bend and everything), it really was glorious, about how things are always darkest before the dawn and how “if a spark can start inside your heart, then you can always find the way.” This is honestly the hardest thing, hanging on to hope when all the evidence in your life would suggest you do otherwise, keeping your chin up when you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders.

I don’t mean to sound glum. At last night’s theater party, I congratulated a friend on their good year (they’d said they’d had one on Facebook), and they asked how mine was. “Terrible,” I said. Later I thought, It wasn’t all bad. Some really lovely things happened. Funny how we classify our days years as good and bad when they’re really a mixture of both. Still, it’s obvious that some days and some years are easier than others. Maybe we fall in love, get a new job. Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water. Or maybe we have our heart broken, lose our job. Jack fell down and broke his crown, and Jill came tumbling after.

Personally, I don’t mind saying that last year sucked. I was sicker than I’ve ever been, broker than I’ve ever been, and alone as I’ve ever been. Oh, and just before Christmas, I fucked up my knee. And whereas I really wish I could tell you that I’m now on the other side of all this terror, I can’t. Am I making progress? Yes. Is it over? Not at all.

In my Facebook memories today, there was a quote by Stephen R. Covey I shared years ago–“You can’t have the fruits without the roots.” And that’s one thing I can say about this piece-of-shit last year. I grew some serious roots. Despite all the above-ground nonsense, maybe because of it, I now feel more grounded than I ever have. I’ve confronted everything that terrifies the crap out of me, and I’m still standing. Mostly on one leg, but still. And sure, I want the fruits, the outward signs that things are going my way, that this is my year. But roots first, fruits second, that’s what Stephen said. Plus, in the movie tonight–and I don’t think I’m giving anything away here–the day was saved literally at the last-minute. So you never know what life has up its sleeve. You never know when help is on the way. At some point, the dawn has to break. Jack and Jill can’t tumble down the hill forever.

[As an interesting aside, according to Wikipedia, apparently some of the earliest versions of the Jack and Jill nursery rhyme were actually about Jack and Gill, two boys.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Sure, people change, but love doesn't."

A Delightful Day (Blog #609)

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Things that happened today–

1. I felt better

After dragging ass for over a week and SERIOUSLY dragging ass yesterday, this morning I woke up feeling like a regular human being. And whereas I can’t say for certain what caused it, I’m attributing my increase in energy to the probiotic I occasionally swab inside my sinuses, which I did last night. Who knows? Life is a mystery. Regardless, I’m learning to be grateful for any and every “normal” day.

2. I got into the holiday spirit

This afternoon and evening I helped a friend decorate the outside of their house for Christmas. As this was their first time doing this, we started with a trip to Walmart for lights, cords, and fasteners. Then we put lights in the hedges and draped one of their trees. But before we could wrap the posts on their porch, I had to go back to Walmart to get lights with WHITE cords and NOT GREEN cords because–we realized–their posts are white, and they “couldn’t bare” for things not to match. Anyway, it was a small project, but it turned into an all day affair, since we both had to leave to attend previous engagements but decided to meet again later in the evening (after ten) to finish up.

Here’s a picture of the final product.

3. I saw a musical

During my break from decorating, I attended Alma High School’s production of The Addams Family, a musical. (A few of my friends that I worked with backstage when The Wizard of Oz was in town invited me, and last week I actually helped paint one of the set pieces.) Anyway, the show was fabulous. The school really does do such a phenomenal job with the sets, costume, and lighting. And the kids! You wouldn’t know that they were in high school.

Here’s a picture of the graveyard set. Talk about seriously creepy and cool.

Here’s a picture of the living room set, which includes the piece I worked on. (I painted the stairs and handrail.) It’s not much in the grand scheme of thing, but every little bit helps!

4. I thought about my ancestors

Otherwise, I worked on my photo organizing project earlier today. I’m so close to done I can almost taste it. Then I talked to my parents about some of our family history, which was in part prompted by my project, and in part prompted by a book I’m reading about families, trauma, and healing. I’ll say more about it later, but the book points out that–for better or for worse–your entire family structure is part of your story and plays a big part in your overall mental and physical health. Coincidentally, tonight’s musical featured The Addams’s dead ancestors, whom they said couldn’t rest until there was peace with the living. Anyway, I think it’s interesting, the way the universe can deliver up the same message in multiple ways. Get your past sorted out.

5. I gave myself a break

Now it’s almost two in the morning, and I’m doing laundry because I’m getting up early tomorrow and going out-of-town to rehearse and perform a swing dance routine with my friend Matt. And whereas I wish I could post this and pass out, I still have my nightly routine to go through. So in an effort to be kind to myself, I’m ending things abruptly.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Both sunshine and rain are required for growth.

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The Best Part of the Adventure (Blog #232)

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Currently I’m in Springfield, Missouri, just back from a quick trip to Branson with my dancer friends Anne, Andy, and Matt. I’ve got to get up early in the morning, and the longer tonight’s blog takes to write, the less Daddy gets to sleep. I’d really thought about blogging today before I hit the road, but my body said, “Sleep–sleep or else.” Honestly, when I did get out of bed today, I felt worse than I did before I went to the doctor–my eyes were red, my body was jittery. “That’s the steroid,” my dad said. “It can absolutely do that.” Most the day, I’ve been coughing–that’s new too. Now I’m scared that the medicine won’t help and might actually hurt. Also, I’m imagining that I’ll be chronically ill until I die sometime in my mid-fifties–single and alone–at which point my body will finally be removed from my parents’ house.

Maybe I’m being dramatic.

As the day has gone on, I’ve perked up a little. The three-hour drive to Springfield went well, and I spent most the time listening to Joseph Campbell talk about mythology. He’s dead, of course, but over sixty-five of his talks are available through his foundation’s website, as well as on Google Play. And not that I keep a list of the ones I’ve listened to or anything, but I’ve listened to thirty-seven of them as of today. (I obviously keep a list of the ones I’ve listened to.) Anyway, Joseph Campbell is one of my favorite teachers, and I’ve spent so much time with his voice in my ears, I feel like he’s become a friend too–my man JC.

When I got to town, my friends and I packed up and headed to Branson, straight for Silver Dollar City. Y’all, I went to Silver Dollar City for the first and only time when I turned thirty, so it’s been a minute. But Anne suggested seeing the Christmas lights, and–oh my gosh–what a great idea that turned out to be. There were lights EVERYWHERE–on buildings, in trees, suspended in the air–it was gorgeous. Not only that, but the lights on the buildings were all lined up and turned in the same direction. My little OCD heart just soared. Honestly, I was so busy staring that I didn’t take any decent pictures, but if you Google “Silver Dollar City Christmas Lights,” you’ll get an idea.

Here’s a picture of one of our first stops–it’s the four of us pretending to be gingerbread people. We asked a couple to take our picture, and they quickly turned the task over to their angsty, headphone-wearing teenage son. Well, junior did NOT seem impressed with being volunteered, so I thought about saying, It’s okay for you to say no. That’s called having a boundary. But figuring he could take himself to therapy in his thirties like I did, I just shut my mouth, let him take the damn picture, and said, “Thank you so much.”

Since we were only at the park for a couple of hours, we spent most our time riding roller coasters. Well, Andy, Matt, and I did. Anne said she always–always–pukes on roller coasters, so she graciously stayed behind and watched our things. Having a personal aversion to being vomited on, I think this situation was a win-win for everyone. Y’all, it was awesome tonight–the weather was delightful (67 degrees), and none of the lines were long. In fact, we didn’t have to wait more than five or ten minutes to ride any of the four roller coasters we went on. On top of that, we were always in the front three rows. Talk about Christmas coming early.

I know some people hate them and some people puke on them, but I love roller coasters–the sudden drops, the loops that go upside down, the corkscrews. I always scream, then laugh, then scream some more. I guess what I love more than anything else is the thrill, the surprise of it all, the adventure, all of which were amplified tonight because the rides were in the dark–and everything is better in the dark.

That’s what she said.

During one ride, it did occur to me that an accident could happen. Like, a screw could come loose, and I could connect with a tree the way a bug connects with a windshield. (But then I guess my sinus infection wouldn’t matter.) I’m not trying to be morbid, but I’m just saying–these things do happen. I have a friend on Facebook who was on his way to the emergency room recently because he thought he had the flu, but he ended up being t-boned before he got there. He survived, but he had to be cut out of his truck with the jaws of life. Anyway, I can only assume the flu quickly dropped down on his list of problems. With this in mind, I’d like to publicly state that even though I often complain when I don’t feel well, I AM grateful to be alive and not currently plastered to a tree at a quaint little theme park in Branson, Missouri.

Another thing I thought about on one of the roller coaster rides was the fact that I wasn’t in control of the ride. I mean, I got on the thing, but at the point at which my seatbelt fastened and the guy hit the green button, I wasn’t in control anymore. When we got to the top and were about to be dropped straight down, it was too late for me to do anything except scream or pee my pants. (For the record, I screamed.) Anyway (actually while we were doing corkscrews), I realized I’m also already on the ride of life. Some days I’m at the top, and some days I’m at the bottom. (For a while now it’s felt like I’ve been going around in circles.) Anyway, I can scream and complain all I want, but the one thing I can’t do is get off the ride or control what’s going to happen next.

And I hate that.

You know how sometimes you get so wrapped up in what you’re doing that you lose yourself, maybe when you’re holding a baby in your arms, reading a good book, or dancing with someone you love? Well, this happened to me a few times tonight while I was either staring at all the beautiful lights or being whipped around on the roller coasters. The moments didn’t last very long, but when they did, I forgot about my sinus infection and the fact that I don’t currently have an income. My man JC calls moments like these aesthetic arrest, and they’re moments when we’re fully present, times when we’re not afraid of or wanting something, but are simply in a state of wonder about life as it is right here, right now. Of course, like a roller coaster ride, life is an adventure–right here, right now is constantly changing. But I’m starting to believe the best part the adventure is that state of wonder that never changes and–what’s more–is always available to us, no matter how good or bad we’re feeling.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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I believe that God is moving small universes to communicate with me and with all of us, answering prayers and sending signs in unplanned moments, the touch of a friend's hand, and the very air we breathe.

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