Sometimes Your Teeth Fall Out (Blog #360)

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Last night while sleeping at my Aunt Terri’s house in Tulsa, I dreamed that one of my teeth fell out, a molar. I was chewing on something, and the damn thing split in half. Well, I was horrified. (I hate it when my teeth fall out.) There was blood and everything. As I was collecting the pieces, an elderly woman gave me several of her teeth as well. (Thanks, lady.) Still, I gathered up all the pearly whites, got in my car, and headed toward the dentist.

Y’all, today was another great day. First of all, when I woke up this morning, I had all my teeth. (Phew.) As if that weren’t enough, then I got to use them when my aunt took me to brunch at the restaurant where my cousin was our waiter. (It was delicious, and the service was exceptional.) Seriously, folks, molars are super handy to have, especially for things like–oh–chewing.

Don’t take your teeth for granted.

After brunch my aunt and I went shopping at a giant antique mall. “I’m good for about an hour,” I said, just before we went inside. Well, one thing led to another, and somehow we stretched an hour into two-and-a-half. Considering all there was to look at and be amazed by, it’s a wonder we both walked out with only one purchase a piece. (I got a book, and she got a book.)

After the antique mall, my aunt and I came back to her house, slipped into some comfortable chairs, and started chatting. Among other things, we talked about her job, her old neighbor (whom you can catch a glimpse of in the painting behind me in tonight’s selfie photo), my parents, and my therapist. We even talked about my dream last night, the one where my tooth fell out. Here’s what I said–

First, despite how awful it felt to lose my tooth in the dream, I figure the dream was positive, since my therapist has yet to tell me that one of my dreams wasn’t positive. Second, teeth typically represent power or our ability to “break down” and “digest” our experiences and problems, so usually dreams about losing teeth have to do with feeling powerless. (Having been unemployed and living with my parents for over a year now, I’d say that sounds about right.) But here’s where the dream gets interesting. For me, old people in dreams represent my old ways of thinking, my old ways of doing things. Well, the old lady in the dream gave me her broken teeth. In other words, she couldn’t handle her problems on her own. Even if she wasn’t, she acted powerless. I, on the other hand, got in my car (cars represent the direction your life is going) and headed to the dentist.

“So maybe you’re better at handling your problems than you’re giving yourself credit for,” my aunt said.

“I think you nailed it,” I replied.

By the time I left my aunt’s house, it was after nine in the evening. Y’all, I got over halfway home, and my aunt sent me a message. “Marcus, you left your laptop!”

Well, shit, I thought. I HAVE to go back. I haven’t blogged today.

So that’s what I did. I turned the car around, drove an hour to Tulsa, grabbed some late night food, and went back to my aunt’s house. (That’s where I am now.) Obviously, part of me is frustrated. I don’t love the fact that I wasted gas and toll money or that I forgot my laptop the same way I apparently forgot my toothbrush on the way here yesterday. (Thank God for my finger.) But if I’ve learned anything during this last year, it’s that life is FULL of detours and rarely goes as planned. As my mom said when I called to say I’d be home tomorrow, “Things hardly ever happen 100 percent like you think they will.” Plus, other than being tired, I’M OKAY. In the grand scheme of things, this is no big deal.

As I’ve continued to process last night’s dream, I think it’s interesting that I dreamed about teeth and going to the dentist while I was here in Tulsa. See, my uncle, who’s no longer alive, used to be a dentist. He was also a Boy Scout and a handyman. My aunt’s house is full of light switches he wired, pictures he hung up, you name it. I didn’t dream about him “specifically” last night, but I do think I dreamed about him generally, and here’s the important thing about that–my uncle (the dentist) was the type of person who always knew what to do. In this sense, I think my aunt was right–I think the dream was about recognizing that even when things go “wrong” in my life, even when I feel powerless, I can still come up with a plan or ask for help.

Surely we can all regroup and try again.

I also think it’s interesting that the car I was driving in the dream was a convertible. (I don’t usually dream about convertibles.) This probably has to do with being “adaptable,” being able to adjust to whatever life brings me. Again, life doesn’t always work out like you think it’s going to. Sometimes your teeth fall out. Sometimes and many times, nothing goes as planned. You find yourself backtracking, feeling like you’re wasting time on roads you’ve already been on, feeling like you’re powerless to do anything about it. But surely we can all adjust, surely we can all regroup, ever thankful that WE’RE OKAY and get the chance to try again.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Stop buying your own bullshit.

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All of My Refrigerators (Blog #338)

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Last night I watched the movie Wonder and cried all the way through. It’s about a boy with a genetically deformed face and his struggle for acceptance, both from himself and others. The movie is based on the novel (with the same title) by R.J. Palacio, and I actually enjoyed it more than the book. The book is broken up so that each chapter is told by a different character, and although I loved the overall story, I had trouble “settling in” because the point of view kept changing. I never could get past the writing. But that wasn’t a problem last night with the movie. I was totally settled in. I was a mess.

You should watch it and be a mess too.

Today I slept in until one in the afternoon. (It’s two now. I’ve already had breakfast and am currently blogging. I am ON it.) Anyway, I’m teaching and performing tonight at a local USO dance. It’s a fundraiser, and I believe the organizers are planning to whore me out for “$5 dollars dances.” My grandpa was in the Navy, and here’s what he said about whores–“Five dollars, five minutes.” So I guess that will be my slogan for the evening. All this to say that I tried to get as much sleep as possible last night because I plan on being worn out this evening. In the best way, of course.

One of my friends messaged me and said, “Are you psyching yourself up for all the dances tonight?” Except instead of saying “psyching yourself up,” she said “patching yourself up.” (Freaking autocorrect.) I said, “I’ll be patching myself up AFTER.”

I had a lot of dreams last night. Now I can’t stop thinking about them. That’s the damn thing about deciding to pay attention to your dreams (or anyone). Once they see you’re interested, they won’t leave you alone. Give ’em an inch, they’ll take a mile. (Rude, I know.) Anyway, the main dream last night involved my being at a large mansion for some sort of party. First my friends and I had to make it through the gate, this large, wrought-iron deal. Once we made it inside, there were tons of rooms and–get this–tons of refrigerators. More than any one person could ever need. They were inside and outside. It was like an ice-box collection. They were all full of food, and, of course, I was on the search for just the right thing to eat.

My therapist says houses always represent yourself, your life, your physical person. So the fact that I’m dreaming about mansions, I think, is a good thing. Maybe I’m bigger than I realize. It’s obviously taken some work (the iron gate) to get inside, but now that I’m here, maybe it’s almost time for the party (the fun part of life). As for the refrigerators, I’ve been dreaming about them for the last few years. They just show up now and then–usually only one of them–and I’ve never been able to figure out their meaning. I read online that they refer to “cold emotions,” but my therapist says online dream dictionaries (and all dream dictionaries) are bullshit. Anyway, when I woke up this morning, the meaning of the refrigerators was clear as day. I thought, Duh. They represent stored energy. They represent my potential.

I can’t tell you how exciting this revelation is. I just looked at some of my digital dream journals for other refrigerator dreams. In one of them, I was cleaning paint off the outside (getting ready to clean things up). In a later one, the inside of the refrigerator was empty except for some Post-It Notes (meaning I still had things to do). The last time I dreamed about a refrigerator, there were juice bottles inside, but they were empty (I felt like I was out of juice?). In last night’s dream, there wasn’t just one refrigerator, but dozens–inside and outside–and all full of food. I can only assume, since the dream came from my unconscious, that this means I have no idea how much stored energy is waiting to be used in both my interior and exterior life.

You get to hope for a better ending.

That being said, I’m currently exhausted. I’m ready to start dreaming about microwaves, about actually eating some of that food in those refrigerators. (Let’s use that potential!) Still, I’m grateful to see the progression. This is one of the nice things about paying attention to your dreams and (sometimes) writing them down. You get to see that–deep down–something is actually going on with you, that there’s progress being made even when you feel like life is punching you in the gut. Like the movie I watched last night, you get to watch yourself struggle then overcome and find acceptance. As you see your story changing, you get to hope for a better ending than the one you’ve always imagined. You get to believe it could actually come true.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Authenticity is worth all the hard work. Being real is its own reward."

The F2 Button (Blog #336)

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Last night I dreamed that I was at summer camp, in the winter. I was with a friend, and we decided to go for a run. I was in short sleeves with an orange vest on, a vest I actually own in real life that’s like the one Michael J. Fox wore in Back to the Future. Someone pointed out that the tag said, “F2.” Anyway, we jogged around, and it was like an outdoor museum. There were statues. At some point I encountered a policeman who started bothering me, and I told him to give me a break, man. Then I climbed up on a rock, which apparently I wasn’t supposed to be on, since a camp counselor picked up where the policeman left off. More vocal than normal, I said, “Give it a rest. I’m not hurting anyone.” And then I woke up.

I didn’t actually get out of bed until almost four today. I guess I needed the rest. Currently it’s midnight. I’ve only been awake for eight hours, but I’m wiped out. I’m really trying to be patient with my body.

This morning some friends brought my mom home from the hospital, where she stayed last night with my dad. This afternoon I took her back to the hospital, and I stayed for several hours and ran a couple errands for my parents. Dad is stable. From what I understand, the current goal is to drain as much fluid off of him as possible, anywhere from thirty to fifty pounds. (Wow.) The cardiologist would like to run some further tests, but they’re taking it day-by-day, trying to determine what Dad’s heart can handle.

Since Dad’s overweight, the hospital got him an oversized bed. It has a trapeze bar that hangs down over his torso so he can pull himself up or get situated right. This evening Dad told one of the nurses that he and Mom were going to “test out the trapeze tonight.” The nurse laughed, but I rolled my eyes, since I’ve been listening to Dad tell slightly inappropriate jokes to strangers for over thirty years. Later Mom told the nurse, “Marcus is a boundaries person.”

So apparently I’m getting a reputation. I can’t wait to tell my therapist.

All day long I’ve been trying to make sense of last night’s dream. When I think about summer camp, all my thoughts are positive. That being said, when I worked at summer camp, it was during a time in my life when I was my least authentic. So my guess is that my subconscious is trying to communicate that there’s a way to live life and have fun and at the same time be my true self. Like running (for me), this is a challenge, and I think the summer camp in winter thing represents just how challenging the search for authenticity is, since (personally) I hate winter.

The statues most likely represent my past, my un-alive or inauthentic self, so I think it’s good that I was running by them. Likewise, I think it was good that I was wearing the Back to the Future vest. For one thing, the vest is extremely warm, which tells me that there’s a way to make it through even the most difficult winter. Also, I think “back to the future” speaks to the idea that sometimes you have to go back before you can forward, or perhaps it simply means that I’m being prepared for the future and that my past is way over. Like, I can put it in a museum.

My favorite part of the dream is when I told the policeman and the camp counselor to back off, since those characters clearly represent the parts of my personality that require me to follow all the rules and “be perfect.” Apparently I’m finally getting to the point where I’m tired of and done with all that shit. Leave me alone. I’m not hurting anyone. Can’t you see I’m having fun, just being myself over here? And the fact that I was on a rock? Surely that means I’ve reached solid ground. Or that I myself am solid.

We’re allowed to relabel and remake ourselves.

The thing in the dream I’ve been most curious about today has been the “F2” label on the vest. My best guess is that it refers to the F2 button on a standard Windows keyboard. The F2 button is the “rename” function, a shortcut for changing a file’s name. This reminds me that I’m allowed to relabel and remake myself, not just with words but from the inside out. Like, I don’t have to spend the rest of my life as a self-demanding perfectionist. I don’t have to put up with someone else’s or even my own harassment. I don’t have to let people walk all over me. Marcus is a boundaries person. Even when life is cold and challenging, I can run toward authenticity. We all can.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Abundance comes in many forms.

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Rod Stewart, Charlie Bucket, and My Sock Monkey (Blog #317)

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It’s two-thirty in the afternoon, and I’m listening to Rod Stewart. You know Rod–Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?–Stewart. Honestly, I’m not a huge fan. It’s not like I have his poster ticky-tacked to my bedroom wall. But on certain days there’s something comforting about his voice. Wake up, Maggie, I think I got something to say to you. Every time I hear that lyric, I feel like I’m slipping into crushed velvet or pulling into my driveway after a hard week on the road. I can’t say why exactly. I guess it makes me smile and let down my defenses at the same time. I guess it helps me let go.

I was just doing this, blogging, a mere twelve hours ago. After I posted last night, I watched a documentary about Deepak Chopra on Netflix, then fell asleep to the sounds of a guided imagery/positive affirmation program. (Sometimes I multitask.) Anyway, not much else has happened since the last time we spoke–er–since the last time I spoke to myself. When I woke up this afternoon, I made breakfast, wrote in my journal, did my meditation. Now I’m back here blogging because I’m going out to eat with friends tonight and don’t want the pressure of having to write hanging over my head.

Lately I’ve been mentally comparing my parents’ home to Charlie Bucket’s house in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. You remember Charlie–he lived with his mom and both sets of grandparents, and all four grandparents were bedridden. In the same bed. Talk about a close-knit family. Anyway, they were all sick, at least until Charlie got his golden ticket and Grandpa Joe was miraculously healed. Well, around here, we’re all sick too. In addition to her clinical depression, Mom’s dealing with the effects of her cancer and its treatment. A couple days ago Dad started fighting a nasty cold or something. (He’s hacking a lot.) And I’m up-and-down with whatever it is I can’t get over–even though (God knows) I’m trying. Despite my best efforts and all that time in bed last night, I’m currently wiped out.

Cheer up, Charlie.

Earlier this week my mom’s doctor removed the “drain ports” that were put in a couple weeks ago during her mastectomy. Well, I don’t know if the ports were taken out too soon or if her bandages weren’t put on right, but yesterday when Mom came into the kitchen, I noticed a dark stain on the back of her nightgown. She didn’t realize it, but she’d been bleeding in bed. My aunts came to the house and helped Mom get cleaned up, but for Mom, the bleeding was the last straw. She broke down. “Why is it that when you think you can’t handle anything else, you’re given something else to handle?” she said.

Seriously.

The picture for today’s blog is of my sock monkey, Nick. I got Nick several years ago for a dance routine in which my dance partner Janie and I pretended to be kids and danced in footed pajamas. Nick was fastened to my outfit, and Janie’s sock monkey, Nora, was fastened to hers. Anyway, Nick was the only stuffed animal I kept when I had the estate sale and started over. I keep a Curious George button on Nick partly because–monkeys–and partly because it reminds me to stay open to whatever life brings me, to not get set in my ways.

A few nights ago I dreamed about Janie. We were watching a dance routine we’d performed, on someone’s phone. The video was eleven minutes long, which by anyone’s standard’s is a ridiculously long time for a dance routine. But it was a dream, so I guess anything goes. Toward the end of the routine, we did an aerial combination. In reality, the combination should have only taken a few seconds, but it went on and on in the dream because we were holding poses. First I held her upside down and above my head for a full minute, then I held her, somehow, behind my back for another. Had you been watching the routine, you would have thought what I was thinking while watching it in the dream–Impossible.

There’s no hurry to get there.

Yesterday, after reading one my blogs, a friend told me she thought I was brave. Y’all, I’ve never used that word to describe myself. For all the bullshit I’ve been through in life, I’ve never thought of myself as brave or strong. But as I’ve chewed on the dream this week, I’ve realized it was about seeing my inner strength and about recognizing the impossible things I’ve overcome. It was about all the times I thought I couldn’t handle anything else–and then did. In Maggie May, Rod Stewart says, “I’ll get on back home one of these days.” Maybe this lyric is why hearing this song feels like pulling into the driveway. It reminds me that not only am I on the right path–the path back to myself (my brave, stronger-than-I-realized self)–but also that there’s no hurry to get there.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It’s not where you are, it’s whom you are there with.

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Cussing Out My Inner Director (Blog #278)

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A few days ago my apparently very intelligent car, Tom Collins, told me that one of my tires had low pressure. This happened a couple months ago with the same tire. Luckily I was right by a gas station. Even better, it was one with free air. How about that? Sometimes life throws you a bone. The next day my brother-in-law said, “Did you know you have flat tire?” Well shit. I guess I ran over a nail. Sometimes life takes the bone back. As my dad said, “Son, you’re starting the new year off right.”

Today has been overwhelming. It began when my alarm went off in the middle of a dream in which I was both ill-prepared and late for a stage performance. I couldn’t get my hair to “do right.” Consequently, there was an announcement that the show would start six or seven minutes late. The director was not amused. When I tried to explain myself, she went straight for my gut and said, “You’re not even that entertaining.”

“Fuck you,” I said, and that was it.

This was not a pleasant way to wake up, my heart already racing. Additionally, I knew I had a lot to do today, including getting the flat tire repaired, finishing a book due back at the library, and writing today’s blog before teaching dance tonight. This is something I like to do–create lists of things I “have” to do that really aren’t that important. I mean, the flat tire was important–I need my car this week. But is it really the end of the world if I don’t finish a library book? Can’t I check it out again? And haven’t I written late at night plenty of times before? Still, I give myself these deadlines.

Now it’s four in the afternoon, and most of my to-do list is done (except the blog). Since I was stressed out, my dad took charge of the flat tire situation. The tire store is just a couple blocks away, so he called them and told them what was going on–we’ve got a flat tire and no way to air it up. Well, one of the guys actually came to the house with an air compressor and blew the tire up enough to get it to the shop. How great is that? Anyway, while that was being done, I finished the book I mentioned, the one about sinus health I’ve talked about before. (I’ve had the book for a full six weeks.)

On one hand, I’m glad to have the book finished. On the other hand, I’m overwhelmed (again) by all the recommendations it provided. My body really isn’t feeling great today, and when that’s the case, I just can’t think about buying two dozen vitamins, installing an air filter, finding (and paying for) an acupuncturist, starting a meditation practice, and learning to walk on water. Talk about frustrating. The book said that people with sinus issues often have “unexpressed anger,” but honestly, the main thing I’m angry about is the fact that I’ve been so fucking sick for three months and that getting better sounds about as easy as obtaining enlightenment. Maybe if I threw the book across the room, that would help. Or I could just start cussing more.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I know part of my frustration with not feeling well is the deadline thing. Like, next week I’m seeing a new doctor, but I think, I need answers now. I need to feel better now. This mentally, of course, contributes to my running around the internet, spending all my time and money looking for the latest home remedies and snake oils. I realize I’m not being patient. If anything, I’m being desperate. That sounds about right. I’m desperate for things to improve.

I plan to talk about it in therapy, but I think the dream was about deadlines too, that feeling of pressure I put on myself to perform, whether that’s daily blogging or making something “great” of my life. I want everything to be just so, and it feels as if life isn’t moving fast enough. Perhaps not so deep down, I feel like I’m not good enough. “You’re not even that entertaining.” The good news, of course, is that I told the harsh director to fuck off, meaning my subconscious is starting to question all my self-judgments and artificial deadlines. It’s saying, “Wait a damn minute, I’m doing the best I can here.” This is something I have to keep telling myself, that I’m doing the best I can, I have plenty of time, and there’s nothing to be desperate about.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Just because your face is nice to look at doesn’t mean you don’t have a heart that’s capable of being broken. These things happen to humans, and there isn’t a one of us who isn’t human.

"

The Putting-Together Process (Blog #274)

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It’s Friday after Christmas, and I was just sitting at this laptop twelve hours ago. Since eight of those hours were spent sleeping, I officially have very little to say. I realize this isn’t a good way to advertise what’s going on here, sort of like a department store putting a sign in the window that says, “Come on in–nothing’s on sale.” Still, it’s honest. I mean, what happens before noon? In my world, rarely anything. But today I’m blogging even earlier than normal because I’m going out-of-town later to pick up my aunt, who’s been visiting her three grandchildren for the holidays. “I’m ready to come home,” she said.

With any luck, this will be done in less than an hour.

Last night I dreamed I was driving through one of my favorite areas of town, which was filled with new construction. There were two and three-story buildings, all in the process of being built, for blocks and blocks. My therapist says that buildings represent your physical body and your life, so I assume this dream represents all the mental, emotional, and physical changes I’ve made over the last few years, most of which have kicked into high gear since I started the blog. Since the dream didn’t involve just one house but rather an entire neighborhood, I take that to mean that I’m quite literally rebuilding my entire world.

Later in the dream a friend gave me a business card that was like a puzzle, several pieces that fit together like a game. Since I think puzzles are fun and challenging, I think this means that I need to reshape the way I look at business, which I usually associate with being overwhelming and “serious.” It’s like my subconscious is saying, “Lighten up, Marcus. It’s just another game.”

Anytime I start a project, I look forward to it being completed. If I redecorate a room, I love seeing it finished, everything in place. I can stare at it for hours. So I keep thinking about those buildings in the dream. I want them to be done. But currently my sister is working on the puzzle we recently started, and I’m reminding myself that the fun part is actually the building process, the putting-together process. That feeling of finished satisfaction that I love only comes after all the hard work has been put in. So I’m also reminding myself that this time in my life is vitally important because it’s when I’m laying my foundation and constructing a solid structure. Looking around my parents’ house, I don’t see a single two-by-four. They’ve all been covered up with sheetrock, paint and family photos. But I know they’re there, holding everything up.

You can’t build a house, much less a life, from the outside-in.

This reminds me that 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. In my experience, this is a long and boring process. And because you’re working on the parts that few people see or appreciate, it’s often a lonely process. So you’ve really got to believe in yourself and what you’re doing. Again, it comes down to integrity and making something solid of yourself, something that’s so well-built on the inside that it can handle any storm. This is challenging, of course–it’s meant to be challenging. But, like a puzzle, it’s also meant to be fun, something you have all the time in the world to work on and comes together one piece at a time.

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.

"

Slow Down, Sweetheart (Blog #253)

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Currently I’m waiting for my daily selfie to load. My internet is slow, slow, slow. Last night I had a dream that I’d returned to school, only this time for a visit. After parking, I walked into a classroom. My best friend from high school was there, as was a teacher I didn’t care for. As I walked out of the room, I passed a kid who used to beat me up, stepped over a straight girl who fell in love with me a while back. (Bye, Felicia.) Wanting to go to the office, I ended up outside. There was another teacher I didn’t like far away, and a sort of picnic going on in the courtyard. I woke up when I got to the band. (There was a band.) The dream was uncomfortable because the entire time it felt as if I was walking through mud. Like my present internet speed, I was moving in slow motion. (Slow motion for me.)

I can’t tell you how frustrating it was.

Now it’s three-thirty in the afternoon, and I’m rushing, trying to get through this blog so I can meet my family for my lunch, their dinner. (This happens a lot when you live with senior citizens.) For the last twelve weeks Mom has been getting chemotherapy every Friday, and they always go out to eat afterwards. I’ve only met them a couple times, but today is kind of a big deal, since it’s Mom’s LAST chemotherapy. I mean, she gets to ring a bell! (Apparently it’s a thing.) Anyway, I technically just at breakfast, but I want to celebrate this milestone with my mama. Come on, creativity, come on.

Yesterday I wasn’t in the best mood. If nothing else is going on, this is usually a pretty good indication that I’m not feeling well. True to form, I did have more drainage than normal yesterday, and some of it was green-ish. (It’s gross, I know, but this is the place where I get to be honest.) Anyway, I stepped up the antihistamines, vitamins, and teas, and did another kimchi treatment last night. Y’all, I feel so much better today–less drainage, less color. Again, it’s not a miracle, but it’s close enough. The biggest improvement is that I woke up on the right side of the bed. I was dancing while making breakfast! Yesterday it was the blues, and today it’s Motown.

Things are looking up.

I’m still chewing on the dream I had last night, but my gut says it had it do with patience. In one sense, I know I’ve come a long way, slowly walked through the classroom of life and learned a lot of lessons. The bullies and fruitless relationships are behind me. Still, I’m not wherever it is I’m going (the office). As I said earlier, this is frustrating. In this sense, the dream isn’t a mystery. I constantly look ahead at where I’m not. Every day feels as if I’m not moving fast enough.

There’s a lot of magic around you.

Yesterday on Facebook my sister shared a song by Macklemore and Kesha. The song is called Good Old Days and says, “Some day soon your whole life’s gonna change–you’ll miss the magic of these good old days.” Honestly, I often forget to see the blessings of where I am because I want my life to change–I think it will be better, that I will be happier. I forget that there’s a lot of magic around me (a picnic with a band!), that I get to sleep in, let my body heal and find balance. Not everyone can do that. I forget that I can go out to eat with my parents, be close by while my mom is fighting cancer. Last night we both stayed up late and shared some egg rolls while watching our respective television shows. Who knows how many more times that will happen? So today I’m reminding myself that these truly are magic moments, moments not everyone gets to have, moments that even for me won’t last forever. Slow down, Marcus. Slow down, sweetheart. There’s a lot to enjoy here. And don’t worry, you’ll still get there–wherever that is.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

The Headless Horseman and Dreams of Healing (Blog #239)

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After two days of feeling good about the world, I and my positive mental outlook took a nosedive today. Nosedive is an appropriate word, since my melancholy mood is directly related to my sinus infection, which apparently is not going away like I thought it was. I can breathe–that’s a good thing–but all day I’ve continued to cough, deal with drainage, and suffer from lethargy. I can’t tell you how frustrating this is. I’m literally punching the keys on my laptop as we speak, and I’m considering using a baseball bat to knock my own head off. Actually, I bet that’s what happened to the headless horseman–he probably had sinus infections for years, got sick of them one day, and decided to replace his face with a pumpkin.

No wonder he was angry.

The day itself has been delightful. I got plenty of rest last night, the weather has been gorgeous, and I got to go for a long walk. On top of those things, there’s still leftover pie in the refrigerator, so life isn’t all bad. I just keep wishing I had more energy, although I’m not exactly sure what I’d be doing with it if I had it. I mean, when I wasn’t walking or eating pie today, I was reading, which is probably what I would have done even if I’d felt like a million bucks. Flipping pages doesn’t exactly require a lot of stamina. Still, no one likes to feel as if they’re running on an empty tank of gas.

Putt, putt, putt–clunk.

Last week I had a dream that I was looking at my right hand as if it were under an x-ray machine. Inside my hand were loose bones–not like broken bones, but extra ones, kind of floating around. This is where the dream gets fuzzy, but I think it was like a game of Operation–I was trying to get everything in place. Anyway, today while I was walking, I listened to a lecture on Jungian dream interpretation by Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes, and she described dreams as “letters from home.” To me this means that dreams are messages from a deeper, wiser part of ourselves and are sent to us to help make us whole.

As for actual dream interpretation, the lecture said to start by writing down your dreams. Then it said to identify all the nouns, then write down what you associate with each noun. Finally, rewrite your dream, but put the associations in place of their respective nouns. For example, the nouns in my dream were my right hand (writer, getting things done, control), an x-ray machine (to look inside, see what’s really going on), and bones (structure, solid, strength). I’ll get to the interpretation later, but I believe this method is exactly how my therapist works with dreams. Of course, it’s always nice to have ideas reinforced and explained in different ways.

This evening I read some more in the book I started earlier this week about sinus problems. Honestly, I’m having to take it slow because it’s a lot of information, and–frankly–overwhelming. As the book suggests a holistic approach, there are a lot of recommendations, and it’s difficult for my inner rule follower to figure out which ones are “required.” Like, if the book lists six vitamins that are good for boosting the immune system, do I really have to go out and buy all six? Because I could easily overdo things and go broke super fast. Plus, I’ve been that person who’s had fifty bottles of vitamins and minerals before, and I hate being that person. I’m definitely willing to try again, but I’ve got to find a balance this time.

After reading the book, I went to Walgreens, Walmart, and CVS in search of a suggested herbal sinus rinse that’s been around for over a hundred years. (CVS had it.) So far I’ve tried it once and am equal parts hopeful and pessimistic. I told my mom that I feel like a sucker for trying everything under the sun, but that I have to try something because my antibiotic runs out tomorrow, and it obviously isn’t getting the job done anyway. (Sorry, cephalosporin, but you’re not.) “I don’t think you’re a sucker,” Mom said. “I just think you want to feel better.”

My god, do I ever.

Tonight I’ve been wondering if I have the strength to fight this sinus infection, to rally the troops and try something else–then something else if that doesn’t work. Part of me definitely thinks no–no I don’t. I’m worn out. But another part of me thinks yes. Already tonight I’ve been thinking about some of the book’s suggestions, and I’m considering holistic doctors I could work with so I don’t have to do this alone. Actually, I just took a break from blogging to look at options online. And whereas I normally feel as if I’ve exhausted all my options, it now seems as if there are a million things I haven’t tried. A day after Thanksgiving, I’m grateful for these options–overwhelmed, but grateful nonetheless. Surely something will work. I’m also grateful for what this infection has brought me–a better diet, a smaller waistline, a ton of new information, and plenty of compassion for anyone with a chronic problem.

So, thank you, sinus infection–you may go now.

As I finished my walk tonight, I watched the sunset and thought about the meaning of the dream I had. Personally, I think the image of the x-ray of my right hand is fascinating–the way it had to do with looking inside myself to see what’s really going on in terms of writing, getting things done, and being in control. The fact that there weren’t any broken bones, obviously, was a good thing. Rather, there were new bones, new growth. This tells me that I have more structure and strength than I realize and that things are coming into place. So I’m reminding myself that if there’s a wisdom that makes the sun set and sends me dreams to help make me whole, then surely that wisdom can guide me toward healing and provide the strength I’m not always sure I have to get there.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Just as there’s day and night literally, there’s also day and night emotionally. Like the sun, one minute we’re up, the next minute we’re down. Our perspectives change constantly. There’s nothing wrong with this. The constellations get turned around once a day, so why can’t you and I? Under heaven, there’s room enough for everything–the sun, the moon and stars, and all our emotions. Yes, the universe–our home–is large enough to hold every bit of us.

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Taking My Mind Back (Blog #221)

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Today I’ve been all over the emotional map–North, South, East, and West–in anything but a straight line. I saw my therapist this afternoon, and that’s almost always a shot in the arm. I mean, she’s hilarious and insightful. As per usual, we tackled “the list” of all the thoughts, problems, and curiosities I couldn’t stop thinking about this last week. Probably half our time was spent on dreams I’ve had lately, which included a hot sex dream and a dream about Hillary Clinton. (To be absolutely perfectly clear, those were two distinct, separate dreams.) I’ll spare you the lengthy analysis, but when it was over, my therapist said, “You really have the best dreams.” Well, not once in my life have I ever thought my subconscious would get such a glowing review, but now that it has, I sort of want to put it on my resume. Marcus Coker–can get shit done even in his sleep.

Feel free to roll your eyes.

In case it needs to be restated–my therapist detests social media. If you’ve looked at what people are posting lately, I’m sure you can figure out way. Anyway, today she had a whole slew of new anti-social-media stickers on her laptop, the biggest of which said, “Social Media Personality Disorder.” I said, “Oh, like, I’m neurotic because someone didn’t like my post or said something negative?”

She said, “Exactly.”

Beneath that sticker was one that said, “Take your mind back.” Tying the two sentiments together, my therapist said, “Don’t hand your mind over to other people. You know who you are.” To me this means that I can’t let a news feed filled with cats and political arguments tell me how to feel every day. What’s more, if I spend the day scrolling, comparing myself to others and looking for outside validation, I’m only going to end up feeling worse about myself. So ultimately, unless I want to be neurotic, I have to be responsible for my thoughts and feelings. This, of course, is the very essence of authenticity.

A couple months ago I started a small remodel project–replacing a door threshold–for my friend Ray. Well, it’s dragged on and on because the threshold had to be special ordered, and I guess the shipping department kept sending the product to a different store location. Not knowing this, the store I was working with kept ordering new ones–a total of three of them, in fact. Anyway, shit happens. I finally picked up the threshold today, was immediately deflated because I realized I didn’t have the proper tools to remove the excess length, then got excited when I went to Ray’s because I discovered it was exactly the right size.

Sometimes life throws you a bone.

I guess technically–in this case–I threw myself a bone, since I’m the one who would have specified the length of the threshold when I ordered it. That being said, I’m willing to share the credit with life. Very magnanimous of me, I know.

The project itself went really well, albeit slower than I desired. Since some of the wood in the door frame was rotten, I needed to replace it, and this meant using a saw. Well, the only saw blade I had was dull, and for a while I dicked around hoping I could make it work. Dull blades are useless, of course, so then I tried chiseling the wood and even sanding it in order to make it the right size. This felt like trying to teach a cat how to bark. Well, I finally gave up, gave in, made the long haul back to the hardware store, and bought new blades. Y’all, things went MUCH faster after that. Who’d have thought? Now–after all this time–the project is finished.

Phew.

Feeling rather accomplished, I celebrated by playing with Ray’s new kitten, Leo. I’m really not a cat person, but I love black cats, and Leo was SO CUTE. Not only did he let me hold him in my arms like a baby, he also wore a black-and-white bow tie for the occasion. Talk about a class act. But seriously–a kitten in a bow tie! Could anything be more adorable?

The low point for the evening was checking the mail when I got home. Remember when I went to the emergency room a few weeks ago for a skin infection? Well, I got the bill today, and apparently my insurance didn’t pay for anything–not a cent was spent. Talk about a huge bummer, letdown, and disappointment. I tried to stop myself, but I immediately commenced freaking out. I can’t afford this. I should’ve gone to a regular doctor. Shit–I want chocolate chip cookies–This is a terrible day to be on a diet. Y’all, if it’s not obvious, it’s really difficult for me to stay calm in these situations. I went through a similar ordeal after I had sinus surgery this year (which turned out fabulously, despite my worrying), and every time the feeling is the same–I just want the whole thing over with.

This is probably something I should bring up in therapy, the way I flip shit whenever I see a piece of paper that says, “Balance due.” It probably has something to do with the fact that I was handed the family checkbook–which didn’t have much money in it, by the way–at the age of fifteen when Dad went to prison. Now that I think about it, I’m sure it has everything to do with that.

Anyway, it took me a while to talk myself down off the ledge. For a while I tried to ignore the issue by reading a book about writing I found at a used bookstore this afternoon. Then I decided I had to move, so I went for a run, even though it was drizzling and cold outside. Considering the fact that I’m just getting over three weeks of being sick, this may not have been the smartest move. Still, I had to do something to burn off my nervous energy, which I guess I had a lot of because I ended up running six miles. Along the way I remembered that 1) what’s done is done, 2) my life could be much, much, worse, and 3) it’s possible this could turn out better than I’m thinking it will. Around mile five, I actually laughed when I thought of one of my favorite comedy sketches.

Last month when I was in Colorado at a spiritual retreat, the teacher said, “Joy is not in the object.” This statement came out of the observation that most of us behave as if joy is in the object. Like, we want a new car, a new house, or a new boyfriend because we think having those things will make us happy. But if happiness resided in those particular things, they’d make everyone happy or they’d make us happy all of the time. Well, when I laughed while running tonight, I realized that just as joy is not in the object, neither is anxiety, nervousness, or stress. In other words, if a hospital bill were truly the source of my worry, I wouldn’t be able to laugh until it were taken care of. The fact that my mood can change, however, shows me that my reaction has very little to do with a sheet of paper and everything to do with me.

Some things simply take time and often more than one trip to the hardware store.

Personally, I think this is really good news, since I have a better shot at controlling myself than I do controlling the outside world. But the point is that the outside world really can’t control your internal one unless you let it–nothing outside of you can tell you what to think or feel. Granted, part of me is still freaking out about the medical bill, but the adult that’s sitting in this chair knows that I’ll call the hospital tomorrow and start a conversation about what can be done. Like the threshold project, I’ll want everything to be wrapped up as soon as possible, but I’ll remind myself that some things simply take time and often more than one trip to the hardware store. In this way, I hope to take my mind back from all the many people, places, and things to which I’ve let it wander, gently coaxing it back home to rest where it belongs.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Storms don’t define us, they refine us.

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Some Days You Feel Like a Nut (Blog #209)

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Dear Friends, I’ve been awake for twelve hours and haven’t done a damn thing, but it feels like I’ve been awake for three days. I’m not exactly sure that I feel worse than I’ve felt for the last week, but I certainly don’t feel better. I guess you know you’re sick when you see a donut on Facebook and all you can think is, That looks like it would take a lot of energy to pick up. I don’t know where all this snot and blood in my nose is coming from. When I woke up this morning, it was like my sinuses had “ordered-in” more junk, had some extra mucus delivered for the upcoming holidays. Surely the stuff I’ve been sniffing, hacking, and coughing hasn’t been coming from inside me.

Obviously the miracle I requested before I went to bed last night got stuck in the mail. Perhaps I should have specified that I needed it delivered Express. Maybe it’ll show up tomorrow.

I wish I had something exciting to report, but I haven’t left the house all day. Since I spent the day reading, I’ve barely left the bed. Granted, it’s just one day horizontal, but I’m starting to feel like one of Charlie’s grandparents in Willy Wonka and Chocolate Factory–completely bedridden, thinking, Will I ever be vertical again? Where is my golden ticket? Speaking of golden, I did pee a lot today. This, I suppose, was the natural consequence of drinking enough fluid to water a California Redwood during the month of August. I don’t remember the last time I ingested so much water, black tea, green tea, and dandelion tea.

I’m sure my kidneys don’t either.

I don’t think I watched a lick of television while I was on vacation. Well, I did watch part of a Disney cartoon with my nephews. But when I woke up today, Dad was watching “his soap,” Days of Our Lives, so I watched it while I ate breakfast. This is often the case when I’m at home, so I’m starting to recognize characters and plot lines. Today I even asked Dad about a specific character, wanting to know what went on while I was out-of-town. Personally–and I’m not judging if you’re addicted to a soap opera, but–I consider this a low point in my life. I really thought I’d at least have an AARP card before this happened. Really, isn’t watching a soap opera a gateway drug to becoming a senior citizen? What’s next, eating dinner at The Golden Coral at three in the afternoon?

Today I read so much that my eyes now feel like sandpaper, and I imagine that if I read even forty-three more words my brain would liquefy and run out of my ears and onto the kitchen tile. Our dog, Ella, would probably lap it up, and my last thought would be, There goes my brain–it’s been real. It’s been real–that’s what a guy told me a couple years ago after we went on two or three dates. I said, “It’s been wonderful getting to know you,” and he flashed me the peace sign and said, “It’s been real.” This person had been given a driver’s license–he was in college. Of all the words in the English language, those are the only three he could string together?

Seriously, straight ladies, how do you put up with my gender?

Most of my reading today consisted of David Sedaris, David Sedaris, and David Sedaris. But I also finished a book about writing, read a chapter in a self-help book, and started a book about the world’s religions. Considering I’ve had the religions book for longer than I can remember, I don’t know why I just started reading it today. Who can say why anything happens? Anyway, all the information was a lot to process for this tired brain and body, so I had to take a nap in between David Sedaris and Hinduism.

During the nap I dreamed I was in an open field, climbing on some oil barrels. Flying in the air was a giant spacecraft shaped like an acorn. Considering whiskey has never given me a dream like this, I’m blaming the green tea. Regardless of where the dream came from, I’ve been chewing on the meaning of it for a few hours. The first thing that came to mind when I thought about the flying acorn was “stored energy,” which I guess would apply to the oil barrels too. When I looked up acorns on an online dream dictionary, it said they represent potential–something small that can grow into something big. So despite the fact that I currently don’t feel very energetic, I’m taking this dream as a positive sign (auspicious, as my therapist would say) that I have a lot of energetic reserves and plenty of potential for growth.

As for the part about the acorn flying? Well, I guess the sky’s the limit.

In the book about religions, it said that because one moment is constantly dying to the next, our days are filled with funerals and rebirths. Seen in this light, I suppose the person who crawled out of bed this morning is no longer alive, and a different one is typing at the table now. Likewise, I hope this one will pass away and a healthier one will wake up tomorrow. Surely if our bodies can fill our sinuses with snot and our heads with dreams, anything is possible. We spend our days worrying about how we feel, what other (stupid) people say to us, and all of our soap operas. But every bit of that stuff is outside of us, and what matters is inside. This is where our true potential lies, the place where anything can happen, the place where acorns become oak trees.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Take your challenges and turn them into the source of your strengths.

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