Commit to the Process (Blog #978)

Last week I wrote about my amazing experience with upper cervical care, and this afternoon I had another successful appointment with my doctor, the man I’m starting to refer to as The Brainstem Wizard. And whereas I’ll spare you all the details of my adjustment (because it honestly was a lot like last week’s except I didn’t cry as much) and the free class about upper cervical care I attended later in the evening, I will say that I’m completely sold on the process.

Apparently upper cervical doctors concentrate solely on the top one or two vertebrae (the atlas and the axis, respectively) because these bones not only support our head, but also house and protect our brainstem, which controls virtually everything else in our bodies. The idea being that an injury (like a car accident or even being YANKED out of your mother’s vagina by a full-grown OBGYN) can easily misalign your upper cervical vertebrae (they’re free-floating by design because you need to be able to turn your head), put pressure on your brainstem, and wreak havoc. Tonight The Brainstem Wizard said that from the time we’re born until the time we croak our bodies are ALWAYS ready to heal, but if our brainstem can’t properly function, we’re fighting a losing battle. Think about a water hose that’s kinked up. You’ve got to take the pressure off.

A point that was really driven home to me today was that “this is a process” and “we’re in this for longterm results.” In other words, I’m going to have ups and downs. Indeed, there will be days that I feel like crap and my job will simply be to trust that my body knows what it’s doing. “Just because you have symptoms doesn’t mean you’re not healthy,” I was told, “and just because you’re symptom-free doesn’t mean you are.”

Something I appreciate about my visit today is that I was presented with a proposal or plan. Basically the doctor suggested I come once a week for four months, every other week for three months after that, and once a month for five months after that. In other words, he asked me to commit to a year–a year of driving two hours round trip, a year of paying for visits, a year of following his protocols (which are more than reasonable in my opinion but do include severely cutting back on coffee). “Based on what you have going on and my experiences, this is how long I think it will take,” he said.

Because I’ve seen more positive results in the last week with this guy than I have in the last two years with half a dozen others, I signed on the dotted line. Hell, it took five to ten years for me to REALLY learn how to dance, and I’ve been going to therapy for almost six. A year to get my body back on track (which I really think this process can help me do) is certainly worth it. And four months, which (I think) is the time frame during which most of the results will be realized, is nothing.

To be clear, this entire ordeal is not cheap. That being said, it’s not any more expensive and is actually less expensive than many forms of chiropractic, massage, and even dancing. It’s just not covered by my insurance. But I’ve said before that everything comes with a price, and this is a point I’d really like to drive home tonight. If you want anything in your life to improve (including your health, your relationships, and your Cha Cha), you better pony up the dough. Now, by “the dough” I’m not just talking about your money. I’m also talking about your time, mental and emotional resources, and even how your life works in general. I’ve been very clear about the fact that since I started therapy a number of important relationships in my life have dissolved. This is what I mean. On one level it’s TERRIFYING for me to heal emotionally and physically because I know that means MORE confrontations, MORE being honest. For example, if The Brainstem Wizard is able to cure me of my headaches, I can never again say, “Not tonight, dear. I have a migraine.” I’ll have to tell the truth instead.

I’d rather read a book than sleep with you.

For years I’ve sung the praises of my therapist and am now singing the praises of The Brainstem Wizard, and–I don’t know–only one in a hundred people say, “I’d love their number.” Honestly, I don’t think this lack of interest is because people don’t believe my good results or don’t want them for themselves. And, yes, I’m VERY open to the idea that people know what’s best for them and are able to find answers elsewhere. At the same time, I know that for every two dozen people who tell me they ADORE Dancing with the Stars and would LOVE to take lessons, only one person will. Because anything new (including learning to dance and being healthier) is scary. Plus, as I’ve said before, changing one thing (even for the better) means changing everything.

And who wants to do that?

More and more, I do. Not because I’m gunning to have my life turned upside down, but because I’m finally figuring out that having my life turned upside down is the only way to really get anywhere, the only way to really get any peace. So this continues to be my advice. If you’re suffering, get some good help–and don’t shit yourself about whether or not something is working. If it’s been six months and you’re not improving, try something else. Just don’t give up. When you find something that does work, commit to the process. Go all in. Jump feet first. Put in your money and your time. Any investment in yourself will pay off big, I promise.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can’t stuff down the truth—it always comes up.

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Getting a Grip (Blog #416)

It’s 1:45 in the morning, and I’ve been putting this off for over an hour. I don’t feel well. I don’t feel awful, but I don’t feel well. I’m tired, irritable. My body is shaky (it has been for a while now), and it’s driving me crazy. I’m imagining that–on top of everything else–I have a neurological disorder, that I’m breaking down from the inside out. I’ve been Googling supplements all day, a compulsion that typically gets me nowhere. Maybe I’ll give up Google next year for Lent. But then again I’m not even Catholic. I guess I could convert, but that’d just be one more thing to do. Like my plate isn’t full enough already.

Get a grip, Marcus.

I’ve been thinking this would be a good way to start my autobiography, should I ever choose to write one: Thirty-seven, that’s how old I was when Meghan Markle married Prince Harry and my life fell apart. But then I don’t know where I’d go from there.

Get–a–grip, Marcus. (Focus.)

Today I spent the afternoon at Starbucks working on one of my travel writing stories, and that’s about it. I did run into an old dance student (who thought I was in Austin because everyone thinks I’m in Austin except me, who knows I’m not in Austin but instead living with my parents, who, incidentally, are not in Austin either) and had a lovely conversation. It always amazes me when something like this happens, randomly running into someone you haven’t seen in years and jumping right in with each, getting real. In the span of ten minutes, we talked about health challenges, going to therapy, and places where we consider ourselves to be weak. And I really don’t know this person that well. But the whole experience was so–refreshing.

It was the best thing that happened today. Being honest, that is.

Everything is progressing as it should.

This evening I taught a dance lesson to a student who thinks they should be progressing faster than they are. (They all do.) Having worked with hundreds of students over the years, I keep saying (truthfully) that they’re actually progressing faster than average, but you know how people can be their own worst critic. Anyway, here’s what I’ve been thinking about the situation. When you’re a new student, you don’t have anything to compare yourself to. If you do, it’s probably Dancing with the Stars, and THAT won’t make you feel good. But as an experienced teacher that works with everyday people who aren’t spending forty hours a week preparing for a competition, I can stand outside a student’s frustration and see that things are going just fine–they’re normal–everything is progressing as it should.

My friend and I talked about something similar today–the benefit of having a good therapist, someone who’s experienced in human relationships and emotions who doesn’t know you and can stand outside your drama and comment about what’s going on. There’s such a stigma about going to therapy, but who couldn’t benefit from a relationship like that? At one point in the last four years, I was dealing with a particularly difficult person in my life, someone I cared for but who came with excessive baggage (like more baggage than Rose had on the Titanic). “Why do you have this shit show in your life?” my therapist said. Blunt, I know, but no one else I was talking to was being blunt, and it was just the thing I needed to cause me to look at the situation in a different way, to realize that I could–change things.

Imagine that.

I told my friend today that sometimes I felt like the poster child for going to therapy, but it’s only because it’s been such a good and positive thing for me. I don’t pretend that it would be the same for everyone else, but I do think it’s worth trying, just like I think learning how to dance is worth trying. I mean, you already know how to sit on the couch or go to the movies or whatever it is you know how to do. Honestly, I think it’s fear that stops people from trying new things that could help them. Maybe embarrassment. I know there have been plenty of times I’ve actually felt apologetic as a dance student for not knowing something, not being better at something. I felt the same way in therapy when my therapist asked why I was putting up with such bad behavior. I thought, Why didn’t I know this already?

It’s okay to ask for help.

Of course, the answer is simple–because no one taught me. No one taught me how to dance or how to have healthy relationships (before they did)–probably because no one taught them. Likewise, no one (except for my therapist, who’s a professional) is teaching me how to navigate being thirty-seven, living with my parents, and having a health challenge (or two). After all, who knows these things?! Aren’t we all just figuring life out as we go along, aren’t we all just doing the best we can? This has been my experience, so I’m trying to get a grip and remember that it’s okay to admit you don’t know everything, that it’s okay to ask for help.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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All things become ripe when they’re ready.

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