The Gifts You Give to Yourself (Blog #243)

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I feel like all I’ve talked about for the last six weeks has been my sinus infection and I’m really not sure what to discuss now that it’s gone. I mean, I’m still dealing with allergies–we could talk about that–but who isn’t dealing with allergies? Considering the fact that my health has come so so far in the last forty-eight hours, it seems like whining to even mention my red, watery eyes. Not that I’m above whining. (Did I mention my ears itch too?) Still, I’ve had plenty of energy today and am not coughing as much as before, so things are definitely on the upswing–or is it the downhill?

Either way, praise the lord (and bless my heart).

This afternoon I went to my aunt’s house to repair her Sleep Number mattress. Apparently, the air pump for the mattress has been working (inflating and deflating), but the display on the attached remote hasn’t been. Last week the company sent my aunt a whole new unit (pump and fancy wireless remote), and I guess they told her “anyone can install it” and “it’ll only take five minutes.” Perhaps you see where this is going. Y’all, it took closer to an hour, since I had to disassemble the entire mattress in order to detach the old pump hoses and attach the new ones. Honestly, this wasn’t a big deal, but the old pump had a total of four hoses (two for each side of the bed), and the new pump only had a total of two. Convinced I was looking at the wrong pump for the job, I called the company.

Well, the lady explained that the old pump was designed to inflate through one hose and deflate through the other, somewhat like a divided highway. But the new pump was designed to inflate and deflate through the same hose (talk about a traffic jam), so all I had to do was hook one hose to each side, then plug the two extra holes in the mattress with the end caps they sent in the box. “Oh, those end caps,” I said. The she said, “So yeah–don’t worry–one hose is all you need.”

All I could think was, Oh honey, if only that were true.

After that things were basically a breeze, although I did almost get stuck crawling under the bed to plug in the air pump. (Apparently I’m no longer the size of an eight-year-old child.) But everything else was fine, that is until I walked through the garage to get my toolbox out of my car and stepped on one of those glue trap used to catch mice. I thought, You’ve got to be kidding. Y’all, those things don’t come off easily, especially when you’re hopping around on one foot. I felt like I was in an episode of The Three Stooges. Later, when I finally got the glue pad pulled off, I texted my sister about it, and she said, “At least there wasn’t a dead mouse on it.” I replied, “No, just a cockroach–and my shoe.”

This evening I went to the library to read and spent half my time looking at new books to borrow. (I walked out with three I didn’t walk in with.) Considering I already have plenty of other books to read, I’m starting to see this behavior as a mild form of self-deception. Like, I’ll make time to read that. Or I guess it could simply be the thrill of acquiring something new. Yesterday, for Cyber Monday, I picked up a couple new books for my Kindle on Amazon. I only spent two dollars, but you’d have thought I’d won the lottery. (Two new books!) Whether I read them or not, it is fun having a collection. Granted, I have to return the library books, but at least they don’t cost anything.

The book I actually read tonight was the one I got last week about allergies and sinus problems. So far the author has listed plenty of good tips about air filtration, diet, and supplements, but tonight he also said that love is a healing power. To me this means that the body and immune system thrive in an environment of positive relationships, connectedness, and self-acceptance.

Along these lines, I’ve decided I’d like to reframe how I look at some of my “healthy behaviors.” For example, nine days ago I restarted my chi kung practice. Chi Kung is an ancient Chinese healing art, somewhat similar to tai chi. Well, whenever I restart my practice, it’s usually because there’s a problem (like a chronic sinus infection), and I’m wanting to do something–anything–to make that problem go away. But I realized tonight there’s a difference between doing something because I want a problem to go away and doing something because I want to feel as good as possible. Maybe either way I’m still doing chi kung, but when I focus on the problem, the practice seems aggressive, like me versus (the sick) me. But when I focus on wanting to feel good, the practice seems loving, like me supporting (the sick) me.

Honestly, I think I do a lot of things in the spirit of aggression. I’m not talking about fists-clenched aggression, I’m talking about subtle aggression that simple sounds like part of me needs to be different than it is–healthier, smarter, richer, more attractive. It’s as if one part of me is trying to change another. Of course, this is virtually impossible because, well, I’m one person. So tonight I started telling myself, I’m reading because I like to read and because I love myself. I’m doing chi kung because I love my body and want it to heal. I’m getting stuck under my aunt’s bed and stepping on a mouse trap because I love her. Honestly, I think these actions were loving before, I just wasn’t acknowledging them as such and giving credit where credit was due because I was too busy focusing on what was “wrong.” But I’m finding there’s relief in recognizing the gifts you give to yourself and others, a lot of “letting your guard down,” a lot of “not being so hard on yourself,” a lot of “isn’t it nice to be home again?”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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What are you really running away from?

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A Mixed Bag (Blog #174)

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Yesterday morning, after three days of yard work and finding a possum in my bed the night before, I called waste management in Fayetteville to schedule a pick-up for all the tree branches piled by the curb in Ray’s front yard. Stuff like this makes me nervous because I usually feel as if I’m an imposition. My side of the conversation always sounds like, “Uh–I’ve got these–tree branches–I’m sorry if having trees makes me a bad person–but these branches fell and are dead–and could you–maybe, possibly, if you’re not busy–come get them?” At least that’s how it feels on the inside. Anyway, the nice lady at the trash department said sure, they’d come get them in a couple days, so long as everything was by the curb and nothing was over twelve feet long or more than so many inches wide.

Check, check, check.

“Oh, and one more thing,” she said. “There can’t be anything ABOVE the pile for fourteen feet.”

I thought, Shit. There’s a tree AND a power line over the pile of branches–the REALLY BIG pile of branches that’s not going to move itself.

Did I say shit?

After all the yard work/hard work, the thought of moving that pile was more than I could handle, so I decided to run some errands and give it a minute. Since I had sinus surgery in February, I’d been meaning to drop off a cookie cake for the doctor and his office. I mean, they were amazing and my life is a hundred times better than it was before. Y’all, if you haven’t tried breathing, you should–it rocks. Anyway, I’d been trying to come up with a cute saying or something clever to put on the cookie cake. Like, I did this once before for my dermatologist’s office after the little warts that had been on my face for over a year FINALLY disappeared. That cake said, “I’m happy to report that I can’t find a wart.”

Cute, right?

Well, despite the fact that I’m a writer and an all-around creative guy, I couldn’t come up with squat for the sinus doctor. Uh, gee, it’s nice to breathe. Nobody knows noses like you do. (Strike one, strike two.) So this weekend I gave up and decided I didn’t have to be cute and that I should just go ahead and order the damn cake and have it say, “Thank you.” (Short and to the point.) So I picked up the phone, dialed the number, and–I’m not kidding–exactly as someone answered, the idea showed up.

I said, “Yes, I’d like a cake that says, ‘Thanks (exclamation point). You’re a breath of fresh air.’ And please don’t spell ‘you’re’ wrong.”

All that to say that after finding out those branches were piled in the wrong spot, I delivered the cake to my doctor’s office. Afterwards I was starving, so I stopped at Village Inn, ate breakfast, and drank a lot of coffee. Y’all, it’s amazing what pancakes and caffeine can do. I thought, Okay, that pile of branches isn’t so big. I can move that.

Fortunately, Jesse helped. We got it done in less than an hour. After we picked up the scraps and swept the sidewalk, it was like magic, as if the pile of branches had never been there in the first place.

Here’s the new pile, on the side of the house. Hopefully it will also disappear before the week is over. Also, if I never see a pile of branches like this again, it’ll be too soon.

Today I’ve been smelling my arm pits a lot. I decided to try again with better eating, so I went to Walmart earlier to buy groceries, and every now and then I’d sneak my nose over by my shoulder, lift my arm as if reaching for something on the top shelf, and sniff. As I’ve said before, they used to smell like–I don’t know–bleach or ammonia, anything but a turn-on. Well, I’ve been using a deodorant cream I read about online, so twice a day I’ve been smearing it under my arms and everywhere else that doesn’t see the sun. I don’t want to speak to soon, but I think the cream is working. It has boric acid in it, so as a bonus I don’t have any cockroaches on my–well–you know. That being said, the cream has its own distinct odor, so I keep trying to sort out all the aromas. Honestly, I feel like a child picking at a scab.

Leave it alone, Marcus.

The first time I blogged about my mom having cancer, I discovered a mouse in the house. Since then, we’ve all seen the mouse running around, putting his feet up on the divan, smoking cigars, and generally making himself at home. Mom says there’s more than one. We’ve had traps set out, but nothing has worked. I’ve been so overwhelmed by the whole thing, it’s been easier to give the little assholes a high-five than reset the traps or try something different. But tonight at Walmart I thought, I can do this, and bought new traps. Then when I got home–get this shit–one of the mice was actually stuck on a glue pad behind a chair in the living room.

And it was still alive.

Squeaking.

I’m just going to say it.

Dad pulled the mouse off the glue pad, the mouse bit Dad’s finger, and Dad put the mouse down the garbage disposal (and turned it on).

It was kind of awful.

I still have a mixed bag of feelings about it.

Dad’s finger should be fine.

Just a while ago my mom and I had a long talk about cancer and depression. She has both and says depression is worse. I don’t have either, but I believe her. All of it is tough to watch, but that’s life. Today our neighbor brought Mom a scarf to wear on her head, and Mom said she was planning to Google how to fashion it. Pulling the scarf out of the sack, I tied it around my head like a bandana. Mom said, “Or I guess I could just ask my gay son.” Then she laughed, which was wonderful to hear.

Some days, most days, are a mixed bag. We cry, we laugh, we quit, we start again. That’s life.

I don’t know why life works the way it does. You spend months with warts on your face, a smell in your arm pits, or a mouse in your house, and then one day it’s gone like a pile of branches that’s been picked up, cleaned up, and moved somewhere else. Or maybe you spend half a year trying to think of something to say on a cookie cake, and the moment you let go is the moment the thing shows up. I guess all of us deal with problems of all shapes and sizes. One minute we look at whatever it is and think, I can’t–it’s too much. Then we eat breakfast, maybe go for a walk, and we realize we can. Some days, most days, are a mixed bag. We cry, we laugh, we quit, we start again. That’s life. In the process, we find out we’re stronger than we thought we were, and perhaps this is at the heart of healing.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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