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

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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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When the universe speaks—listen.

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A Letter to My Younger Self (Blog #921)

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Dear fifteen-year-old me,

I know you may not recognize me, but I’m you at the age of thirty-nine. I know, we’re old now–all grown up–but we still look pretty good if you ask me. Especially considering all the beer and chocolate cake we’ve had in the last twenty-four years. But I digress. I’m writing because I’ve been thinking about you all evening. This afternoon I saw my chiropractor, and he suggested that the reason I have so many physical problems (sinus infections, tight shoulders, headaches) around my throat (fifth chakra) area is because the throat is where we speak our truth. And–apparently–that’s difficult for me to do.

Now, granted, speaking my truth is easier than it used to be. Certainly it’s easier than when I was your age, and that’s one of the things I’d like to (truthfully) discuss with you. Another thing my chiropractor suggested was that my fear of speaking up was directly related to my survival instinct (first chakra). For example, over the years I’ve worked with or for a number of people–hell, I’ve dated a number of people–to whom I really wanted say, “Fuck you and this noise. I’m out of here.” That was my truth. But because I perceived that I needed their love, money, or approval (or all three), I zipped my lips and stayed. I believe my body has paid the price for this–in stress, upset stomaches, and tensions headaches, among other things.

I’m sorry, body.

Where you come in is that I know all of this people pleasing in order to survive business started when we were a teenager. Probably younger. Things always begin sooner than you think they do. Regardless, looking back I can see that this pattern of behavior was firmly in place when we were in junior high. Dad had just been arrested, tried, convicted, and sent to prison, and Mom was sick. Consequently, you had a lot on your shoulders. A lot. Because you loved your family, you were trying to help them. At the same time, you were working your ass off in school, trying to be the best student. All this while suppressing your sexuality and–more often than not–your authentic responses.

In case I’ve never said it, I’d like to recognize that it was all really too much for us. We did a wonderful job, the best we could, but we could have just as easily cracked up because it was too much for a teenager to gracefully manage. I think the only reason it worked is because our body bore the burden, stored the stress and shoved-down emotions in a thousand little places.

I guess I’d like to talk about those shoved-down emotions. All the anger you felt at the situation and some of the people involved. All the frustration because, despite your best efforts, life didn’t improve. All the disappointment. The lost hope. These emotions haven’t gone anywhere.

I know that I’m a real hard-ass with us most of the time (thirty-nine years). I know that I more than imply that our best isn’t good enough. I say, “If only we were better, these bad things wouldn’t be happening.” But I’d like to say now that I’m really impressed with how you handled everything. I know you did the best you could, and–honestly–it was really fucking great, more than good enough. Looking back I wish we could have said no and hell-no, but I realize the only reason we couldn’t is because no one taught us how. Plus, our saying yes to everyone else instead of ourselves was a matter of survival. Shoving our emotions down was what we had to do in order to get by.

The good news is that it worked. All these years later, we’re still here. Thankfully, we’ve learned a lot along the way. With some good help and support (it does exist), we’ve learned to express our emotions more often, to speak our truth more often. Is it still a challenge? Yes. Perhaps it always will be. We can’t all be Julia Sugarbaker. But things are so much better than they used to be.

Going back to my being a hard-ass, I know that I put a lot of pressure on us to be perfect. Like, if we’re going to speak up for ourselves, we have to do it perfectly–in every situation, anytime someone crosses a boundary. And whereas I think speaking up for ourselves is important, I think it’s even more important for us to speak up TO ourselves. For us to be honest with us about what’s going on inside. Like, I’m angry. I’m discouraged. I’m overwhelmed.

Earlier tonight I really looked at a picture of you. I didn’t rush by it like I usually do or barely glance at it because it was during our awkward phase. No, I really looked at us. And you know what I realized? We weren’t that awkward. We were pretty hot for a teenager. More than that, we were strong. We had everything we needed to get by in life, even if it didn’t feel like it at the time. Anyway. What I really want you to know is that no matter how many years go by, I’m always here for you. Despite all the times I’ve tried to either ignore or intellectualize what we went through, I’m willing to listen–to your anger, your fear, your sadness, your joy. Whatever wants to come up, I’m willing to feel it now. I believe this can only be healing. For you, for me, for us.

Sweetheart, I love you,

Thirty-nine-year-old us

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Rest gives us time to dream. One day, for certain, you’ll wake up. And you’ll be grateful for the time you rested, and you’ll be just as grateful that you’re different, far from the person who fell asleep.

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Not Just on the Roof (Blog #916)

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I took the above photo several years ago from the window of my old dance studio. (Facebook reminded me about it today.) Back then I was on the second story of a cool building in Historic Downtown Van Buren. Sometimes after everyone else left I’d sit in the window or crawl out on the roof and watch traffic go by and stare at unaware pedestrians, maybe while listening to Jamie Cullum or smoking a cigarette. Especially on evenings when the sun was setting and the sky was a Crayon box of colors, it was like my little piece of heaven. I don’t miss many things about the studio now, but I miss that spot and the feeling I had sitting there. As The Drifters so accurately said, “On the roof, it’s peaceful as can be.”

Last night I went to bed sick with sinus junk. And whereas I was hoping my probiotics would heal me during the night, they didn’t do crap, which means I woke up with more (really colorful) junk this morning. This was frustrating, but not completely disheartening. I have, after all, been down this road dozens and dozens of times before, and my body always eventually finds its balance. A word that’s been popping up in my experience the last twenty-four hours is harmony, the idea of everything working together in unison. This is what I’m hoping for–harmony in my sinuses, harmony in my body. It’s what I’m praying for. It’s what I’m working toward.

Despite my having a head full of phlegm, today has been lovely. I saw my therapist this morning, ate a tasty salad for lunch, then spent the afternoon at a coffee shop, reading, learning. Then I ran all over town in search of MORE probiotics to hopefully help my sinuses. This mission was only mildly successful–I found one new thing to try–but that’s okay. I enjoy the hunt, the trial and error. Do I enjoy hacking and coughing in the meantime? Hell no. But I have noticed the last few months that being sick carries less of a “charge” for me than it used to. What I mean is that I used to really freak out, worry, and stress every time I got sick. I’d think that God was punishing me, that if I were only a better or smarter person I wouldn’t be sick in the first place. Now most of that guilt and fear is gone. I still get sick, I just don’t beat myself up about it like I did before. Plus, I have more hope. Over a year ago I had a sinus infection that lasted three months. It was hell, but I made it. So I know whatever happens from here on out, I’ll make that too.

One of the things my therapist and I discussed today was abundance, which is something she deep-down believes in and something I think sounds good if you say it fast. That being said, I’m coming around to the idea. Anyway, she’s recently been sick also, and she said that when you’re an independent operator (who gets paid by the hour) and get sick and can’t work, it’s easy to question the notion that you’re always supported by God or the universe. “But we are,” she said. “We always have more than we need.”

“I have more snot than I need,” I said.

I told my therapist that recently I’ve had some strong emotional reactions to things. For example, I got immediately angry when someone sent me a text message. I got squirmy when someone else asked me to do a certain odd job. And whereas I knew that my emotions were information from my intuitive system saying respectively, “Stand up for yourself,” and, “Run, Will Robinson,” my therapist suggested thinking of my emotional reactions as “tells.” Like, in the future when I become immediately angry or squirmy, I’ll know it’s my gut’s way of communicating, “Look alive, kid.” She said she has her tells for knowing when a potential client won’t work out and always regrets it when she goes against her inner guidance.

I realize I’m jumping around here, but this is how my therapy sessions work. Shit happens in between visits, and I make a note about it. Then when I finally see my therapist, I hop from note to note. One minute we’re talking about comedians on Netflix (we both have a thing for stand-up), the next minute we’re talking about a confrontation I’ve had or need to have, and the next minute we’re talking about relationships. Today she said, “Relationships aren’t for punks.” This came up because I’ve had a number of friendships fizzle out over the last several years and sometimes still feel gross about it. I think, Who was right and who was wrong? Am I being stubborn? Am I holding a grudge? But as my therapist explained, “Relationships are real messy. Both parties have to be adults. They have to be willing to own their shit and apologize when necessary.”

It’s easy to romanticize the past, to look back at photos and think, Those were the good old days. Bitch, please. There’s no such thing. Sure, there might have been something in your past that you enjoyed and wish you could experience again, but–I swear–it wouldn’t be the same even if you could. Additionally, we forget that life–our past, present, and future–is always a mixed bag. I miss sitting on the roof at my old dance studio. I miss that peaceful feeling. However, I don’t miss the drama of owning the studio or my lack of self-awareness at the time. Back then I had a great view of downtown, but a piss-poor view of myself and my relationships. Largely thanks to therapy and this blog, now my perspective has shifted dramatically for the better. Doing The Hard Work has made all the difference. Now I can get that peaceful feeling anywhere–because it’s inside me. Not just on the roof.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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And God knows you don't make everyone else happy. But this is no reason to quit or be discouraged, since doing what you love and feel called to do is never--never--about gaining acceptance from others.

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A Chair to Sit in (Blog #868)

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It’s nearly two in the morning, and I’m having a tough time focusing. Today has been a busy day, and I guess I’m having trouble winding down. This morning I finished a room I started painting a few days ago, then came home, ate a sandwich, and took a shower. Then I headed to Fort Smith for a meeting, a meeting that got postponed while I was on my way to it. And whereas this normally would have bothered me, it didn’t. For whatever reason, I’ve been in a fabulous mood all day and have been impervious to irritation. This is extremely ironic, since yesterday I was covered from head to toe in frustration.

Sometimes life throws you a bone.

After I had my estate sale a few years, the only piece of furniture I owned was a small bookshelf. Then last summer when my aunt had a yard sale, I doubled my furniture collection–by adding an old leather ottoman. And whereas I was set on only acquiring new things (because I was in the middle of starting a new life), I fell in love with this ottoman because it belonged to my grandparents. It even has one of grandpa’s famous cigarette burns on it. Anyway, for the last year the ottoman has simply sat in my room in front of my window. Mostly, it’s given me a place to tie me shoes.

So get this shit. Today on a whim I went to an antique store and found a lovely leather chair that matches my ottoman–for the bargain price of $24. Talk about a steal. So I bought it.

Then I bought a pillow to go with the chair.

Because when you’re my age you’ve got to think about lower lumbar support.

I can’t tell you how excited I am about having this chair. Now I can read in my own room sitting up instead of lying down. I can listen to music while sipping tea. I can have company (not everybody at once!) and offer them a place to sit instead of insisting they share my twin bed.

Boy was that getting awkward.

Now it’s three in the morning, and I keep getting distracted by other things. Plus, I’m tired. So although I hate to be abrupt, I’m going to wrap this up. Last night I mentioned that at the end of a rough day (yesterday) I got excited about a new creative idea. This idea, I’m sure, has much to do with my good mood today. This fascinates me, the idea that one’s mood can turn around just like that by thinking about something that excites you, something that gets your creative juices flowing.

And all the better if you have a chair to sit in where you can think about these things.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Of all the broken things in your life, you’re not one of them–and you never have been.

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Each Step is Necessary (Blog #866)

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This morning I finished painting a room I started painting a couple weeks ago before The Great Upset Stomach Incident of 2019. Well, I technically didn’t paint it today. Rather, I scraped paint off the windows then cleaned up the mess I made on the floor. Then I put the light switch and electrical outlet covers back on. This is all part of the process when painting a room–the details. With respect to this particular project, twenty percent of my total time was spent either getting the room ready to paint or putting it back together after having painted it.

After finishing that room, I started on another. This room was smaller than the first, but it still took over an hour to tape off the carpet around the baseboards, scrape off some old paint that was peeling inside the closet, and get the drop cloth down. Once things were prepped and ready to go, I was ready to go. That is, I took a break so I could see my chiropractor and grab lunch. Later, I came back and got one full coat of paint applied to that room. Ugh. I’d wanted to finish the whole thing tonight, but things always take longer than you want them to.

This is what tomorrow’s for.

Several days ago I figured out the rash on my arm is ringworm, a fungus. I can’t tell you how grossed out I’ve been about it. Anyway, I’ve been putting anti-fungal cream on it and, honestly, probably overdoing it. Still, although I have to admit it’s colorful to look at, I want the damn thing gone. Well, after three days of applying the cream, I couldn’t tell a difference. I thought, Maybe I’m doing something wrong. MAYBE IT’S CANCER! But then just like that, this morning, I noticed a significant positive change. Now it’s pink instead of red. There’s new skin forming. My point is that, first, if you just look at things as they are–a half-painted room, a fungus on your arm–you can’t always tell something good is happening. Second, if you’re not patient, you’ll probably get real frustrated and and think things are worse than they are.

There’s a famous tale that gets told a lot in spiritual circles. A wise man prayed that his teenage son would always be safe, and the next day his son fell off a horse and broke his leg. “How awful,” the villagers said, but the wise man stayed silent. Later when a war broke out and most the town’s youth were drafted to their ultimate demise, the wise man’s son was spared. How could he fight with a broken leg?

So often this happens in our own lives. We think something is awful, and it turns out to be good. Today my chiropractor and I talked about my current frustrations, the chief of which is that it often feels like I’m doing everything right and not getting the results I want (in my health, in my life). However, the truth is that I have a limited perspective. I look back on my life thus far and think, All of that was necessary preparation. So wouldn’t it make sense to think that what I’m living NOW–even with all its pains and frustrations–is also necessary preparation for what I will be living LATER?

Of course it would.

Each step is necessary.

My chiropractor’s suggestion was for me to see how much I could embrace. That is, often when things aren’t going how we want them to, we push against the universe. We go to work with a scowl on our face and curse and spit at every opportunity because we feel we’re being put upon by life. (Or is that just me?) But there is another option. Personally, I know I have it within me to ENJOY whatever it is I’m doing, whomever I’m around (well, almost). I can EMBRACE the moment–half-painted room, a fungus among us, this is my life right here, right now. I can recognize that everything is part of The Process. I can recognize that each step is necessary. I can recognize that all things are progressing, healing as they should.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Abundance is a lot like gravity--it's everywhere.

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When Your Inner Child Throws a Fit (Blog #863)

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Two hours ago I was just about to start blogging when my dad invited me to go out for a waffle. Well, what do you think I did? That’s right, I went out for a waffle. And whereas it was delicious, now it’s now eleven-fifteen and I’m nearly too tired to write. For the last thirty minutes I’ve been here at the keyboard trying to figure out what to say. Ugh, today my emotions have been all over the place. And not that I mind talking about my emotions, I just haven’t been able to get a significant enough handle on what they are in order to do so. Maybe we can figure this out together.

This afternoon I read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by CS Lewis. Then I went to the library to tune into a live Q&A for an online class I’m taking about archetypes (among other things). Alas, when the video stream started, I found myself frustrated–first because my phone’s mobile data and internet connection had been down all day (I contacted tech support at the library and found out there was an area-wide outage), second because the video stream started thirty minutes late (they were having technical issues too), and third because Google said the rash on my right arm is ringworm (ick, gross). Later I got more frustrated because the Q&A was still going on as the library was closing, which meant I had (I chose) to sit just outside the library on a bench in the hot sun in order to stay connected to their internet and finish the video.

While I was outside, I got a headache and ants crawled up my pants.

This evening I mowed and weedeated my parents’ lawn. And whereas everything went fine, the weedeater I used was–how shall I say this?–below average in intelligence. Like, it’s one of those battery-operated numbers that won’t let you tap the end on the ground to let out more cord. Instead, every time you want more line, you have to turn the weedeater off, turn it upside down, take the lid off the line container, and release more line by hand. This gets old really quick. This GOT old really quick. Y’all, by the time I finished the lawn, I was ready to spit.

Oh well, I thought after I took a shower, at least there’s chocolate cake that the neighbor brought over. That’ll make me feel better.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” my dad said when I looked in the kitchen and couldn’t find the cake. “I ate all of that.”

AAAAARRRRRGGGAAAAHHHH.

Okay. I think we figured out my emotional roller coaster. Nothing AWFUL happened today, but I did experience a number of frustrating and disappointing situations, things I wanted to go one way that went another. Welcome to the planet, Marcus. Sometimes life throws you a curve ball. Or a dozen curve balls. A day.

Look alive.

Personally, I wish I were blogging about something else, something more “positive.” I don’t like admitting that I’m–well–human and have days that get the best of me. That being said, I’m not currently AT MY BEST. I just got over a stomach bug. My body is tired. Life’s been kicking my can for a while now. I’m not complaining. I’m okay with being kicked around a bit. Because I’ve asked the universe for a new life and I understand that–the rules says–my old life has to die first. Still, days like today, although necessary to develop character, aren’t fun.

I just said that emotionally trying days develop character. It’s true; they do. At the same time, I’ve spoken before about constriction versus freedom, and I think that which frustrates us gives us an opportunity to be free, to EXPAND. I’ll explain. The online class I watched today said that when dealing with your inner child, a common response for most people is to tell it, “Shut the hell up and sit the eff down.” But would you do this with your own living, breathing child? No. At least I hope you wouldn’t. Rather, if your child came to you crying, frustrated and disappointed, you’d OPEN YOUR ARMS WIDE and say, “It’s okay, Sweetheart. There, there. Tell me all about it.”

In other words, you’d make room for them.

Now, when your inner child throws a fit, it’s obviously not wise to let it run the show. Nor would it be wise to offer it waffles (like I did tonight) every time it doesn’t get its way. Before long, you’d have to buy all new pants! So I’m not suggesting indulging every inner temper tantrum you have. Let’s face it, few of us have hours, days, or lives that go our way. What I am suggesting is that ignoring any part of yourself is only going to amplify its voice. We’ve all seen ignored children, and it’s not a pretty sight. Well, you’re inner child is no different. It needs your attention. It needs you to acknowledge its feelings. Your feelings. It needs you to listen to you.

You need you to listen to you.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There’s a power that comes when you meet life’s challenges head-on. Those are the times you breathe the deepest. Those are the times the waters come forth and your heart beats every bit as loud as the thunder claps. Those are the times you know more than ever—no matter what happens next—in this moment, you’re alive.

"

Snap! The Job’s a Game (Blog #838)

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This morning I watched a (ten minute) video by intuitive Robert Ohotto in which he suggested something he calls the I Don’t Give a Shit (IDGAS) Detox. The basic concept is that for a week or two you stop giving a shit about whatever it is you give a shit about. If you want to take it a step further, you write down your reactions to not giving a shit. Like, That felt nice to not give a shit about what other people think about my hair, or Maybe I should have given a shit about that noise my car was making–because now it’s broken down on the side of the road. As I understand it, the IDGAS Detox is designed to alert you to how you spend your mental and emotional energy.

Which, incidentally, you only have so much of.

I’ve thought about this a lot today, about not giving a shit. And whereas I’ll spare you all the specific incidents to which I’ve applied the wisdom of IDGAS–or, truth be told, IDGAF–I will include a short list of things I think we could all care less about. Here we go–what’s happening on Facebook, what anyone else is doing (period), whether or not someone else calls or texts you back, what other people think about anything about you, how you compare to others, and (take this one however you like) whether or not you can still get into the same pants you could in high school.

That’s a sex joke, Mom.

As I’ve thought about these things today I’ve realized I spend a lot of time worrying or being concerned about things that really don’t matter. And not that any of this is unusual or directly harmful, but it does affect exactly how much joy I experience from moment to moment, and all that adds up. Robert suggests the IDGAS Detox if you’re feeling exhausted, and I think that’s his point. If you’re getting enough sleep every night and still find yourself tired, it may be because you’re wearing yourself out with all your mental gymnastics. The ones that sound like, Everyone else has it better than I do. They’re so much richer, smarter, and more talented than I am. Or vice versa.

Give it a rest, Nancy.

Give it an IDGAS rest.

This afternoon I saw a chiropractor, a friend of mine, who uses a lot of unconventional (weird) techniques. I’m all about this sort of thing, the mind-body connection. Hell, I’m all about whatever works. My neck and shoulder have been bothering me for over six months now, so at this point I’ll try anything. Well, get this shit. When I walked in the majority of my back was, in his terms, “locked up.” In my terms, it was tense and inflexible. Thirty minutes later, it was much, much better. It was like something had let go. The best part? My friend didn’t have to crack or twist anything or do anything dramatic. Rather–and this is the weird part–he communicated with my unconscious (through muscle testing) to find out WHY my body was so uptight.

Like, “What’s your deal, Lucille?”

One of the tenants of this approach is that for each physical problem, there will be a mental/emotional component. In other words, in most cases, our bodily aches and pains don’t come out of nowhere. And whereas for me it’s tempting to think my neck and shoulder pain have to do strictly with my car accident two years ago and the fact that I’ve been doing a lot of manual labor lately, that’s a bit like thinking an appleseed can flourish into a full-grown apple tree by simply sitting on your coffee table. Of course it can’t. It needs dirt, water, and sunshine. What I’m saying is that for a physical problem to manifest (turn from a seed to a tree) in your body, it needs a particular environment in which to do so. Simply put, your thoughts and emotions are a huge part of that environment.

The good news about this: if you change the environment, you change what’s able to grow there.

According to my friend (and my unconscious), the emotion that’s related to my neck and shoulder pain is jealousy. “It’s probably not a romantic jealousy,” my friend said. Now, maybe this sounds like a bunch of crap. If so, that’s okay. I’ve thought so in similar situations in the past. But today I couldn’t truthfully say, “WHO ME? Jealous?” So instead I said, “I know exactly what kind of jealousy it is–it’s professional. It’s the thought that other people are succeeding at what they want to do and I’m not.”

“So it’s not really about all that manual labor,” my friend said.

“Well, that plays in because I don’t deep-down want to be doing all that manual labor,” I said. “I want to make the money, but I’d rather make it doing something I love.”

This wanting/not wanting, of course, is a recipe for tension both internally and externally.

With my friend’s approach, for each negative emotion that comes up, there’s also a positive one to balance it out or help remedy the situation. In my case, that emotion was delight. As an exercise, you could think jealous thoughts for a minute and see how that feels, then think thoughts of delight and see how that feels. For me, delight feels one hundred times better. When I think of things that delight me, I feel less constriction and more expansion. Freer. This is what I’ve been trying to do since this afternoon. Outwardly the rest of my day was typical–I read a book, mowed my parents’ lawn, took a shower, and began writing. But rather than adopting an attitude of pressure or obligation, I adopted one of fun and enjoyment. One of delight.

As Mary Poppins says, “In every job that must be done, there is an element of fun. You find the fun, and–snap!–the job’s a game.”

Getting back to the IDGAS Detox, I think it’s an excellent tool to use for transforming a negative emotion into a positive one. For example, whenever I’ve been tempted this afternoon and evening to be jealous of another person’s body, work, or body of work, I’ve thought, I don’t give a shit what anyone else is doing. Likewise, I’ve thought, I don’t give a shit if I read as much today as I did yesterday. I don’t give a shit if I mow the lawn perfectly. Consequently, I’ve experienced more joy. (There, that wasn’t so hard.) At the same time–and this is the real gem–I’ve freed up a good bit of mental/emotional energy that, rather than using on things I don’t like, I can now use on things I do. Because I DO give a shit about writing, I DO give a shit about dancing, and I DO give a shit about reaching my highest potential, and these things require A LOT of energy.

My final thought about all this is that when pirate ships are caught in a storm and are “going down,” the crew throws everything overboard that isn’t absolutely necessary–cargo, supplies, anyone who’s not pulling their weight. (Sorry, Petey.) Free of the extra baggage, the ship can now stay afloat. After the storm passes, it can even sail quicker than it did before. This is what discarding negative thoughts and emotions can do for you. This is what discarding negative relationships–with friends, technology, and even your own body–can do for you. It can lighten you up. It can get you to where you’re going faster.

It can turn a job into a game.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Things are only important because we think they are.

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On Tick Bites, Emotions, and Self-Acceptance (Blog #817)

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This morning my dad said he had an area on his back that had been “itching for weeks” but that he couldn’t see. You know that spot in between your shoulder blades. Well, sure enough, he had what I initially thought was a mole that was red and inflamed. Pissed off, really. Dad said, “I’ve been scratching it with the back scratcher.” Alas, this story doesn’t end here. As I took a closer look at Dad’s mole, I discovered it was a tick. An honest-to-god, bloodsucking dog tick. And, y’all it was still alive. I can’t tell you how grossed out I was. (I’ll spare you the picture I took.) I thought, These things wouldn’t happen if you had your own apartment, Marcus. Still, I rubbed the tick with an alcohol swab, and it backed out. Then I flushed it down the toilet.

Following The Great Back Tick Incident of 2019, I rushed around today from one thing to another. First I taught a dance lesson. Then I saw my therapist. Then I saw my physical therapist. Then I saw my massage therapist, then my chiropractor. I know, I know, all this help, and I STILL have problems. What can I say? It’s hard out here for a pimp. Anyway, finally, this evening, I attended my friend Marla’s short story writing class. And whereas I stayed up late last night and TRIED to write the middle of the story I started last week, I didn’t get very far, just a hundred words.

When I confessed my “sin” of not having written more this last week, Marla said, “That’s okay, you got a hundred words. A hundred words is something.” And whereas my inner perfectionist disagrees and thinks a hundred words isn’t “enough,” I know she’s right. A couple months ago I completed what was supposed to be a 1,000 piece puzzle only to find out that a single, solitary piece was missing. Talk about wanting to pull my hair out. Still, the point remains, every piece of a puzzle is important. Likewise, every word, sentence, and paragraph in a story is important. For one thing, you never know where something will lead, what something is connected to.

This is what I keep telling myself as I’m working on my short story, that it’s just as important to get all the pieces laid out on the table as it is to put them all together. Indeed, when writing, you’ve got to find out what you’re working with. This means sitting down consistently and shaking your conscious and subconscious minds out onto the page. THEN you can begin to arrange, THEN you can begin to make sense of things. Marla says writing is “so healing” because, in effect, you get to use your characters to work through all your issues. I agree. Even though I haven’t written a lot of fiction, this project has taught me that if you want good writing, you’ve got to let everything inside you bubble up.

Lately I’ve been having dreams in which either I or someone else has been 1) yelling or 2) behaving like a slut. Always in these dreams there’s another person, or me, doing just the opposite–speaking calmly or being a perfect gentleman. My therapist says the meaning of the dreams is obvious. Good Boy Marcus and Bad Boy Marcus are “trying to figure things out.” This is what you have to face whenever you write or otherwise decide to work on yourself–that, in the words of Uncle Walt (Whitman), you contain multitudes. For me this means that although I’m almost always a “real nice guy,” I have the potential to be (and sometimes am) a real prick. (“What’s wrong with being an asshole?” my therapist says.) Though I’m usually a finicky prude, I have the potential to be a real whore.

As one book I read about one’s shadow said, the back is as big as the front.

Honestly, I don’t like this setup. I’d much rather think of myself as all this and none of that. However, having spent years believing that parts of me were bad and needed to be ignored, silenced, flushed out, or otherwise done away with and having tried unsuccessfully to eradicate these parts of my personality, I’ve finally come around to a rather novel concept–total self-acceptance. This means all of the Marcuses are welcome here–Marcus the Nice Guy, Marcus the Asshole, Marcus the Prude, Marcus the Slut (as long as he’s not stupid). Now, does this mean that I’m going to go to any of these extremes? No. (Don’t worry, Mom.) But it does mean that every part of me is going to be heard before any final decision is made about pressing matters.

There’s an idea in the world of healing that your body only creates pain or discomfort when it believes there is something wrong. For example, my dad’s back itched because his skin had a tick attached to it. So the itching was actually a good thing. It was a signal that something needed attention. This is what I’m truly coming to believe about our emotions–that every single one of them is there to help us. They show up to say, Houston, we have a problem. Or, if it’s anger that shows up, Houston, we have a fucking problem! Of course, at times our emotions can be explosive. In my experience this happens when I shove them down. Oh no, I’m not angry. Alas, ignored emotions, like ignored ticks, only grow bigger. So the sooner you listen to (every part of) yourself, the better.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Go easier on yourself.

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On Being a Damn Human (Blog #735)

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Well crap. It’s four-twenty in the morning, and I’m just sitting (well, sort of reclining) down to blog. It’s like the old days–writing until the sun comes up. Of course, back then I was just getting started. Part of the reason I stayed up so late to blog was because the blogs themselves took forever, sometimes six or seven hours a piece. I didn’t know what to say. But now it’s easier. It’s like part of my brain has been trained to be alert all day, gathering information to spit out later. Then whenever I open my keyboard it just knows–barf–its time to let it all out.

It’s time to let it all out. This has been on my mind today, partly because I’m working through a book about feeling (really feeling) your buried emotions (you just thought they were dead), and partly because tonight, while telling my friend Justin about what it was like for me as a teenager to sit in a courtroom and watch my dad be declared guilty of misusing his pharmacy license, I started to cry. Not that I haven’t told this story or processed it before, but tonight I included more details about me personally, how I dressed up every day to go to court. Starting off, I had this feeling of pride. I can remember my tie had a bowling ball on it. (I was totally into sports back then.) Later, after the judgment, I felt embarrassed. Anyway, I guess I didn’t realize what I felt until I told the story out loud in Justin’s living room tonight and let it all bubble up.

Thankfully, I felt (and feel) comfortable enough with Justin to let this happen, to take the lid off the buried emotions jar. We’ve known each other for twenty years, and he’s seen me laugh, cry, and get angry. I don’t think he’s ever flinched. Rather, he’s simply given me space to be a damn human. For this I am grateful and regularly tell him so. It’s a big deal to have your journey 1) witnessed without judgment and 2) affirmed. I think we all need this.

If it’s not obvious, my hanging out with Justin is why I’m blogging so late tonight. He and his wife, Ashley, and I met our friend Joseph downtown for drinks and live music this evening, then we took our party back to their house. It’d been a while since we’d all seen each other, so we stayed up pretty late. And whereas we ran the gamut of conversation, we waxed serious. I mean, I cried, but that came after a larger discussion about growing up and how and why we learn to shove our emotions down. Anyway, I’m not saying we should all talk about our childhoods every night of the week (that would be exhausting), but I am saying that if you have even one or two people in your life with whom you can let down your defenses and be a damn human every now and then, hold on to them.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We are surrounded by the light.

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You Gonna Open That or Just Let It Sit There? (Blog #296)

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Wow. It’s three in the morning, and Daddy is worn to a frazzle. (“Sometimes Marcus refers to himself as Daddy,” my mom recently explained my dad.) I’ve been dancing all day. My friend Matt and I worked this afternoon for about four hours (on three different dances), and tonight we went to an out-of-town dance where we cut a concrete rug with several friends to high-speed rockabilly music. Y’all, it was a blast, but I was sucking air. I guess I’m a little out of practice (and I HAVE been sick lately). Plus, this was at a bar where people were smoking. I’m not judging, but I’m sure that didn’t exactly help with the sucking-air thing. Anyway, it’s been a long day, but a good day.

Now somebody come tuck Daddy into bed.

Last night my parents and I went out to eat with my aunt, who drove in from Tulsa to visit. I honestly can’t remember the last time all four of us were together. Y’all, it was glorious (and the food was delicious). For at least a couple hours we caught up, laughed at each other’s jokes, and told stories about the past we’ve all heard a hundred times. At one point my aunt leaned back in her chair and said, “I am so comfortable right now. You don’t get that with everybody.”

I’ve been thinking about that today, that comfortable feeling thing. Last night Matt and I stayed at our friend Bonnie’s house, and I slept in until one this afternoon. (I’m pretty sure the bed in the guest room I was in was made by magic elves. Talk about comfortable! I may have drooled.) Anyway, Bonnie made “breakfast” for us and kept us full of snacks throughout the day as we worked on dance stuff. Periodically she’d pop into the dance room and dance with me to demonstrate or Matt so he could practice. And up until Matt and I left this evening, the three of us gabbed away, talking about dance events, life’s challenges, and anything funny we could think of. We did a lot–a lot–of laughing. At some point, just like my aunt did last night, I realized how comfortable I was, how good it felt to be around “my people.”

You know–people who get me, who really get me.

Recently I heard a spiritual entertainer of sorts say that he used to have a pretty big ego. Followers would come to him with praise or blame, and he’d take it all personally. He’d think, I‘m great or I’m shit or whatever. He said he finally got over this when he realized all those people were just looking for God or some deeper connection to themselves–it wasn’t about him at all. I’m still chewing on this idea, but I think he’s on to something.

Tonight I spent part of my time at the dance worrying about what others were thinking, but mostly simply enjoyed being there because I love dancing. Like spending time with “my people,” dancing is one of the things that almost always “feels right” and brings me joy. I think this is a good thing–having people, places, and activities that make our hearts sing. Still, the more I learn, the more I think it’s important to clarify–it’s actually impossible for another person or thing to “bring me joy.” Like, no one can put joy in a box and give it to me for Christmas. Rather, all my emotions and feelings come from inside me–they’re gifts I give to myself. At most, friends and favorite hobbies remind me that those gifts exist, like, Hey, you gonna open that or just let it sit there?

This is the deeper connection I think the spiritual entertainer was referring to, realizing that no one person or thing can give you something you don’t already have. So if I can feel comfortable around my family or friends, or if I can feel joyous at a dance, then I know I can feel comfortable or joyous–period. I’m not saying moods don’t come and go, but I am saying that all of them–all of them–are manufactured from the inside out, not the other way around. This means they’re not dependent on our circumstances. If they were, then I’d be sitting here uncomfortable and non-joyous because my family and friends are gone and the dance is over. But I’m not. Rather, the more I get to know and express myself–the more authentic I am–the more comfortable and happy I am no matter where I go, no matter whom I’m with. After all, if you’re content with yourself and you’re always with yourself, then what’s the problem?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Kindness is never a small thing."