Well shit. The end of this blog is getting real. After tonight, I only have three more posts. Granted, something could happen. I could get sick or die first. But it looks like I’m going to make it. That feels good. At the time time, it’s terrifying. I’ve said it a lot lately, but this blog has been such an anchor for me, the idea of letting go of it feels like cutting all strings. Like I’m about to be drifting at sea. And whereas that’s exciting–I’m free, I can go where the wind blows–it’s like, gosh, I hope I learned how to sail.
I guess that’s it. I’ve gotten into a certain rhythm with this blog, there’s a predictability, a stability in the routine. Granted, it’s not always what I want to be doing, especially when I’m worn out and don’t feel like writing, or when no one pats me on the back for it (I’m big on words of affirmation), but there’s always a comfort, a safety in knowing “I wrote today.” But starting on Tuesday of next week, I won’t have that. Even if I continue writing regularly, I won’t have it in such a public, real-time way. That’s what they say about writing. It’s like telling a joke and having to wait three years to find out if it’s funny. Especially if you’re writing a book, you don’t get that immediate response.
Response is something that’s been on my mind lately. Because although a respectable number of people read my blog every day, Ellen Degeneres still gets more likes when she posts a single picture of a cat than I’ve ever gotten from all my posts combined. Ugh. This is one of the challenges to doing something creative. You can’t compare yourself to others. Well, you can, but it doesn’t do much good. Plus, the truth is that you never know what kind of an impact you’re having on people unless they tell you. And sometimes not even then. The point being that a post that’s read, liked, and taken to heart by one person could do more to change the course of that person’s life for the better than a meme that goes viral.
God works in mysterious way.
One thing I almost never do is plan out my posts. In the beginning I’d think about them all day, looking for that one idea, that one spark. I’d see a mailbox and try to make a life lesson out of it. Eventually all of that went on autopilot. A part of me just knew we needed something to say before the day was over, so it became always on the lookout. Like a radar. But subconsciously. So now it’s to the point where I can almost always sit down, open my laptop, and it–just happens.
All this being said, I have on a number of occasions thought, I really need to talk about THAT before this whole thing is over. Most recently this happened with respect to EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing). Since it’s been a big part of my healing, I just wouldn’t have felt right if I’d left it undiscussed. So this week, despite the fact that my therapist says that by this point I’ve put in my dues and could talk about nothing else but farts if I wanted to, I’ve been thinking, What’s left to say? And whereas I have a rough outline for the next three days (sum up what I’ve learned, address my readers, address myself), the only thing I could come up with for tonight was–discuss the process.
The process being what it’s been like to put out and sort through (most) of my baggage in front of others, to talk about where I struggle and what I’m learning in front of God and everybody. Well, it hasn’t been the worst thing. In fact, it’s one of the best things I’ve ever done. Largely because it’s given me a sense of freedom that I didn’t have before. Not because I feel like I’ve vomited on the internet (sorry about your shoes, but, gosh, do I feel better), but because I feel like I’ve been honest. Like, this is who I am as a person. And when you’re honest and upfront about who you are–warts and all–well, you can walk into anywhere and be comfortable. Because you don’t have to worry about being found out. Because you’ve got nothing to hide. Not that you tell everyone everything, but the charade is finally over.
First on the inside, then on the outside.
I would encourage anyone to do this. Drop the charade. Not that you have to start a blog and spill your guts, since I recognize not everyone is comfortable with the attention that comes with posting on the world wide web. Plus, you don’t have to share your journey with hundreds or thousands in order to to have a successful one. But do share your journey with someone. Because nobody gets through life alone. If they try, they suffer. Lately I’ve really been working on this. Letting others help me, hold me. Taking the weight of the world off my shoulders. Letting the world hold its own weight. Indeed, letting go of this blog is one step in this direction for me. Someone else can write every day. I can turn my attention to other projects.
Or just take a damn nap.
In terms of its reception, this blog has been a good experience for me. Meaning I haven’t caught a lot of flack for it, the way some people do on the internet. Granted, I’ve been told what to wear, what not to wear, what to do in my photos, what to say, and what not to say, but these criticisms have been few and far between. And, I think, largely well-intentioned. Even if they weren’t received as such. Either way, oh well. They haven’t changed me. I regularly get crappy comments on some of my dance videos, and I’m still forever glad they’re out there. (The videos, not the comments.) That I’m out there. When you do something creative, when you share yourself with the world, people are going to have SOMETHING to say about it. Because people ALWAYS have something to say. (It’s what we do.) So this is my encouragement to you–
Let them say whatever the hell they want. Just don’t let them stop you from sharing yourself. Your real self. Because however big, however small, the world needs your voice. Your one unique voice that refuses to hide any longer. (Why, Marcus?) Because when one of us stops hiding, it means we all can.
Finally.
Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)
"
The more honest you are about what's actually happening inside of you, the happier you are.
Today I’ve been thinking about how we create time. (I’ll explain.) Caroline Myss says that the divine works in present time, in vertical time, where thought moves into form like a lightening flash. God says, “Let there be light,” and there is. Like, instantly, not in the amount of time it takes to earn a college degree or pass a bill through Congress. Conversely, most of us earthlings work in non-present or past and future time, in horizontal time. We say, “Let there be a pot roast,” and–well–we’re looking at waiting the better part of an afternoon, anywhere from four to eight hours for a seven pound hunk of meat using a crock pot.
How do you cook a pot roast faster, Marcus?
You turn up the heat, of course. You switch your dial from low to high.
Yesterday I touched on the idea that we can decide how quickly we want to get over something–anything from a minor irritation to a gigantic heartache–by (in part) refusing to give it our attention and thus keeping it alive. For example, this afternoon while driving I momentarily crossed into the other (wrong) lane in an effort to get into the turning lane. Well, there was a car coming down the other lane (toward me), but they were far enough away (I thought) as to not be dangerous. Alas, the lady driving the oncoming car apparently disagreed, since she laid on her horn like it was going out of style.
“Did you see her flip you the bird?” my dad said.
“No,” I said, “I try not to look at people when I KNOW they’re angry with me.”
Now, could I have handled this better? Probably. But you know how we all make in-the-moment decisions that aren’t always the best in hindsight. I figure this is part of driving. People pull out in front of me all the time, and usually (but not always) I just think they’re in a hurry or that God wants me to learn patience. Hell, maybe they’re doing me a favor, slowing me down and allowing me to miss some horrific accident down the road. You never know. God works in mysterious ways. Anyway, this afternoon when the lady flipped me off, instead of taking it personally like I have in the past, I kept hearing my therapist say, “People choose their reactions.” Like, the bird lady could have CHOSEN to be gracious.
The lesson being that people’s responses have almost everything to do with them and almost nothing to do with you. Not that I’m recommending TRYING to piss people off, but let’s face it, that lady would have flipped ANYONE off who got in her way. So it really didn’t have anything to do with me.
In other words–and here’s a phrase that’s full of grace should you choose to use it for yourself–it wasn’t personal.
Getting back to the idea of creating time, had I CHOSEN to obsess about what a rotten driver I am or what a turd bucket that lady was, I could have dragged this three-second incident out for hours, days, or weeks. Instead, it was over IN MY MIND in three minutes because I convinced myself it wasn’t worth my mental and emotional resources to keep it alive. Now, I know this example may seem silly, but let’s drive things home (in the correct lane, of course). Recently I heard a story about a woman who, upon FIRST MEETING SOMEONE told them she’d divorced her cheating husband and was absolutely in shambles because he’d fallen in love with her best friend. And whereas my therapist would say this woman had bad boundaries (because you don’t talk about your personal shit to total strangers), here’s the kicker–
all of this happened nineteen years ago.
Consequently, this woman’s body was right here, right now, but her spirit was stuck in the Clinton Administration.
This is what I mean by dragging things out and creating time. When I was with my ex there was a night I got a call from a friend who told me my ex was cheating. Deep down I knew it was true. Had I been willing to move as fast as my intuition (which, incidentally works in present time), to “change as fast as God,” it could have been over that night. I could have moved out the next day. Instead, because I didn’t want to face the truth (as is always the case when we create time), I was with him another five months. Now, I know it could have been worse–some people stay in bad situations for years, decades–but it was a miserable five months.
My aunt’s visiting from out of town this weekend, and earlier today we ended up talking about paper and clutter because we each tend to let things pile up before going through them. Anyway, she said, “I’ve read that the goal with paper is to handle it just once.” Like, you put it in its proper pile and move on with your life. Instead, most of us shuffle this here, shove that there. We say, “I’ll deal with it later.” Consequently, we drag things out and slow things down. We create time. What could be done in five seconds goes on five weeks, five years. And whereas it may not be a big deal to not deal with your TJ MAXX receipts, it is a big deal to not deal with your dramas, traumas, and relationships.
I once knew a grown woman who was absolutely petrified of dogs–any breed, any size. She could see one on a leash blocks away and start running like Florence Griffith Joyner. She never said what the deal was, so I can only assume something terrible happened when she was younger. Anyway, intuitive Robert Ohotto calls this sort of reaction “a time warp.” In other words, in present time there wasn’t a problem. Here’s a lady, there’s a dog a mile away. But in her past-oriented mind, it was a big damn deal. She would tremble. She would cry. This is why the master Jesus taught letting the dead bury the dead and giving no thought for tomorrow. Not because he was insensitive, but because there’s such a heavy price to pay for not being right here, right now.
This is why he taught forgiveness. Not because it’s a holy thing to do, but because it’s a powerful thing to do. Because it keeps you from being stuck in the past.
In the Clinton Administration.
According to Myss, the more we’re stuck or anchored in the past, the slower our life moves. “The more psychic WEIGHT you have,” she says, “the more you have to WAIT for anything [getting a new job, finding a lover, or healing] to happen.” In other words, the faster YOU change, the faster your LIFE will change. This sounds great, of course, but most of us prefer cooking our pot roasts at a slower, lower heat as opposed to a faster, hotter heat because–quite frankly–we can’t stand the heat. For one thing, most of society moves at–at best–a medium, lukewarm speed, and it’s never fun to outrun your friends and family. It’s lonely at the top and whatever. For another, most of us LIKE holding on to the past. We enjoy not forgiving.
Because we get to be right. We get to make other people feel guilty.
We get to flip total strangers the bird.
[FYI, the above pictures are of me and my friends Kate and Aaron and their son, the main connection to tonight’s blog being that they were taken tonight (when we all went out for Tacos). Although we didn’t plan it, we all wore denim jackets. This is one tie-in to creating time I considered writing about but didn’t because I want to go bed. That is, our wearing the same jackets is an example of a synchronicity, and, according to Myss, the more you live your life in present time, the more synchronicities will occur for you.]
Today is blog #998 in a row, it’s two days before Christmas, and I don’t know where to start. I wish I had something profound to say. The closer I get to 1,000 blogs, the more I feel like I should. This has been a huge project–it’s changed my life–and all I can think to utter is, “Thank you for being here, I’m going to bed now.” Bed–that’s where I wish I were right this minute. Well, okay, fine, I am, but I wish I were asleep. I’ve been fighting a headache for several hours; the last thing I want to do is think and attempt to be pleasant.
Alas, I’ll going to try.
Getting back to the idea of reaching 1,000 blogs, I keep imaging something big should happen when I do. Fireworks, a parade, an apparition of the Virgin Mary. Something. More than likely, the day will come and go without fanfare. In the grand scheme of things, my 1,000th blog will “only” be one of a thousand. Granted, there will be parties, gift-giving, and plenty of celebrating, but these things will be for Jesus, not Marcus Coker. And whereas I’m not above stealing a little limelight, something tells me to let the lord have this one. It is, after all, his birthday, and it’s just one day a year.
Although to be fair, Jesus gets Easter too. The whole Holy Week if we’re being technical.
This afternoon I taught a dance lesson. And whereas the couple’s been progressing slowly, things are starting to come together. This evening I drove all the way to Fort Smith to look for a particular book I’m almost a hundred percent certain I saw at a thrift store last week, but when I got to the store it was closed for the lord’s birthday. (Some people like to drag their celebrations out). Anyway, the project I wanted the book for will simply have to wait. My point being that just like the couple I’m teaching will learn when they learn, I’ll get the book when I get it. Things happen when they happen.
Or they don’t happen at all.
More and more, I’m learning to trust the timing of things. Earlier today I was thinking about some of the most influential people in my life–my mentors–and how I came to meet them. And whereas I won’t go into all the details, suffice it to say that with each person there was a whole series of random events and connections that caused our paths to cross, things I could have never planned. For example, I had to go through hell before I found my therapist through the recommendation of a counselor friend of mine. Once I met my therapist, I thought, I should have done this sooner. And yet had I asked my counselor friend for a recommendation even a year earlier, I’m sure they would have suggested someone else–because they’d only recently met my therapist. Indeed, they originally did recommend someone else, but that person was full. At the time, I was disappointed. What if I’m missing out? I thought.
But then I met my therapist and knew–I’m right where I need to be.
It’s easy for me to look at the significant relationships in my life and think they didn’t happen by accident. But more and more I think little does. When I think of how I met and stayed in touch with my friend who recommended my therapist–wow–we’re talking about relationships that go back over thirty years, relationships that started before I was born (because my parents are–obviously–involved in this whole setup). We’re talking about me having to be in a certain place at a certain time in order to say hello to a family acquaintance I barely knew so that we could become friends and they could introduce me to their friend who eventually recommended my therapist and so on. Plus all the things that had to happen to get my therapist in the same professional circles as my friend.
Seriously, when I think about it, it boggles my mind.
What boggles my mind even more is that this sort of cosmic dancing goes on constantly. This morning I spilled a bottle full of pills and was three minutes late to a doctor’s appointment. Who knows why? Maybe I avoided an accident. Or maybe I just HAD to be part of that conversation my doctor’s secretary started with the few of us in the waiting room about what to get her male relatives for Christmas and that wouldn’t have happened three minutes earlier. I mean, I’ve been the beneficiary of someone else’s recommendation before, so who’s to say someone else can’t benefit from mine? That’s the deal on this planet. Sometimes angels are sent to you; sometimes you’re the angel that’s sent to others.
Now, you might think your two cents can’t make a difference in someone else’s life, but you’d be mistaken. Remember the widow’s mite. Remember the mustard seed. Remember God works in mysterious ways.
When I started this blog nearly 1,000 days ago, I had lots of hopes and dreams for it. I still do. But the difference between then and now is that more and more I’ve given up trying to control the whole damn thing–who reads it, what they get out of it, what they offer me in return. Like, a praise, a criticism. (So far no one’s offered to sleep with me. Kids, go to medical school. Bloggers don’t get laid. Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be writers.) But seriously, it’s precisely BECAUSE of the mysterious intricacies of life–this had to happen and this had to happen, or this couldn’t have happened–that I’ve come to the conclusion that even everyday accidents and encounters–a spilled bottle of pills, the choice to say hello, who reads my blog and what they do with it–are laced with magic and grace.
Even if we don’t see it.
Especially if we don’t see it.
Getting back to the idea that I think something big (the appearance of the Blessed Mother) should happen when I hit 1,000 blog posts, I’d like to be clear that this is purely egoic and runs counter to the traditional story of Christmas. That is, Jesus was born in a manger–with little fanfare. This is how the divine works–not by pulling up in a Mercedes Benz (or on a Mercedes Benz camel) and rolling out the red carpet for itself, but by slipping in the backdoor unnoticed. My point being that we may look at our lives and think nothing is happening. And yet all the while the gods are at work behind the scenes, setting this up, working that out. More perfectly than we ever could. This doesn’t mean we don’t have to play our part, of course. It simply means that the more we listen to our hearts and act from our souls, the less we have to worry about the results.
Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)
"You can't change your age, but you can change what your age means to you."
Okay, let’s just get right to it. This last weekend I felt like hell. Saturday I had a headache all day, and yesterday my neck hurt, my shoulder felt hot, and my lower back was locked up. This morning when I stumbled out of bed I felt every bit of my thirty-nine years and then some. And whereas I realize this could be read as complaining, it’s simply the truth.
These are the facts.
Whenever I feel this way (like a bag of ass), it’s extremely frustrating because despite my best efforts, not only are my physical problems continuing, they’re apparently getting worse. Month by month and year by year it seems there’s SOMETHING ELSE that’s not quite working right. Last summer my stomach started acting up. Since then, I haven’t been able to breathe as well. For a while now my ribs have felt constricted. Every time I breathe deeply, they hurt or my shoulder does. I’ve talked to multiple medical doctors, chiropractors, physical and massage therapists, and acupuncturists, but no one’s been able to help me significantly. The most recent medical doctor I asked about headaches said, “Posture has a lot to do with that.” And whereas I don’t disagree with that statement, no amount of posture correction techniques, including physical therapy exercises, yoga, pilates, stretching, bioenergectis, myofascial release, and chi kung, have changed my condition. I try and try to get my body to stand straight and “do right,” but I’m still in pain. One chiropractor–a doctor and self-professed “really smart” man–told me, “You’re an anomaly.”
He still took my money, of course.
I could go on and on about this topic and know I have in the past. Suffice it to say that it’s VERY DISHEARTENING to not only be faced with a physical challenge, but also to do everything you know to do to find an answer (talk to experts, read a ton of books, pray) and still come up with peanuts. Personally my biggest challenges have been sinus infections and headaches, and I know that they’ve often left me feeling quite hopeless. Indeed, there have been times that I’ve cried out to whoever’s listening up there for help and felt like I was totally ignored or–worse–completely unloved. Tylenol takes the edge off my headaches, but nothing takes the edge off this, the feeling like you’re all alone in the universe, that God’s left you twisting in the wind.
Recently I heard that a prayer heaven always answers is one that sounds like this. Dear God, I don’t care what it takes or how you turn my life upside down, but get me out of this pattern (of illness, of unhealthy relationships, etc.) Well, this is a bold prayer, of course, since you’re giving the gods permission to do what they want with your life, but–let’s face–they’re going to anyway. So you better bet I’ve been praying that prayer. Help, Lord, I want out.
I wish I could tell you that I’ve had unshakable faith that my prayer would be answered. And yes, I know that “no” and “not now” are valid answers from heaven. Sometimes we simply don’t get what we want. Sometimes, especially when it comes to physical problems, we don’t get relief until we die. This is something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. Will I simply have to suffer with this until I kick the bucket? If so, am I strong enough to do that? Because one day of solid pain is bearable, but day after day for decades? I can’t imagine. That’s one positive thing that’s come out of my hurting these last few years. For the rest of my life, I’ll hold increased compassion for anyone who feels like they’re up against a wall and getting nowhere. If this is you, I understand. My heart goes out to you.
Also, hold on. Your story’s not over.
One thing I say a lot is that God works in mysterious ways. Well, get this shit. Several weeks ago I posted about ANOTHER sinus problem I was having, and a friend of mine (whom I met through dance nearly twenty years ago and only this year reconnected with) said she used to be in the same boat but that something called Upper Cervical Care had helped. “I don’t remember the last time I had an infection,” she said. Well, for all my talking to experts and reading constantly, I’d never heard of upper cervical care, so I started digging around and found a doctor in Northwest Arkansas–Dr. Jackson Chism–who’s one of the three people in the state who practices it.
While reading the reviews on Dr. Chism’s Facebook page, I began to cry. (This is usually my intuition’s way of letting me know that what I’m hearing is true.) People were saying they’d suffered from headaches, migraines, and fibromyalgia for years and had seen vast improvements if not complete remission of symptoms. Hopeful, I told myself I would go by his office the next time I was in Northwest Arkansas. However, weeks went by and I didn’t stop by or call. I do this sometimes, put off trying something that could help because I’ve tried SO MANY OTHER THINGS that haven’t helped and don’t want to be disappointed AGAIN. Because–if this doesn’t work, then what?
One thing I’ve been looking into and have mentioned here before is a posture and movement correction program I heard about online. Seriously, it seems really smart, really legit, the main idea being that a lot of our posture problems are caused from the BOTTOM UP. Like, we sit all day, which shortens our hip flexors, which tilts our pelvis, which causes our back to sway, which rounds our shoulders, juts our head forward, and so on. Anyway, if I had the money, I’d be on a plane tomorrow to work with one of the trainers who promotes this program. (No one does it around here.) This is part of my frustration. Like, I don’t have the money, don’t have the resources to take care of myself.
However.
Recently I’ve been going through a series by Caroline Myss and Jim Curtan about the symbology of The Wizard of Oz, and one thing it says is that Dorothy’s dog’s name in Latin (Toto) means “everything,” the idea being that from the start of her journey until its very end, Dorothy always has EVERYTHING she needs. When she clicks her heels together three times and teleports back to Kansas, Glinda the Good Witch tells her, “You could have done this all along.” So I’ve been reconsidering the notion that I need more money or need to leave the state in order to heal. I’ve been thinking, Maybe the answer’s right here.
Getting back to upper cervical care, a couple weeks ago I finally called Dr. Chism’s office. As “luck” would have it, not only was he taking new patients, but he was also running a special–x-rays with consultations before and after for under $40. “Let’s do it,” I said.
Last Monday was my appointment. I met Dr. Chism, he explained what he does (I’ll get to that part below), then he took x-rays, saying that he never makes adjustments without knowing what he’s working on first. “It’s possible I’ll look at your x-rays and determine that I can’t help you,” he said. “If that’s the case, we’d be wasting my time and yours to go any further.” Then we scheduled my next appointment.
For this afternoon.
For the last week I’ve been cautiously optimistic. Dr. Chism explained that at the base of our skull sits something called an atlas, the first “disc” of your spinal column. Then he put his thumb and first finger together and dropped a pen down the middle. “Through your atlas runs a bundle of nerves that control most everything else in your body,” he said. “But if your atlas shifts because of a car accident or something, it can pinch those nerves and cause all sorts of problems. [This is why upper cervical care can help sinus infections, apparently, because your nervous system influences your immune system.] Additionally, that shift can cause your head to lean one way or the other, and then your body will lift a shoulder or tilt a hip in order to correct the problem.” Still, despite this explanation making sense to me, again, I felt like crap all weekend and thought, I’m probably just throwing money down the drain. I’m broken. God doesn’t care, and no one can fix me.
I actually thought that this morning on my way to a meeting. But no kidding, just as I finished whining, I turned my head and noticed one of the many inspirational yard signs that have recently sprouted up around town. “Don’t give up,” it said. Then, when I arrived at Dr. Chism’s this afternoon, the lyrics of the first song that came on when I sat down in the waiting room said, “Don’t you give up on a miracle. You gotta speak to the impossible.” And whereas I’m normally turned off by offices that play “churchy” music, I took this as a direct encouragement from above.
Hold on. Your story’s not over.
The first thing Dr. Chism did with me today was go over my x-rays, which are just below. On the left you can see where the vertebrae in my neck are. The red curve, Dr. Chism explained, is where they’re supposed to be. “Ideally the top vertebrae is over the bottom one, and the ones in between curve like a banana,” he said. “Yours is straight as a board.” I said, “It feels stiff as a board.”
Other doctors have pointed out the fact that my vertebrae show signs of deterioration and bone spur calcification, but no one else has adequately explained why. “If your discs were deteriorating because of age [which other doctors have said], they’d all look the same because they’re the same age,” Dr. Chism said. “But some of yours are better than others.” Then he explained that my discs were showing signs of wear because my head is forward of my body, and my structure is trying desperately to support itself. “For every inch your head is forward, it adds ten pounds. So a ten pound head becomes a twenty or thirty pound one,” he said. “That’s why your body’s laying down new bone, in order to shore itself up.” Then he pointed to the base of my skull (where I experience the worst of my headaches) and said, “One consequence of all this is that these muscles will always be tight.”
Check.
Next we talked about my atlas, the vertebrae that’s the focus of upper cervical care. Apparently the ideal situation is for the atlas to be titled at 8 to 10 degrees, but Dr. Chism said mine was at 3.4. “The problem is that this pinches nerves and–worse–cuts off blood supply to the brain. So you might feet tired all the time [check] or begin to experience neurological symptoms [check: tremors].” We talked about the BOTTOM UP theory, but Dr. Chism said, “For you, I can definitely say the problem is TOP DOWN. Your body cares more about getting blood to your brain than it does about whether or not your hip flexors are short.”
When I asked WHY most of my issues show up on the right side of my body, Dr. Chism directed me the right x-ray, in which you can see a definite “kink” in my neck. My reaction to this and our ENTIRE conversation was consistent tears. It was like my body was confirming, “What this man’s saying is true. THIS is what we’ve been living with for years, for decades.”
“The good news,” Dr. Chism said, “is that THIS is what I do. You’ve got a lot going on, but it hasn’t progressed to the point where it’s irreversible [as would be the case if my bone spurs had actually FUSED my vertebrae together].” Then he asked if I WANTED a treatment today, and I said YES, HELL, YES. From there he walked me through getting on my knees, lying my head turned one way on a small table (about the height of an ottoman), and relaxing as much as possible. Then he felt for my atlas, placed one hand karate-chop style along the base of my skull, and with the other (I think) applied swift pressure. Inside, I heard what sounded like the cracking of a large walnut.
“I heard that,” Dr. Chism said. “They probably heard it next door.”
Y’all, that was it. Five seconds and it was over. When I got up (slowly), I was a little dizzy, and Dr. Chism walked me to another waiting room where I lay down with my head and knees supported for about 25 minutes. “Your body and nervous system need time to adjust to what just happened,” he said. Well, adjust they did. For the first–I don’t know–five to ten minutes, I cried. Then I laughed a lot. The entire time I could feel my head, neck, shoulders, hips, and legs shifting ever so slightly, tightening up, then relaxing. When Dr. Chism came back, my hands were tingling. “All of that’s normal,” he said. “It’s just your system changing.”
When I first arrived at Dr. Chism’s today, he used a particular tool to measure–I think–how the nervous system in my neck responds. I’m still not super clear on what this tool does. What I do know is that when I got there today, the graph this tool produced looked like a YELLOW S. “We want that line to be straight,” said Dr. Chism. “That’s what we’re working toward.” Well, after my adjustment and “sink in” period, my line was still curved but much straighter, as indicated by the TEAL LINE below. “It’s almost perfect,” Dr. Chism said. “For the first treatment, it’s awesome. You’re going to do really well.”
Before I left, Dr. Chism said, “If you wake up feeling awful again tomorrow, don’t be discouraged. This isn’t a one-and-done thing, and it’s going to take time to get you where we want you. [My thought: That’s okay. You don’t learn to cha cha in a day either.] Also, if you wake up feeling fabulous tomorrow, don’t get too excited. This is A PROCESS. Either way, you might be sore because as your body makes corrections, it’ll be using muscles it’s not used to using.” Then he gave me a dos-and-don’ts pamphlet, his staff took my payment and made me an appointment for next week, and I went on my merry way.
This evening I’ve continued to feel slight changes in my body, something Dr. Chism said could happen over the next two days. And whereas I’m still aware of tightness here and pain there, overall things are MUCH looser and mobile than they’ve been in a long time. Y’all, I’ve been cracked, whipped around, poked, prodded, needled, cupped, electrically stimulated, medicated, and colon cleansed. I’ve spent thousands of dollars trying to feel better and–time and time again–been frustrated. (To be clear, some things have helped, albeit not solved, my problems.) But then today happened. As I sit here now my shoulders aren’t as tight, my rib cage doesn’t hurt as much, and it’s easier to sit and stand up straight.
And here’s something–I’m happier.
As one of my chiropractors often says, things can turn on a dime.
Y’all, I realize I almost never discuss my healthcare providers by name but have gone on and on about Dr. Chism. This is simply because I am so very grateful for having met him. I don’t think it happened by accident. I also realize this is a VERY long post, one of my longest. Alas, this is a BIG subject for me both physically and emotionally, and it has a LONG history. I also want others to be as clear as possible about the process should they choose to explore upper cervical care for themselves. (It’s recommended for headaches, migraines, IBS, acid reflux, fibromyalgia, asthma, arthritis, and chronic fatigue, among other things). Still, if you skimmed down to the last paragraph, I don’t blame you. The main thing I want you to know is that more and more I believe 1) there’s always hope, 2) there’s always help, and 3) even though it may not seem like it at times, heaven is listening. We’re not in this alone. God works in mysterious ways. (Along these lines, sometimes not having enough money to do the things you want to do–and think would help you–IS an answer to prayer.) So don’t you give up. Whatever you’re going through, hold on.
Your story’s not over.
Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)
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Just because you can’t see it, doesn’t mean it’s not true.
Three years ago this Christmas I was in New York City, and my friend Chad said, “You’ve GOT to see The Color Purple. I don’t care if you have to move heaven and earth to make it happen–go.” Well, I did. I bought a balcony ticket for–I don’t know–fifty or a hundred bucks and went all by my lonesome. In short, my life hasn’t been the same since. Within the first two minutes of the opening number, “God Works in Mysterious Ways,” I started crying, and I didn’t completely stop crying until the show was over. Simply put, it was a soul-grabbing, spirit-moving experience, the story of an abused teenager/woman and her journey of self-empowerment.
Last year I worked backstage for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz, and last month I worked backstage for the national tour of Beautiful: The Carole King Musical. I guess this is how you get your foot in the door, since earlier this week my friend who hired me to work for these musicals (in Alma) recommended me to work backstage for The Color Purple (in Fort Smith). And whereas the job was to start at eight in the morning and I hate mornings, of course I jumped at the chance.
Y’all, today I woke up at six-thirty. Before the sun was even up. And whereas I’m a dipped-and-dyed night owl and, therefore, hate to admit this–it wasn’t awful. Actually, more and more I’m finding that mornings are rather agreeable to me. Maybe this comes with getting older (damn it), but it’s like the world is quiet and I can think. I have more energy.
No kidding, I showed up to the theater EARLY.
WHAT has happened to me?
As I have for the past two shows, I was assigned to PROPS this morning. I will forever be amazed at how multiple semi-trailer trucks can be unloaded and loaded back up in a single day, as one fellow worker commented, “all for a two hour show.” (My thought was, Totally worth it.) Anyway, in order for all this to work seamlessly, there must be order, and the more experience I get backstage, the more I appreciate the structure of the whole thing. The carpenters work on the set, the electrician work on the lights and sound, the props crew set up (part of) the orchestra pit, lay down the Marley floor, and–duh–set out the props.
It takes a village.
Something that’s been on my mind lately and especially today is how much power one person has to either bless or stress someone else. For example, having worked backstage a couple of times before today, I’ve been around some really pleasant people (who smile and say thank you) and some really unpleasant people (who yell and scream and act entitled). Either way, incidentally, all the work gets done. It’s just a matter of whether it gets done with a good attitude or a bad attitude. More and more, I see this as a choice, not just how I behave, but also how I respond to someone else’s behavior. Because I control whether I frown or smile. I can’t control how anyone else looks at me or treats me, but I can control that; I can control my reaction. Even when I get stuck with a sourpuss supervisor, I think, Am I going to make this day a good one or not?
Fortunately, my supervisor today, Whitney, was anything but a sourpuss. Rather, she was quite delightful. Y’all, it doesn’t take much. She said, “How are you?” She said, “Where are you from?” She literally called us friends. What’s more, she and the other folks on our crew made jokes. One guy noted that one of the boxes we unloaded said–I think–Magnum Ultra. He said, “That’s my stripper name.” We all tossed around comments like this one all morning. Seriously, a light-hearted attitude makes all the difference. I thought, I’m glad I’m here. I’m glad I got up early.
Now it’s four in the afternoon, and I’m at a coffee shop. At one all of us locals got cut for the afternoon, so I met my parents for lunch and then came here. Shortly I plan to meet a friend for dinner, and then we’ll see the show. After that, I’ll return backstage to work load out until–I don’t know–midnight or after. So, this is a long day.
But this is a good day.
Our days here are limited.
In “God Works in Mysterious Ways,” which is set in a hymn-singing, gospel-believing church, there’s a lyric that goes, Hallelujah! Today’s the day God has made. You don’t believe in God? That’s fine. My point is that today is special and unique. Never again will the sun shine quite the same way, and never again will you have THIS chance to smile, THIS opportunity to be kind to those around you. As one mystic has pointed out, THIS day will never come again. More and more I realize that today is a gift–and that my days here are limited. One day I’ll wake up, either early or late, and I’ll never wake up again. At least on this earth, at least in this body. So often I judge my life for not being “bigger,” “better,” but the truth is that this kind of thinking disconnects me from the magic of this present moment–the magic of a stranger’s kindness or laughter, the magic of lunch with my parents, the magic of the color purple.
After posting yesterday’s blog, last night I went two-stepping. Talk about fun. There was a live band and everything. Today Facebook reminded me with a video that I was at this same venue, for the first time ever, a year ago. And whereas due to my knee injury and subsequent surgery this last December my dancing last night wasn’t what it was back then, I was still there, moving. I think this is important to remember, that just because you slow down doesn’t mean you have to quit. Just because your body changes doesn’t mean you have to stop doing the things you love.
Recently I told my therapist that a theme for me lately has been slowing down, chilling the eff out. My therapist was all for this and reminded me of one of her favorite sayings–don’t just do something, sit there. “Inaction is as powerful as action,” she said. “There are times when we simply need to rest and let things synthesize.” Nature knows this. Currently it’s fall, and the trees are shedding their leaves. For months they will appear to do nothing. However, come spring, look out, boy, they’ll be filled with life.
Last week I mentioned that you really don’t know what’s happening in terms of healing whenever your body’s sleeping. Along these lines, just because you can’t see signs of growth in nature during the fall and winter, doesn’t mean growth isn’t happening, and just because you’re not consciously DOING something doesn’t mean your subconscious isn’t. This idea has been on my mind a lot lately, that there’s more we don’t know than there is we do. We pray to the heavens and ask for help and then get upset when we don’t see immediate answers. But hasn’t it been your experience that God works in mysterious ways? For all you know, your answer could be being lined up for you, halfway around the world for that matter. Again, just because you can’t see something (an answer) doesn’t mean it’s not there or in the works.
The gods like surprises.
This afternoon I went out with a friend of mine for a late lunch, and we talked about financial concerns, which we both have, and job security, which neither of us have. Last night at the dance I told another friend, “I’m really trying to settle into this idea of abundance, not in the sense that I have to be flush with cash in every moment, but rather in the sense that the universe hasn’t forgotten about me and will always provide.” Well, tonight my friend and I got up to pay the bill, and the new girl at the register couldn’t find our ticket in the system. I don’t know about my friend, but I was thinking, Come on, sister, get your act together. I have to pee. The next thing I knew, the manager was there, and get this shit. She said, “Your ticket isn’t in the system because it’s already been paid for.”
My friend and I couldn’t figure this out. Neither of us knew anyone else in the restaurant. And yet someone picked up our tab. Either that, or there was a glitch in the system. Either way, we agreed, the universe did us a solid. And whereas normally when the universe picks up my tab my first thought is–That’s awesome, but what about the rest of my bills?–tonight I was simply grateful. Whenever I get in a tizzy about money, my therapist asks me, “Do you have money in your pocket, even five dollars? Do you have a roof over your head and gas in your car?”
“Yes,” I always reply.
“Then you’re being provided for,” she says. “By the majority of the world’s standards, you’re rich.”
More and more, I’m encouraged to bring the idea of abundance home to today. Like, today I was able to slow down, to rest. Today I ate a delicious meal I didn’t pay for. Today I enjoyed the company of a dear friend, absent any disagreement or strife. Today I was safe, supported, and encouraged.
Yes, today I experienced abundance.
Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)
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Things are only important because we think they are.
Yesterday I was supposed to be a dance gigolo, but the gig got cancelled. And whereas a part of me was like, Crap, there goes that money, most of me was like, Something else will come along. Because of this incident, I’ve thought a lot today about two things I claim to believe–1) the idea that things happen for a reason and 2) the idea of divine timing, that everything happens when it’s supposed to. Because both these ideas are easy to profess but harder to really animate when the rubber hits the road. Like, whenever I’m counting on a certain amount of income and a client says, “Let’s forget about it,” my faith in “God knows what he’s doing” starts to falter.
As if God’s primary concern were my bank account.
Another thing I claim to believe is that God works in mysterious ways. To me this means that–really–none of us know why anything happens or doesn’t happen. In terms of my plans changing last night, it could be that had I driven out of town, I would have hit a deer (or worse). Or I could have had such a miserable time that the money wouldn’t have been worth it. (As it was, I had a delightful evening.) Caroline Myss says that when you pray for things, you don’t get to tell God how to answer you. Well, I’ve asked for a body that feels as good as possible as well as for healthy relationships, and it’s possible my going out of town last night would have been out of alignment with those requests.
This must be a lesson the universe really wants me to get, since this afternoon I drove all the way to Fort Smith for an appointment only to find out that it too was cancelled. (The person whom I was meeting had sent me a message that they were sick, but I didn’t get it because my phone network was down.) Anyway, it was forty-five minutes of my day that felt completely wasted and unproductive. Again, part of me was like, This blows. But most of me was like, We are not going to complain. We’re alive and well and have been given an opportunity to relax–to NOT be productive. We are going to be grateful. And it was that simple. I wouldn’t let myself throw a fit.
My advice–don’t let yourself throw a fit.
Tonight I went to a swing dance at the studio where I tore my ACL this last December. This was my first time back since the accident. When I was getting ready I actually thought about wearing the same (slightly oversized) shoes I was wearing when the accident happened, like, I’ll show you, slippery floor, but decided against it. Instead, I wore shoes that hug my feet and have stickier bottoms. And guess what? I didn’t hurt myself.
Of course, I didn’t attempt to jump over anyone’s head either.
Y’all, dancing tonight was the best thing. I saw and danced with several people I know and, in the process, got in some serious cardio. By the time the night was over, I was sopping wet.
Here’s a video (taken by my friend Sydnie) of my friend Renee and me Lindy Hopping to Caro Emerald’s Completely.
Wow. So much has happened since the last time I was dancing on that floor. I remember the night of the accident. I couldn’t get out the front doors by myself. Someone had to support me. There are times when I get frustrated because my knee and I can’t do everything we used to, but–really–it’s a miracle that we’re dancing at all. Also, I keep calling it an accident, but another idea I claim to believe is that there are no accidents. In other words, at least in my best moments, I believe that my injuring my leg, on some level, needed (knee-dead) to happen. I can’t say why–that’s above my pay grade–but I do know the whole experience has given me more compassion, patience, and understanding for both myself and others, and that’s enough for me.
The way I see it, if you say you believe something, at some point you’ve got to start acting like it. “Acting like it,” indeed, is an accurate way of describing what you’ll be doing at first. That is, until you get the hang of it, you won’t feel patient or understanding when someone cancels on you, or when something terrible happens. My therapist says, “Fake it until you make it.” Now, I don’t know that any of us ever “make it.” I doubt it will ever become fun for life to throw you a curve ball. But I do think it gets easier to accept what is (gracefully) if you can slow down and remind yourself that even frustrating or “terrible” things can contribute to your growth.
In an ongoing effort to heal my headaches and a number of other physical issues, this morning I saw an acupuncturist. Out of the blue, three years ago this person called me to remind me of my appointment at their office. But I hadn’t made an appointment. Rather, they’d dialed someone else’s phone number incorrectly and called me instead. Shit happens. Still, two weeks ago when I decided I wanted to give acupuncture a whirl, the name of this person popped into my brain. Maybe they’re the one I need to see, I thought. You know, because God works in mysterious ways.
As for my actual appointment today, it went well. First we discussed my issues, then the lady had me lie face down while she inserted several needles into my shoulders, neck, and ribcage. “You’re really inflamed,” she said. Then she put me under an infrared heat lamp (to help with the inflammation) and left the room. Ten minutes later she returned, removed the needles and the lamp, and replaced them with cups. Y’all, if you don’t know, cups are used for a weird process called cupping in which a flame is used to remove oxygen from glass cups. This creates a sucking action, at which point the cups are stuck to your skin. The idea is that the suction pulls against your skin and fascia and helps break up adhesions.
Here are the results from my back.
The lady said that healthy tissue will turn out pink. In the photo above, reference the few (faded) circles closest to the right of my spin. Not-so-healthy tissue, however, will turn dark red or purple. Reference the spots by my right shoulder, the one that’s been giving me hell for over six months now.
After removing the cups from my back, the lady had me turn over. Then we repeated the whole ordeal–needles first with infrared lamp, then cups–on the front of my body. “I did some stuff for your hurting ankle as well as for digestion,” she said, since these were two of my complaints. When the front side of me was done, we discussed an herbal formula for my upset stomach, which she said could also help with my tight shoulders. “In Chinese medicine both things are related to liver chi [energy] stagnation,” she said. “The associated or blocked emotions are frustration and anger.”
“I feel that,” I said, but meant I FEEL THAT!
Then she added, “You may see sufficient results from the acupuncture and cupping, but the herbs could help get that energy moving too.”
“How much is a month’s supply of pills?” I asked.
“Thirty bucks,” she said.
“Hand ’em over.”
As for the results from the treatments I had done today, I’ve actually felt a difference. While on the table I could feel an increase in energy (blood flow?) down my right art. I could also feel my shoulders and neck relax. Not completely, but notably. Enough improvement to try the whole thing again. The rest of the day I’ve felt less constricted. I started the herbs tonight. We’ll see what happens.
I’m hopeful.
Today, it seems, is a day for hoping. Recently I set an intention (goal) of healing my headaches and living in a pain-free body, and whereas the universe hasn’t hand-delivered a letter to me saying, “Here’s the answer you’ve been looking for,” a number of interesting options have been brought to my attention. For one, acupuncture. For another, I randomly watched a video online that mentioned a specific book about posture, which I downloaded and started reading this weekend. I’ll say more about it later, but it mentions the importance of myofascial release, something I’ve been fascinated by for a while now. However, the book stresses releasing tension in your body in a certain order. Basically, the lower half first. Because that’s where most of our problems start (because we sit all the time, which tightens our hip flexors and causes hell). Anyway, I’ve started going through some of the release techniques.
Since I had surgery to repair my ACL over seven months ago, the inside of my left knee (my lower adductor) has been tight. Like, it’s difficult for me to sit on the floor with my legs crossed or in butterfly position because my left leg, by my knee, hurts so bad. When I asked my massage therapist and my physical therapist about it, they both suggested stretching. Well, the book I’m reading listed a myofascial release technique for the exact spot that’s been troubling me, so I did it tonight. The picture at the top of tonight’s blog shows me trying it, but basically you sit on the floor with both legs bent mermaid style and use the elbow opposite your lower adductor to apply pressure wherever there’s tenderness.
Y’all, at first this HURT like nobody’s business. However, and this is the point, after a few minutes of steady pressure, the pain went away. This means the fascia broke up or relaxed. And just like that–after months of consistent tension and pain, it was–I don’t know–eighty-percent better. No stretching required.
Obviously, all my problems haven’t been solved in one night. But I do feel like significant strides have been made today. Hell, tonight at Walmart I nearly jumped out of my moving vehicle and confronted a total stranger I saw spanking their child a hundred feet away (I hate spanking), so, yeah, I think my liver chi is moving. But I digress. My encouragement, both for myself and you, is to hang in there. Even longstanding problems can be solved. Pain can hang around for months, years, then begin to break up or dissipate in an afternoon. So keep working at it. Keep trying new things. As Wilson Phillips says, hold on for one more day.
Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)
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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 healing.
