Here’s to You (Blog #1095)

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Tonight’s blog is #1095 in a row and is my next to last. I’m smiling in tonight’s photo, but I’m not happy. Or at least if I am I’m a lot of other things too–sad, overwhelmed, confused, cranky. And tired. I’m tired. Of putting so much time and attention into this project. Of staying up way too late to work on it. Even when I’ve been sick. Of trying to find the right words. Of reading everything I’ve written at least four times a night in order to make sure it’s good enough, the whole time imagining it’s not. Most of all, I’m tired of doing it all alone. Of always being the strong one.

Granted, there’s a part of me that knows I’m not alone in all this. For the last six years I’ve been supported professionally by a kickass therapist, a woman who’s not only been my solid rock but has also taken my calls at all hours of the day and night. Likewise, a number of other professionals have been there for me throughout my healing process these last three years, giving me good information and even holding me while I’ve cried. Plus, I’ve had the support of my family and friends. The especially lovely part about this being that although most of them haven’t (I imagine) fully understood my journey or chosen to walk a similar path, they have nonetheless cheered me on.

My original thought for tonight’s blog was to address my readers, anyone who’s read this blog on a regular basis or has happened to peruse it even once. However, writing the entire blog “to you,” someone I can’t see right now, seems odd. Forced, I guess, because I’m so used to writing “to me.” Indeed, although over the last three years I’ve often said things like–dear reader, you, we, and us–I’ve primarily considered these ways to address myself. Not because I have multiple personalities, but because from the beginning this blog has been a form of self-therapy. Meaning that it’s been my way to work myself into a better place, so any advice I’ve given has been first and foremost for me. If it’s helped others, good. But what I know for certain is that it’s helped me.

More and more, this is enough.

No one else can save you.

Along these lines, anyone who sits down at a keyboard by themselves every day for three years could easily drive himself crazy–if he thinks he’s doing it for someone else, if he’s looking for a certain response or reception, or if he doesn’t find the work satisfying in and of itself. Thankfully, although in the beginning I imagined a different reception than the one I got, I’m satisfied now. Not because of what someone else has said or not said about this work, but because it’s been my salvation. Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling. Or with a keyboard and a box of Kleenex. Whatever it takes. But this is what I’ve discovered. Others can support you, but no one else can save you. That’s your job. Your hard work has your name on it for a reason.

This sucks, I know.

Getting back to addressing my readers, I’d be remiss if I weren’t absolutely clear. I deeply appreciate anyone and everyone who’s spent even five minutes of their time reading my work, my inner world. Because no one owes me their time or attention. No one. If I’ve received it, whether I knew about it or not, it’s been a gift. A gift that humbles me and, no matter how much I try, one I really can’t wrap my head around. Perhaps because I’m so often hard on myself and think nothing is ever good enough, I especially don’t understand, and therefore can’t fully appreciate, the gift I’ve been given by those of you who’ve read–oh my gosh–every single post. Truly, I’m dumbfounded and speechless. As someone who often thinks that others don’t notice him or that his work isn’t impactful, you strongly encourage me to think and believe otherwise.

Thank you.

As a words-of-affirmation person, I’m particularly grateful to those of you who’ve liked, shared, or commented on my posts, as well as those of you who’ve sent private messages or emails over the last few years to tell me specifically how you’ve been encouraged by my journey and/or my words. A few names and faces come to mind, and I can’t tell you what a heartening thing it’s been to receive your kindness at the most random times and places. Truly, you’ve lifted me up, and I’ve felt your love across the miles. So please know how powerful you are. Your voice–yes, your voice–can offer someone hope, give them strength to keep going, and turn their life around for the better.

My therapist says that when she was growing up she was constantly told by her family, “Everything you touch turns to shit.” Well, 1) I strongly disagree, and my life is proof to the contrary, and 2) clearly even the people who know us the best are often wrong about us. Growing up, I heard, “Marcus, if you had a brain you’d be dangerous.” And whereas that used to bother me, now as an adult, I know it was just someone else’s shit. Still, messages like these get engrained, and I’ve spent a lot of time over the years thinking I was a fuck up, not good enough. All this to say that just as positive messages can have an impact on someone’s life, so can negative ones. So, again, you’re powerful.

Use your power wisely.

And don’t let anyone else tell you you’re anything less than a walking miracle.

You’re more supported than you know.

Coming full circle, at the beginning of tonight’s blog I said I was feeling all the feelings, especially tired. In today’s world, I imagine you’re tired too. In addition to the global pandemic (as if that weren’t enough), I know many of my dear friends and family are fighting their own health battles, watching their loved ones fight theirs, or both. Or just going through hell on a unicycle, slowly. (Please keep going.) And whereas one person can never know exactly what another is dealing with, as much as I can, I understand. I understand being exhausted, I understand wanting to give up, and I understand believing that you’ve tried everything but nothing works, damn it. Alas, as far as I can tell, The Path will always wear you out, kick your ass, and, at some point, make you cry uncle. Put your foot upon it anyway. Not only will you be better for it, but we need you on the other side of it. What’s more, you’re stronger than you think, are more supported than you know, and are deeply loved even when you don’t feel it.

So take heart. Many people, myself included, are cheering you on.

Here’s to you.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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The deepest waters are the only ones capable of carrying you home.

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These Hundreds of Thousands of Words (Blog #1094)

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Phew. All day I’ve been tired, sad. And whereas I could blame lack of sleep and a number of other things, the fact is I’ve already begun to grieve the loss of this blog. Including tonight, I only have three more posts to go. I don’t know. It’s weird. Just like when a person dies you go through all those stages–denial, anger, grief, acceptance, bargaining–I’m going through those with this. Denial because, has it really been three years? Anger because of what hasn’t happened, hopes and expectations that haven’t been met. Ugh. All the feelings. The good news being that, so much more than three years ago, I’m open to all the feelings and what they have to teach me. Sweetheart, letting go is never easy.

At times throughout this process I’ve imagined that I’d, I guess, somehow be perfectly healed, or just perfect, on the other side of this thing. And that one of my final posts would be like, here’s how I did it. And how you can too for three easy payments of $127. Alas, if anyone ever pitches you such a deal, run don’t walk away. Because the fact is that no matter what a person learns, they are always and forever still growing. Still a work in progress. As much as people like me may hate it, there is no perfect to get to. If it does exist, perfection is like the casserole I made for dinner tonight. A little bit of everything. One big delicious mess.

With cheese.

This being said, I would like to take this blog as an opportunity to “sum up” what I’ve learned or how I’ve grown as a direct result of this project. My idea being that, although I despise numbered lists and bulleted sub-headings, I’ll go through my blog “categories” one by one and write a few sentences or paragraphs about each one. As these categories became self-evident early on and new ones haven’t been added in maybe a year and a half, I’ve come to see them as themes, or what this time in my life has been all about. The lessons I’ve been learning and doing my best to embody.

So here we go. I’m just going to shoot from the hip. And I’ll try to be brief. (Yeah right, Marcus.)

1. Abundance

Ugh. Does this have to be the first one? This has been a toughy for me, since, as a result of my traumas, I grew up believing that if you love something, just wait, it’ll be taken away from you. And yet my therapist, who has a real hard on for abundance, has shoved it down my throat. Yes, things leave, but other things come around. Thankfully, I have made progress. For one thing, money isn’t terrifying to me anymore. Even though I don’t have much of it. Although now I imagine if I did I wouldn’t be scared of it. It’s just paper. The most important thing being, however, that I really do believe deep down that I’ve been given an abundance of talent, love, help, knowledge, wisdom, and resources (both internal and external) with which to make my way through life. Creatively, I’ve been given an abundance of ideas. This is what counts. I know it’s rough when your bank account is strapped, but don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

2. Affirmations

A lot of self-help books are huge on affirmations, looking in the mirror and saying, “I’m beautiful, rich, and forgiving.” Or whatever. And whereas I’ve tried this shit more times than I care to admit, it hasn’t been what’s worked for me. Instead, the affirmations that have turned my life around, rather than being forced into me, have come out of me. That’s what this blog has been about. Sweetheart, be patient. I’m here for you. So if you like the idea of affirmations, go for it. But don’t open a book to find them. Open your heart.

3. Archetypes and Personalities

More and more I see the world through the lenses of “we’re all different” and “we’re all the same.” And whereas I don’t subscribe to one particular personality system, it’s helped me to be able to label people with archetypes (diva, drama queen, addict, pimp), since it allows me to get impersonal about their behavior. Or even mine. (Of course I’m worried about my outfit; I’m an artist!) Additionally, the more personality systems I study, the more I realize that every archetype and personality type is not only neutral (although it can be animated positively or negatively), but also necessary. God knows we don’t need everyone to an anal-retentive control freak. But God also knows the world would be a much sloppier place without those of us who are. (Wash your damn hands.)

4. Authenticity

This is a buzz word these days, and one my therapist actually dislikes because it’s so “hip.” To me it equates to being honest, even and especially if that honesty looks like anger, sadness, or confusion. You know, the emotions we hide behind our masks. Alas, it doesn’t seem to be something we can achieve every minute of every day (certain niceties are required in a polite society), but it is something we can strive toward. Being real. Being ourselves. My only other thought about it is that I’ve often been as surprised as anyone else when I’ve been able to be assertive or–here’s another word my therapist hates–vulnerable. Like when I cry in public or admit my faults (which, I agree with my therapist, isn’t being vulnerable, it’s being honest). Meaning we often don’t know what our authentic selves look like until they reveal themselves to us.

5. Balance

Is required and looks different for everyone. How do you know you’re out of balance in any area of your life? Your body will tell you. Learn to listen to its subtle and not-so-subtle messages. Additionally, pay attention to your relationships. If they’re full of drama, contention, or anything but an underlying peace, something is out of whack. Chances are you’ll never be able to hold the center point forever, so just keep your eyes on the middle. The rest will take care of itself.

6. Boundaries

My therapist calls boundaries the Holy Grail of personal growth. And whereas I used to think I had them, I realized I didn’t. Pro tip: if you can’t say no or if you tell the most personal details of your life to complete strangers (or vice versa), you don’t either. So get some. Learn to not only say no, but hell no. Figure out what you’re worth and don’t settle for less. Get in touch with your soul, do whatever it says, and never, under any circumstances, sell it. For one thing, it’s not yours to sell. For another, you’ll always regret it. How do you do these things? By learning to say no, hell no. And don’t worry if you “mess up.” Life will, without a doubt, give you another opportunity to excel. As with all things, having good boundaries is a process.

7. Coco’s Favorites

These blogs are my personal favorites. Many are already tagged as such, but I’ll be adding others as I work my way through reading all my old posts.

8. Creativity

People say they’re not creative, but I’m convinced we all are, even if it’s just in the way we make up a story about how we’re not creative, or what someone did that ruined our lives, or how awful things are (when they’re really not). Of course, creativity is better expressed through writing, dancing, knitting, planting, decorating, or whatever, and I’m certain our souls MUST, somehow, expand themselves through creating. So first stop and notice WHAT you’re creating (dinner, drama, dissent), then think about what you’d LIKE to be creating (an encouraging environment, a business, a hilarious blog). Then CHOOSE something different.

9. Dancing

Is good for a hundred reasons. Do it. Even if you don’t like it, consider that you were made to move. Some way, somehow. Your very heart BEATS. Tune into the rhythm of your life. If you ARE willing to give dancing a try, remember what my mentor Maggie tells her students. “Let dancing love you.” If not dancing, then let something, someone. Please, open your heart.

10. Dream Interpretation

I wish I were a master at this or had some of the experiences the people who write all those books about dreams do. Lucid dreaming, predicting the future, and whatnot. I don’t know, my therapist says I have the “most auspicious dreams,” so maybe it’s just easy to think someone else’s life is better or more fabulous than yours. Regardless, I do believe our subconscious/inner wisdom speaks to us a thousand different ways. Through dreams, synchronicities, hunches, bodily sensations, feelings, emotions, and even thoughts. So it’s whatever floats your boat, whatever you’re willing to listen to. Just know that it’s not all as random as it seems. Know that you can trust yourself. You’re wiser than you realize.

11. Emotions

Are not something you primarily think about. They’re something you primarily feel. Also, I hate to break it to you, they’re not something that go away when you shove them down. Like, they just hang out in the shadows. In your shadow. And whereas I wish I had a surefire way for coaxing them out, I’ve learned they come up when they’re ready. The best thing we can do is to listen. Be curious. Love, or at least make space for, whatever arises. Including frustration, anger, grief, sadness, and anything else that gives you snot bubbles. Because that’s your inner wisdom talking. For example, anger often means “get some damn boundaries.” (See above.)

12. Encouragement

Whatever you’re going through, I promise you’re not alone. Yes, your situation is unique to you and is your cross to bear, but it’s not the first time it’s ever happened. In Alcoholics Anonymous they say, “You’re only as sick as you are isolated.” Meaning that a burden is automatically lifted when you stop trying to carry it yourself. So please know that people love you and are rooting for you. Granted, they don’t always know what to say, but I guarantee there are people who would take a bullet for you in a heartbeat. People who will cry at your funeral and feel that something important, something they liked, is missing from their lives when you’re gone.

13. Facebook Live

This is where I’ve put the few live videos I’ve done and where I’ve read, out loud, other stories I’ve written. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll do at least one more when this is over.

14. Gratitude

Is often something those self-help books try to force. Don’t worry, be happy. Alas, I’ve found that gratitude, like an affirmation, works best when it springs naturally from the heart. A humbling voice, it says, “Sweetheart, you have everything you could ever need and more.” What’s more, I’m convinced this voice is always there, available even when we are most down. It says, “Life sucks, but we’ve been given this breath, and with this breath we will make it to our next. Or make it home.” So again, listen to your heart. (Not your head.)

15. Growing Up

Involves letting go of the need to blame, being your own parent most of the time, taking responsibility for your life and choices, and sucks. But is absolutely necessary. Also, it’s natural. Stop fighting it.

16. Hope

As stated in The Shawshank Redemption, “is a good thing, maybe the best of things.” So please, please, please allow as much room as is humanly or even divinely possible that even your most challenging circumstance can turn around for the better. On a dime if heaven so sees fit. Along these lines, pray for miracles and expect them to show up.

17. Improv Comedy

Is worth trying or at least taking note of. Because, like life, it requires that you think on your feet, play well with others, and not look back. Audiences may not be forgiving, but improv teaches you to be. So what if the show didn’t go well? It’s over. (Everything in your life is over.) Why is this a good thing? Because now we can play another game.

18. Letting Go

Is one of the hardest things you’ll ever do. Because we like what we like and we want it last. Our relationships, our stuff, our identities, our stories and judgments about ourselves and others. Our blogs. But nothing lasts. We don’t get to keep a thing. So work on enjoying whatever it is while it’s here, then letting it go. The way the sun sets, the way a storm ceases. With grace.

19. Myths and Fairy Tales

Aren’t just cute little stories. Rather, within them are embedded the mysteries of life, our personalities, and our struggles. Best thing I ever heard on this topic was that your three favorite movies reveal the path your life is on, and I believe this more and more. Recently through EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) I realized one of my favorite movie characters (for almost twenty years now) was not only hung up on integrity (like I am) but was also embarrassed by his station in life (like I used to be). The idea being that you’re drawn to these characters and their stories for a reason. Your inner wisdom is nudging you forward, giving you a template for what’s possible. Be willing to take the trip.

20. Patience

Is almost harder than letting go. But is one of the most useful traits you could ever hope to develop. Because although the universe is capable of turning on a dime, it rarely does. What’s more, it rarely does what you want it to, when you want it to. Pro tip: the less you insist on having everything your way, the more patient you’ll be. So, in the words of Nancy Byrd Turner, “learn to labor and to wait.” Give yourself the gift of time. To grow. To heal. Nature does not proceed in leaps, and neither do we.

21. Perspective

If I could give everyone one gift, it would be the gift of perspective, the gift of being able to perceive whatever it is thats bothering you (including yourself) in a different way. Alas, since I can’t, go see a therapist. This is what they get paid for. But seriously, what if you could put on a pair of mystical glasses that allowed you to see everything in your life, even the rotten stuff, as heaven’s gift to you? What if you could turn your viewpoint upside down and really see that there’s nothing in your life by accident and that–if it’s there–it’s there for a reason? To challenge you, to grow you, to change you, and maybe even the world, for the better? What if you could look at the mountain you’re facing and, rather than asking God to remove it, absolutely know you were meant to climb it? And then put your boots on. This is my encouragement. Pick up a book, go to church, or bang your head against the wall, not until your circumstances shift, but until your perspective does. Because that’s when you will.

22. Relationships

Seems to be the medium through which everything happens. The bullshit, the learning, and the healing. So look alive. Like or not, no one is alone. We’re all in this together.

23. Self-Acceptance

Means coming to love yourself warts and all, not putting up such a damn front, and being gentle with yourself and others. It means accepting every part of you–even the ugly, angry, and sad parts. The weird thing? The more you accept yourself exactly as you are, the more you accept others and the world exactly as they are. And vice versa. This is why Jesus said don’t judge. Because that which you hold against someone else, sooner or later, you’ll hold against yourself. But as you accept That Which Is Unacceptable in yourself or another, That Which Is Unacceptable becomes your teacher. All parts come bearing gifts. Hold out your hands.

24. Spiritual Practice

Looks different for everyone but is something I’m convinced we all long for and participate in somehow. Maybe one person does it in the kitchen, the way they lovingly prepare the perfect meal to feed their family. Maybe another does it in a chapel. I grew up as a Christian. Last night I prayed the rosary. Now I don’t know what to call myself. More and more, the labels are unimportant. It’s the experience I’m after, the inner knowing that I’m part of something bigger than myself. The conviction that every time I take a breath, God breathes with me. I’m after what the mystics know, the truth that every life, every rock, and every molecule is both sacred and holy.

25. The Physical Body

This could be an entire series of posts. And has been. Suffice it to say that every experience we have on this planet is granted to us through our physical organism. And whereas my personal temptation has been to ignore my body’s signals (information, guidance, wisdom) or be mad it at for hurting or being sick (not good enough), I’ve learned that it is the master and I am its pupil. I am in its classroom, and I must play by its rules. So more and more I’m learning to love, honor, and take care of my body, this gift I’ve been given. Granted, it’s easy to compare yourself to others and find fault with your body, but then you miss The Mystery. Then you miss the wonder that is you.

26. Therapy and Healing

Is actually a thing. And whereas I could go on and on about different therapies and modalities I’ve tried and succeeded with, really, it all started the day I picked up the phone and called my therapist. One little choice that was really a big choice. “I think I need help,” I said. Thankfully, my therapist was a good fit for me, and her office became a safe place, a sacred place, where I could begin to put myself back together. And whereas I’ve done a lot of work on my own, I think this is a huge part of the process. Having a witness. Not someone that does the work for you, but someone who sees you and believes in you. Maybe more than you do. Someone who is willing to stick with you through it all. Another big part being what my therapist told me that first session. “For this hour we’re going to do two things: sit in truth and not judge ourselves.” So whatever path you choose, I suggest taking these two gems with you. The truth (it will set you free) and non-judgment. I promise, you’ll get further faster if you do.

27. Transformation

Is not only possible, but necessary. Just like a caterpillar can’t stay a caterpillar forever, we as humans can’t stay our old selves forever. Indeed, we’ve been designed to grow, change, transform, evolve. To forget that which is behind and press forward toward the mark. To be burned in the ashes and rise again. To die on the cross and ascend three days (or three years) later. This is written in our stories, and this is written in our cells. So just find a way to accept it. Then get on with the process. Set your foot upon The Path. Entertain the idea that you are more (insert positive adjective here) than you ever thought possible.

28. Travel Writing

Hasn’t been a huge part of my journey or this blog but is still worth mentioning. One lesson from traveling being that, just like that, the universe can take you on a trip, put someone on your path, or put you on someone else’s. Just like that, you can be in a whole new world. With a whole new perspective. JRR Tolkein said, “Still round the corner there may wait, a new road or secret gate.” Believe in this magic. Trust that as one journey ends, another is beginning.

29. Writing

Isn’t for everyone, but is for everyone. At least, words are for everyone. Personally, these words, these hundreds of thousands of words, have changed my life. Once a writer friend pointed out that I was literally writing into existence the life I wanted to live. Sweetheart, hang on for one more day. Things will get better. Lately I’ve been hashtagging all my posts #healing. And whereas I’ve thought of these statements and labels as simply my way of hoping or just description, well, in the beginning was the word. Seriously. Think of the world you create when you say something is “possible” versus the world you create when you say something is “impossible.” Notice how your thoughts, feelings, emotions, attitude, and actions change depending on which world you decide to inhabit. Crazy, I know. And that’s just one little word. Now, have the words I’ve written these last three years MADE my life change? I could never prove that. But my life has changed, and surely it’s at least partly due to the fact that at some point I started telling myself a different story. A story I wanted to hear. One of healing, forgiveness, self-acceptance, hope, transformation, and transcendence. A story in which I was the hero and there was a happy ending.

And surely anyone can do this.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Life is never just so. Honestly, it’s a big damn mess most of the time.

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On Seeing Options (Blog #1056)

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Today I’ve been thinking about options and the idea that we always have them. This morning I saw my primary care physician, whom I saw for the first time several months ago and–honestly–wasn’t crazy about. Er, I wasn’t crazy about his bedside manner. Still, he was on top of my test results, and a couple people I trust, including my therapist, suggested giving him another chance. So I thought, What the hell? But on my way to his office this morning I kept imagining some sort of confrontation, him being an asshole or something. But then I thought, Even if he is, Marcus, you’ve got options. You can stand up for yourself. You can ask him to change his tone of voice. You can listen. You can storm out and flip him the bird.

You know, options.

Despite all my fretting, my appointment with my doctor went fabulously. Indeed, he was much warmer than he was before. Or maybe I was. Regardless, we got along. What’s more, he patiently and attentively answered all my questions and addressed my concerns. What’s even more, he took an aggressive approach to one of my longstanding issues (acid reflux) and suggested I see a specialist. “If you don’t hear from them within a week, call me,” he said.

So often I worry about my health problems and think, It’s hopeless. I’ve tried everything. And sure, I HAVE tried everything that I’ve tried. But more and more I realize that I haven’t even come close to trying everything in the world. I mean, think about it. Our planet is chockfull of information and the experiences of other people, people like you and me who have struggled and–finally–found an answer, people who are just waiting to share. And whereas what works for one person may not work for another, it may. (I’ll say it again.) It may. This is why lately I’ve been especially sold on the idea of talking to others about the problems in my life that I want solved. Normally I’m so “I’ll do it myself, damn it,” but the older I get the more I’m convinced I can’t think of everything. I can’t do everything myself. I NEED others, especially experts in their respective fields, to pass along new ideas, new options, new hope.

To remind me that all is not yet lost.

One thing I’ve noticed about me is that I often put off trying something I think will help because, well, what if it doesn’t work? I’ll have this ace up my sleeve–a home remedy or a new doctor, let’s say–but I wont use it because I imagine that if THIS THING doesn’t work, nothing will. Which, of course, would send me into the pit of despair, and since I don’t want to go there, I don’t try the thing. Alas, this applies not only to my health issues, but also to my business and creative adventures, even my dating life. I don’t want to be disappointed, so I’m not even going to try.

As you know, dear reader, a thought like this is very logical in your head. But not so logical on paper. Because if I don’t try–if you don’t try–then guess what? That’s right, barring divine intervention, a Damascus Road experience, nothing is going to change.

Yes, let’s hear it for trying. Better said, let’s hear it for not giving up. (Hip, hip, hooray!) Thomas Edison knew something about not giving up. He attempted to create the lightbulb 1,000 times before he got it right. 1,000 times! 1,000 “failures” or disappointments. And yet he kept trying, kept hoping, kept believing. In possibility. In answers to tough problems. In himself. Ugh. This is the the hardest thing, to continue to persevere when the proverbial door is slammed in your face over and over again. And yet look what one person–one person!–can do when they decide to stick with it. When they see OPTIONS instead of LIMITATIONS. Wow! They can light up the world.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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As the ocean of life changes, we must too.

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Just You Wait, Mountain (Blog #1020)

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This afternoon I saw my upper cervical care doctor. And whereas it took an hour to get there and over two hours to get back (because I kept stopping at antique stores), I was in and out of the office in five minutes. “You look good today,” the doctor said after checking a scan of my neck, “so I’m going to leave you alone.” That’s the deal, he operates by the–if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it–policy. Not that I’ve felt like a million bucks lately. Indeed, my back has been hurting and I’ve been fighting a sinus infection. And I told the doctor this. But he reminded me that just because you feel bad doesn’t mean your body isn’t healing. “You’ve been dealing with a lot of issues for a long time, and it’s just going to TAKE SOME TIME for your body to clean things up.”

Then he added, “For a while, you’ll experience remnants.”

Remnants, what a perfect word for those parts of our past (emotions, patterns, illnesses) that creep up every now and then and threaten to never go away. Yesterday I started painting the inside of some cabinets and cabinet drawers for a friend, and even after two coats of white, the ugly (dirty, filthy, rotten) brown that was there before still peeked out in places. And whereas I was tempted to think I’ll never get things how I want them, experience has taught me the value of persistence. So this evening I returned and applied a third coat. Now we’re talking, I thought as I rolled over the previous two layers of white. Hasta la vista, ugly (dirty, filthy, rotten) brown.

Persistence, that’s one of the things I’ve been thinking about tonight. The idea that if you just keep at something, eventually you’ll have a breakthrough (or a breakdown). Not that you should go barking up the wrong tree (you’re not gonna turn a homo straight, ladies). Pick your battles, know when you’re licked, and all that. But more and more I’m convinced that we don’t experience success in learning, dancing, remodeling, healing, and even praying simply because we quit trying. Because we give up. Because we think, This is going nowhere, and throw in the towel. Earlier this week I was thinking maybe I’ll just have to deal with sinus infections for the rest of my life, and my mom (randomly) mentioned a product I haven’t tried before, something she read about on her Facebook feed. Now, will it help? Hell if I know. It hasn’t even arrived yet. But the important thing is that I’ve decided to give it a whirl.

In this, there is hope.

Of course, all these things I’ve touched on–healing, persistence, and hope–require patience. Ah, there’s the rub. For anything that takes time (and what doesn’t?), we have to be willing to wait for it. Better said, we have to be willing to endure, to trust that things are going to work out. I think about the way a blade of grass can push itself through concrete, the way running water can make a rough stone smooth–given enough time. Most of us look at the mountains in our lives and think, Impossible. I could never get that thing to move. But not the rain. Knowing the power of persistence, it thinks, Just you wait, mountain. Give me enough time, and I’ll wear you down. Indeed, I’ll throw you into the sea. There won’t be a remnant left.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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All things are moving as they should.

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Time Well Spent (Blog #1012)

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For the last eight days I’ve been struggling with a sinus infection. And whereas it’s not really getting worse, it’s not really getting better either. Every morning I cough up junk. Every afternoon I feel wiped out. Every night I cough myself to sleep. All the while I pray for a solution. Not just a temporary one, but a permanent one. And whereas sometimes I think heaven must be tired of hearing from me (it’s me again, Margaret), I keep telling myself that’s not the way God works. Just because I’d be sick (I am sick, actually) of hearing from me, doesn’t mean God is. Of course, having been around for ETERNITY, he’s got this patience thing down.

Me? I’m still working on it.

This afternoon I taught a dance lesson to a couple, and when I asked if they’d practiced since I last saw them two weeks ago, they said, “No.” Now, this didn’t surprise me. Hardly any of my students practice unless they HAVE to. Like if they have a performance or a wedding coming up. Otherwise, they practice when they see me. And whereas there’s nothing wrong with not practicing (it’s job security for me), it naturally means the students progress at a slower pace than they COULD. Conversely, once I had a mentor who said it only took him a year to learn how to dance (the average is three to five years) because he worked at it every day for hours on end. And whereas this man had a natural aptitude for dancing and my students–quite frankly–don’t, my point is that just as HE CHOSE to go fast, they’re CHOOSING to go slow.

Recently I wrote about creating time, and this is what I meant. That is, to a large extent, we decide how quickly we want things to happen. Are certain things out of our control? Absolutely, a million things are. But take this, for example. This afternoon and evening I worked non-stop on an arts and crafts project I’ve been tinkering with for the last few weeks, framing antique jewelry. (I plan to post pictures soon.) And whereas it’s going slower than expected (because when you do something for the first time you run into all sorts of problems–er, challenges–you hadn’t anticipated), I should be done in a couple more days if I stick with it. My point being that I COULD drag this little project out for days, weeks, months if I wanted to.

But I don’t. I’m ready to see it finished. Which means I’m willing to put in the work.

Now, just because I’m ready to tackle this particular project doesn’t mean I’m not procrastinating like hell on plenty of others. Indeed, there are books I plan to read and books I plan to write–one day. Most likely, either it’s simply not time or I’m putting them off because I’m afraid of how my life will change–or worse, not change–once I do. Full of the fear of failure, I slow things down. I pump the brakes. Quite literally, I create (more) time.

Caroline Myss says we do this time creating thing constantly, in every area of our life. With our relationships, with our careers. Even with our resentments. Like, we decide how long it’s going to take us to get over something. We decide how long we’re going to “hang on.” We joke about this. Someone brings up an argument they had with their lover in 1983, and we say, “Still not over it?” Clearly they’re not. But they COULD be, just like my dance students COULD be further along than they are.

One of Myss’s points about all this is that we can’t decide to move slowly in terms of our resentments and expect to move quickly in terms of our healing. Because you can’t hang on and expect your body to let go at the same time. You either both hang on or you both let go. This is one of the reasons I’ve talked so much lately about letting go and forgiving. More and more, I see the price of holding grudges and being bitter (about anything) as simply too high. Now, I don’t claim to be a master at this. Nor do I have any promise that as I work to let go that my body will miraculously heal. Or heal at all. Although I do believe forgiving in one way to SPEED UP healing. Indeed, I’ve heard stories of people who forgave experiencing healing. But healing is always a grace, never a guarantee. This being said, and despite the fact that I currently feel like poop, I have experienced more physical healing these last two years (and especially these last two months) than ever before, and I don’t think it’s simply a coincidence that this has happened alongside my conscious choice to–in front of God and everybody–connect with my own good heart.

When I first sat down to write tonight I thought I was going to write about hope. Because whenever I don’t feel well I usually hit a point when I think things are hopeless. Consequently, it’s good for me to talk myself down off a ledge, to remind myself to be patient. Because the truth is there’s always hope. Likewise, as long as you’re alive you can always choose to be a better dancer, choose to be a kinder, gentler person. Even if you grow just a little bit each year, that’s something and is better than choosing not to. My point being that as long as YOU can change, your body can change, your life can change. And if takes a lifetime or an eternity to heal, to really heal?

Then it’s time well spent. And you haven’t hoped–or worked–in vain.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You have everything you need.

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Don’t You Give Up (Blog #971)

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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.

Here’s a link to his website, which includes an embedded video about what upper cervical care is and does.

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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Abundance comes in many forms.

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Not Just on the Roof (Blog #916)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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In other words, there's always SOMETHING else to improve or work on. Therefore, striving for perfection is not only frustrating, it's also technically impossible.

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Good Help Is Good Hope (Blog #825)

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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)

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Love stands at the front door and says, “You don’t have to change a thing about yourself to come inside.”

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On Looking Back (Blog #686)

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It’s Valentine’s Day. No offense to anyone in a relationship, but–balloons, chocolates, and candy–ick. Clearly I’m not in a relationship. And whereas most days I’m okay with that, I admit it–today it’d be nice to have someone to take a selfie with so we could post it on social media and make all the single people out there jealous. Now, what I’d do with this person the other 364 days of the year, I don’t know. Anyway, in order to NOT be jealous of all the lovely couples out there posting pictures, I’ve tried to stay off the internet today. I say tried–I’ve only been mildly successful.

This afternoon I started worrying about finances. That’s a great thing to do on a day when you already don’t feel great. Then I started getting a headache and maybe a fever blister, so I took a nap. Sometimes this is my best strategy when I can’t find a good-feeling thought. Unfortunately, the nap didn’t last long, and I woke up still overwhelmed. But then a friend who’s a great listener and always makes me laugh called, and we solved the world’s problems for almost an hour. Now I don’t feel fabulous, but I don’t feel awful either, which I consider an improvement.

I guess there’s something about getting your worries and concerns out–saying them to a friend, writing them down on paper (or the internet) that makes them feel more manageable. I guess it gives you room to breathe. That’s something I’ve been trying to do lately–breathe. (I’ve also been trying to stay off the internet today). I feel like my body is asking me to breathe, to slow down, in a dozen different ways, and I really am trying to give myself a break. And yet there’s all this stress. Wayne Dyer says you could search the world over and never find enough stress to fill up a bucket. That is, it’s all in your head. I would add, however, it’s also in your body. When I get worked up, I get a headache, maybe a fever blister. I break out in hives.

Put me in a bucket, Wayne.

Yesterday I told myself that I was going to take myself to a movie this afternoon. Since Valentine’s is the day of love, I reasoned, I might as well spend it with someone I care about. Alas, this plan didn’t happen. Instead, I went to the grocery store, where I bought a basketful of fruits and vegetables because I’m trying to add juices to my diet. I say trying because when I got home and made my first juice (spinach, celery, pineapple, and ginger), I discovered our blender is officially a wimp. Seriously, what’s the point of having blades and a motor if you’re no match for a stalk of celery? But whatever, I made it work. And you should have seen me drinking that green stuff. I felt so freakin’ healthy.

Then I had tacos for dinner.

Earlier when I was talking to my friend, I brought up a few bad days from my past–the day my dad went to prison, for example. I said, “Compared to that day, today was a breeze.” And not that I think a day has to be the worst day ever in order to be recognized as difficult. I really hate when you’re struggling and someone says, “It could be worse” or “There are starving children in India.” Granted, it could be worse–things can always be worse–and that doesn’t mean you’re not struggling right here, right now. Still, I do think it’s important to remember that things HAVE BEEN worse–not because pain is a contest–but because looking back can remind you what you’ve come through. It can remind you how strong and capable you are. It can remind you that even the worst situations can come to an end. In short, it can remind you to–

hope.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

Suddenly Feeling Warm Again (Blog #404)

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Just shy of a year ago, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. For a couple months I didn’t mention it on the blog, but then I did, in this post. For several months last year, Mom underwent chemotherapy, then had a double mastectomy this past January. As I understand it, at that point she was cancer free, but for the last six weeks she’s been getting radiation five times a week in order to increase her odds of staying in remission. Well, today was her last treatment. Other than taking a pill and (I’m assuming) the occasional checkup, she’s done.

What a year.

At the end of this last February, my dad went to the emergency room for his own set of issues, most of which had to do with his heart. In the hospital for a solid week, he’s been slowly improving ever since, largely due to the fact that my mom has taken over his diet. She counts his carbs, measures his sodium, keeps track of his calories. (Dad calls her The Food Nazi.) Also, Dad’s going to cardiac rehab, getting some exercise. Well, in just over two months, he’s lost 55 pounds. Isn’t that wild? Personally, I never thought I’d see the day. Like, I would have placed bets against it.

I’m just being honest.

As long as I’ve known him, my dad has been a big guy. He had a heart attack when I was in my early twenties, and, by his own admission, it didn’t scare him a bit. However, it did scare me–I started jogging that same day. Then I started going to the gym, and I’ve been off-and-on obsessed with my health ever since. For a while–a long while–I gave my dad a lot a shit about his weight. We’d go out to eat, he’d order a cheesecake, and I’d shoot him “the look.” Sometimes I’d even say, “Are you really going to eat that?”

He’d often reply, “You know, you’re not fun to go out with anymore.”

At some point, I quit trying to convince Dad to eat differently. I mean, I’d tried everything–information, logic, guilt–and nothing worked. Once he said, “You can’t say anything I haven’t thought myself,” and eventually I let that sink in. I thought, It’s his life, not mine. Then I started acting like it. It took some time, but I dropped all the food conversations. I got rid of the look. Slowly, there was less tension between us. Consequently, not only did we get along better, but I also liked him better. He hadn’t changed, but I had.

When Dad saw his primary care physician the week after his hospital stay, he said, “Doc, what I really want to know is–when can I have a cheeseburger?” In the past other doctors have said, “Never, Mr. Coker. You will NEVER eat a cheeseburger again.” (As Dad likes to say, that went over like a fart in church.) But this guy said, “How about you lose fifty pounds, AND THEN you can have a cheeseburger?” This strategy actually worked with Dad. For the last two months, he’s weighed every day, and has often beamed as he’s shared his results. Just a few days ago, he hit his (first) goal weight–he lost fifty pounds.

A storm can leave your life just as quickly as it enters it.

All this to say that today our family went out for cheeseburgers to celebrate. After Mom’s last radiation, she and Dad met Dad’s two sisters (my aunts) at Freddy’s Steakburgers in Fort Smith, which Dad’s had his eye on ever since they recently opened. (As I’m eating Autoimmune Paleo, I ordered my burger without the bread–but kept the cheese. So sue me.) And whereas we looked like everyone else in the restaurant–just a family eating burgers–it was a big deal–a ritual, really–an acknowledgment that big, scary things can and do turn around. For me it was a reminder that a storm can leave your life just as quickly as it enters it, that you can spend years in the darkness drenched and shivering, and then one afternoon the sun can break through the clouds. Perhaps this is what hope and healing are, suddenly feeling warm again as you watch the waters that nearly drowned you disappear into thin air.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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