Last night after finally posting the blog at 3:30 in the morning I figured I’d fall right to sleep. Well, wouldn’t you know it, I got a burst of energy and was up until 5:30, scrolling on my phone, thinking, thinking, thinking, and talking to Jesus. You know, because he’s always awake. Anyway, I thought, Maybe I’m healing, maybe my sinus infection is going away. But damn if I didn’t wake up this morning still hacking and coughing. This being said, I have had more pep in my step today and haven’t thought about being sick nonstop. So who knows what’s happening?
Jesus, that’s who.
Six weeks ago I wrote about my first upper cervical care treatment, upper cervical care being concerned with your atlas, the topmost vertebrae in your spinal column. (Why be worried about your atlas, Marcus?) Because your brainstem, which is like Command Central for your body, runs THROUGH your atlas and can be negatively impacted if your atlas is misaligned. Make a circle with your thumb and index finger and think about running a straw or water hose through it. Then think about what would happen if you tilted your finger circle in such a way that it clamped down or put pressure on the straw or water hose. What would you have?
Problems, that’s what. Less “flow.”
All this to say that when my doctor took x-rays of my neck back in November (pictured below on the left), my atlas was tilted way wrong. “We want it to be at an angle of 8 to 10 degrees,” he said, “and yours is at 3.4. Additionally, we’d like your neck to be curved like a banana, but yours is straight as a board.”
“Yeah, it looks like a cucumber,” I said.
Anyway, for the last six weeks I’ve been being treated (or not treated if my doctor determines that my correction has “held”) once a week. Last week we took x-rays to see how I’m improving (or if I am), and today–today!–I found out the results (pictured below on the right). Y’all, in a nutshell, they were nothing short of miraculous. These were my doctor’s words, not mine. First, my atlas is now sitting at an angle of 10.5, almost perfect. Second, my cucumber neck looks more like a banana. “It’s almost textbook,” my doctor said. “I’d like to see your top curve just a bit more, but your bottom is superior. [I’ve been told that before, I thought.] But even if we don’t get any more improvement–and we should–I’m THRILLED with where you are.”
I just stood there with my mouth open, amazed, at the same time thinking about my sinus infection.
“To come this far in this short of time really is phenomenal,” he said. “It means your body is responding really well.”
My doctor said that because your nervous system directly influences or controls your immune system, it’s possible that somewhere down the line my body will be able to fight off sinus infections on its own. “Not that you’ll never get one,” he said, “but instead of it lasting a month, maybe it’ll only last a few days. Because when your nervous system is operating properly, it should be able to ADAPT [to fight off bacteria, etc.].” Then he added, “It’s just going to take some time to get there. Your brainstem has been under pressure for a long time, and it has a lot of repair work to do. But hang in there. Usually people start seeing really wonderful results around the three or four month mark.”
Okay, I thought. Hang in there, Marcus. We have a lot of repairing to do.
The four month mark, that’ll be about the time I’m wrapping up this blog project. Tonight’s blog is #1015 in a row, and that means that after tonight I only have 80 more posts to go, 1095 days being three solid years. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately–THE END. And whereas part of me can’t wait to get there–like, I did it, now let’s drink a beer and take a nap–another part me of me, I know, will miss this. Because this is where I’ve found myself and where I continue to find myself. This is where I’ve learned to like me, my life, and life in general MORE. I guess it feels like these sweet moments are running out, and I’d just like to hold on a little longer.
Getting back to upper cervical care, even though I’ve ALREADY experienced such great results with it (my headaches are WAY better, my posture’s improved, my shoulder pain is all but gone), it still scares me. I think, What if I get to the three or four month mark and something still hasn’t healed? Ugh. We’re so programed to think, What if something goes WRONG? And yet more and more I’m learning to think, What if something goes right? What if I experience a(nother) miracle? What if THE END of the blog is THE BEGINNING of something ELSE that’s wonderful? I think of that book by Jules Verne and tell myself, Wait a minute. A lot can happen in 80 days. You can go around the world.
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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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.
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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You've really got to believe in yourself and what you're doing. Again, it comes down to integrity and making something solid of yourself, something that's so well-built on the inside that it can handle any storm.
Of course, my body didn’t care. We lay in bed, wide awake and tossing and turning, until five. Not that I’m complaining. I’d rather be sleep deprived than sinus sick any day. And whereas it’s a bit frustrating to have to deal with sinus junk at all, my life now sure beats my life five years ago. Hell, twenty years ago. For decades I got several sinus infections a year, each infection lasting at least a week. I went to doctors. I took (so many) antibiotics and steroids. I was out time and money. Nothing really helped. Now what used to take a week or more to go away disappears in as little as half a day, without doctors, without drugs. And all for the cost of what? Yesterday I spent six dollars on a bottle of kimchi (which contains L. sakei). All this to say that I’m extremely grateful. This morning I woke up actually looking forward to going to work to paint. I was just happy to be alive and well.
Now, could I wake up sick tomorrow? Of course. None of us are guaranteed a thing.
I guess tonight’s blog is about gratitude, my consciously acknowledging that some things in my life are healing. My sinuses, for one. For another, my headaches. For months (years) I was getting them weekly, sometimes several times a week. But between going to my new chiropractor and (I think) acupuncture and cupping, I haven’t had a full-blown headache in three weeks. Is all my neck tension gone? No, not be any means. But I’m learning that things don’t have to be perfect to be better than the used to be. To be heading in the right direction.
Another thing that’s improved–just in case you wanted to know–is my body odor. Ugh. Ever since I took a ton of antibiotics before my sinus surgery in 2017, my arm pits (and other pits) have off-and-on stunk. Like gag-a-maggot gross. I can’t tell you what a drag this has been. I love dancing, but when I dance, I sweat. And when I sweat, I stink. No one has ever made a big deal about it, but I’ve been super self-conscious about being close to anyone. In the last almost three years, I’ve tried everything–Yodora deodorant cream (which contains borax), white vinegar, baking soda, coconut oil, magnesium and zinc supplements, chlorophyl supplements. The list goes on. Well, I’d pretty much given up. I thought, Maybe this is just the way I smell.
Then God threw me a bone.
What I mean is that a few weeks ago I was reading a book about I don’t even remember what, and that book mentioned another book about the importance of magnesium. Well, I started reading that book, and while doing some Googling about something it said, I ran across an article that said Milk of Magnesia was fabulous for stinky arm pits, I guess because the magnesium keeps the bacteria on your skin (that are responsible for how you smell) in check. No kidding. Look it up. Dr. Oz even did a program about it. Anyway, I bought a bottle (for five bucks), gave it a shot, and it worked like a charm. That first day I worked outside in one-hundred-degree weather and didn’t smell a thing. Now, if I don’t reapply every day (or if I don’t shower), I smell something. Again, things aren’t perfect.
But things are so much better.
A lot of times when I fantasize about healing anything in my life, I imagine something grand like an angel or miracle swooping down and fixing things in an instant. Bippity boppity boo. You know, like all of a sudden a problem is gone and gone forever. Alas, this doesn’t seem to be the way the universe operates. Do miracles happen? You’re damn right they do. And whereas I’m convinced the insta-fix can and does occur, I’m also convinced that more often than not the miracles we experience are a combination of work on our part and grace from above. For instance, I spent hours upon hours scouring the internet for sinus infection home remedies (and trying none too few of them) before coming across one that worked. The same with my headaches, the same with my smelly pits. I consulted and questioned doctors, healers. I spent a lot of money.
Did these actions on my part guarantee my improvements? Absolutely not. That’s where grace comes in. At the same time, I’m not sure the grace of healing would have come had I just stayed at home and done nothing. When was the last time someone magically showed up on your doorstep with the answer to your problem? Probably never. You’ve gotta do your part. So it’s a combination, a paradox of action and inaction. This dance between accepting what is (I’m sick, I hurt, I stink) and believing the answers you’ve been waiting on for years can show up in the blink of an eye.
Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)
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Your life is a mystery. But you can relax. It’s not your job to solve it.
Currently I’m out-of-town. This morning, again, I woke up with a sinus infection. Color me not impressed. Oh well. This isn’t my first sinus infection rodeo, so I’ll continue to try various home remedies until something works. Historically, something has always worked, so fingers crossed. In the meantime, I’m taking it easy. This afternoon I finished reading a book about headaches that said headache sufferers are usually perfectionists and people pleasers. Check and check. These are things I’ve been working on–loosening up on myself, not giving a fuck what other people think.
Last night, Saturday, I attended the wedding of the couple I’ve been teaching the Dirty Dancing routine to. Y’all, this has been a journey. We had our final practice Friday night, and parts of it were still rough. A few times they successfully completed the big lift at the end of the dance, but a few times they didn’t. So yesterday I was a nervous wreck. My friend Matt attended the wedding with me, and I told him, “I honestly have no idea how this is going to go.” Eventually, the big moment came. After the ceremony happened and the room was flipped for the ceremony, the couple was announced and made their way to dance floor. First they did a traditional (high school prom style) first dance, then the music from Dirty Dancing started.
As their friends and family began cheering, the couple proceeded through their routine. Was it perfect? No. They weren’t always on beat. But was it fun to watch, enjoyable for both them and (I’m assuming) everyone in the room? Yes.
Absolutely.
Just before the big lift moment, something happened I didn’t know was going to. The groom’s best man and groomsmen, seven guys altogether, made their way to the floor and crouched down behind the groom in order to catch the bride if the lift didn’t go well. Later the groom told me, “I wanted her to feel safe and have extra confidence when jumping.” Perfect, I thought. It really was the cutest thing. And the best part? She didn’t even need the extra support. The couple totally nailed the lift, better than they ever have before. Phew. Talk about a cause for celebration.
Personally, I couldn’t have been prouder. As for the couple–and yes, I’m about to go there–they had the time of their lives.
Matt said he’s seen videos online of couples doing that lift who really screwed it up–brides who fell into their own wedding cakes and shit like that. Talk about embarrassing. So after “my” couple hit their mark, the rest of the evening was a breeze for me. Matt and I sat with some friends of mine from Fort Smith, and we laughed, laughed, laughed. Then when the dance floor was opened to the general public, Matt and I cut a rug to several west coast swing songs. This completely made my night, especially since this was my first time dancing, really dancing, since my knee surgery six months ago. Even better? My knee performed beautifully and isn’t in any pain today.
Woot.
As for the rest of today, I plan to go swing dancing tonight. Granted, I could drive back home and try to take care of my sinuses, but they aren’t the worst ever, and dancing is a real stress reliever for me. I could use this relief. I think about my students last night and how, even though their routine wasn’t perfect, they had so much fun and experienced so much joy. This is what I want for my life. Less pressure, more fun. Less perfection, more joy.
Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)
"We were made to love without conditions. That's the packaging we were sent with."
Well gross. I’m out-of-town for the wedding of some dance students and woke up sick morning. Sinus crap. I’ve been fighting it all week. I thought I was on top of it, but it appears to be on top of me. I hate that. Anyway, it’s 11:30 in the morning, and despite the fact that I haven’t left the place where I’m staying or done anything today, I’m blogging now because–come hell or high water–I’m attending that wedding this evening and don’t want to force my body to stay up late in order to blog. This is what I’ve realized, that even though I can’t immediately solve my sinus infection problem, I can do little things to support my body and decrease how much we suffer from it.
Down with suffering.
I said I haven’t done anything today, but that’s not exactly true. That’s never exactly true. Even if you lie in bed and snore all day, that’s SOMETHING. Well, after I got up an hour and a half ago, I ate breakfast (a protein bar and fruit), then read about thirty pages in a book I recently started about headaches. Today I learned that tension headaches (which I have) can be triggered by stress, anxiety (defined as fear without an object), and depression, as well as certain foods (often nitrate-containing) or liquids (alcohol, caffeine, or the withdrawal of caffeine).
The book said that for those of us who experience tension headaches it’s important to remove triggers. Granted, if your job is stressful, you may not be able to remove your job (or punch your boss in the face), but you can work at how you respond to your job or boss. For example, you could go for a walk or try meditation. Serenity now! For Type A personalities, the book suggested scheduling in time to relax. Like, make yourself shut off your phone, lie down, and stare at the ceiling fan. Or listen to the birds chirping. Or pet your dog or cat.
Another suggestion was to tense your major muscle groups (biceps, calves, quads, butt, back, shoulders, and neck) one-by-one and then relax them. The idea being that–if you do this enough–they get the message that if and when they get tense, the next thing they should do is relax. This theory made sense to me, so I tried it. (I let go a little. It was nice.) Once I heard someone say that just like you speak English (or whatever), your muscles speak a language too, a language they’ve been taught. So if your body is constantly tensed and stressed and you want it to behave or feel differently, you have to teach it how. You have to teach it a new language. You have to take time to say, Sweetheart, there’s nothing to worry about. You can let your guard down now.
I’m working on all of this, although it’s often overwhelming to think about and do when I’m sick. That is, when I feel like crap from a sinus infection AND have a headache (or even just tight muscles), I want to throw in the towel. More than that, I want to yell and scream at my body, Get yourself together. I get so impatient with myself. And yet when I don’t feel well, this is exactly the time that patience for myself is needed–because my body is clearly communicating that it’s had enough of the push, push, pushing, and the go, go, going. It’s clearly saying, We could use a little help here. We could use a little understanding.
Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)
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Suddenly the sun breaks through the clouds. A dove appears--the storm is over.
This morning I woke up with a screaming headache and tried every trick I know (mindfulness, acceptance, cursing) to get it to go away. Alas, nothing helped, so I took drugs, which sort of helped. Yesterday I saw my primary care physician, and she suggested a few things–muscle relaxers, a TENS unit, botox injections, learning not to carry my stress in my shoulders. “I’m for anything that will help,” I said. “I’m done with being in constant pain.” So after breakfast today I made some calls and ended up at a local pharmacy that had a TENS unit and–even better–could bill my insurance for it. And whereas it took thirty minutes for everything to happen, I got the unit, and it didn’t cost me a thing.
Praise the lord.
Thirty minutes. That’s my theme today. This afternoon I was supposed to teach an hour-long dance lesson, but when I got to the studio space, I realized I’d forgotten my key. Anyway, my student and I came up with an alternate location, but, because they had to get back to work, we could only do a thirty-minute session. Oh well.
A lot can happen in thirty minutes.
That’s what I’m hoping now, that I can pound out an entire blog in thirty minutes, since I have dinner plans soon and would really like to enjoy the evening without having the thought of writing on my mind. Before my dance lesson today I started reading a book about headaches and learned that migraines are often linked to perfectionist personalities. You know the type–go, go, go–nothing is every good enough. And whereas I don’t have migraines, I get it, that feeling of constant stress. Hell, with this blog alone, I’ve pushed, pushed, pushed myself to write when tired or headachey so many times it’s not even funny. So I’m trying to give myself a break (instead of a breakdown). I’m doing everything I can to let up on myself, to take the pressure off both in my inner and outer worlds.
I’ll say it again.
I’m doing the best I can.
My therapist says she works with a lot of business owners/professionals–the driven kind–and that they almost all carry tension and pain in their bodies. “Especially the ones who believe in scarcity,” she says. I think this is fascinating, the way the body can and does mirror the mind. I definitely get the scarcity thing. It’s like there’s this desperation, this grasping. Not just with money, but with finding answers to health problems. My therapist refers to this desperation (nothing every works) as “a profound hopelessness.” That’s how my headaches and other health challenges always feel–hopeless. But–the good news is–I really do think this situation is getting better for me. Last week I set an intention to heal my headaches, to find an answer. And get this shit. In a week’s time, I’ve had three different people (two randomly and unsolicited) tell me about specific pillows they use that have helped their necks. Then I saw my doctor, and she was FULL of suggestions. I got the TENS unit.
The phrase that keeps coming to my mind today is “good help is good hope.” That is, today I’ve been encouraged that I’m not alone, “all is not lost,” and that, although I’ve explored many different options to relieve the tension in my life, there are others yet to explore. Also I’m encouraged that a lot can happen in a short amount of time (a lot can happen in thirty minutes), that a problem can hang around for years and go away in weeks, months.
Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)
"I believe we're all courageous, and I believe that no one is alone."
It’s ten at night, and I have a headache. A few hours ago I took a nap hoping it would go away, but it didn’t. Instead, it got worse. I hate that–and the fact that whenever I don’t feel well I scare the shit out of myself imagining what could be wrong. Once I had a boyfriend who gave me a diagnostic health book that always gave the worst case scenario as the answer to any given problem. Like, oh, your stomach’s upset? It’s cancer. Or, your foot hurts? It’s gangrene. And whereas I thought the gift was cute, I threw it away after we broke up. First, I didn’t need the reminder. Second, no hypochondriac with a headache should ever allow themselves daily access to such a book.
Or the internet.
This afternoon I saw my friend Bekah, who cuts my hair. (I went for a trim.) When we talked about my recent knee surgery, Bekah said that she’s had three–on the same knee–then added, “Welcome to the club of I Can’t Believe This Is My Fucking Life.” Is that great or what? I told her it would be my quote of the day. But seriously, I’m glad to know there’s a club. I’ve always wanted to be in one. With any luck, next I’ll find out we have regularly scheduled pancake breakfasts (in the afternoon, of course) or maybe even a secret handshake.
Pancakes and a secret handshake would be the best!
I don’t know what to blog about today. Getting my hair cut was my “big thing” for the day, other than going to two health food stores in search of non-ultra-pasteurized milk. And whereas the first one said they didn’t have it but could special order it, or I could be one of those people and get raw milk from a local farm (“Their number is on that bulletin board,” the lady said, “but you’ll have to bring my own container”), the second one did. Thank God, after my experience at the first store, I was really starting to worry that I’d have to turn my life upside down to get a half-gallon of non-ultra-pasteurized milk. Instead, I just had to turn my wallet upside down. It cost $6.39!
That’s nearly $13.00 a gallon.
This super expensive magic milk, which as I understand it is simply–milk, is for a fermenting project one of my friends is helping me with tomorrow. We’re going to make our own kefir. Well, we’re going to make my own kefir, since my friend already has theirs. That’s apparently the deal, in order to make your own, you first have to be given a starter kit from someone else who already has one (or buy it on the internet). Anyway, I’ll know more about the whole process tomorrow. Also, if you have no idea what the hell I’m talking about, kefir is a fermented dairy product similar to yogurt except it’s runnier. That is, you can drink it. I’m interested in it because it’s supposed to be high in probiotics, and everyone who’s paranoid about their health is into probiotics. Granted, you can buy it at the grocery store (and I often do), but supposedly making your own is cheaper, even after you pay all that money for milk that obviously comes from cows with golden udders.
Now it’s eleven, and I’d like to end this so I can go to the gym and do physical therapy. Recently I started a stretching routine (that a friend told me about and is on public television) in addition to physical therapy, so I’m spending a good part of my day counting repetitions. Thankfully, as a dance instructor, I have no problem with this. At least until I get to eight. Anyway, I’m doing both the stretching routine and the kefir thing tomorrow because I’m hoping they’ll help me, the stretching with my headaches, the kefir with my stomach. And whereas I’ve been doing the stretching for two whole days (!) and my head still hurts, I’m telling myself that some things take time. (That’s a joke–everything takes time.) But really, so often I want to ditch good habits when I don’t see immediate results rather than stick with them and be patient.
Maybe you’ve felt this way before.
Personally, I’ve felt like giving up more times that I can count. I think, I’ve exhausted every option, and nothing is working. But then–eventually–I remember the universe is large and no, I haven’t exhausted every option. And because there’s something in me that refuses to give up, I take a deep breath and try again. Surely something will work. There’s that verse in the Bible about the person who had their prayer answered simply because they were so damn persistent, because they didn’t quit asking. The squeaky wheel gets God’s grease or whatever. Anyway, maybe you can’t believe this is your fucking life, but I think there’s hope for whatever it is you’re going through, so keep trying. And even if nothing works, I definitely know a club you can join.
Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)
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Beautiful isn’t something that comes in a particular package. Beautiful is simply being yourself.
