Taking My Mind Back (Blog #221)

Today I’ve been all over the emotional map–North, South, East, and West–in anything but a straight line. I saw my therapist this afternoon, and that’s almost always a shot in the arm. I mean, she’s hilarious and insightful. As per usual, we tackled “the list” of all the thoughts, problems, and curiosities I couldn’t stop thinking about this last week. Probably half our time was spent on dreams I’ve had lately, which included a hot sex dream and a dream about Hillary Clinton. (To be absolutely perfectly clear, those were two distinct, separate dreams.) I’ll spare you the lengthy analysis, but when it was over, my therapist said, “You really have the best dreams.” Well, not once in my life have I ever thought my subconscious would get such a glowing review, but now that it has, I sort of want to put it on my resume. Marcus Coker–can get shit done even in his sleep.

Feel free to roll your eyes.

In case it needs to be restated–my therapist detests social media. If you’ve looked at what people are posting lately, I’m sure you can figure out way. Anyway, today she had a whole slew of new anti-social-media stickers on her laptop, the biggest of which said, “Social Media Personality Disorder.” I said, “Oh, like, I’m neurotic because someone didn’t like my post or said something negative?”

She said, “Exactly.”

Beneath that sticker was one that said, “Take your mind back.” Tying the two sentiments together, my therapist said, “Don’t hand your mind over to other people. You know who you are.” To me this means that I can’t let a news feed filled with cats and political arguments tell me how to feel every day. What’s more, if I spend the day scrolling, comparing myself to others and looking for outside validation, I’m only going to end up feeling worse about myself. So ultimately, unless I want to be neurotic, I have to be responsible for my thoughts and feelings. This, of course, is the very essence of authenticity.

A couple months ago I started a small remodel project–replacing a door threshold–for my friend Ray. Well, it’s dragged on and on because the threshold had to be special ordered, and I guess the shipping department kept sending the product to a different store location. Not knowing this, the store I was working with kept ordering new ones–a total of three of them, in fact. Anyway, shit happens. I finally picked up the threshold today, was immediately deflated because I realized I didn’t have the proper tools to remove the excess length, then got excited when I went to Ray’s because I discovered it was exactly the right size.

Sometimes life throws you a bone.

I guess technically–in this case–I threw myself a bone, since I’m the one who would have specified the length of the threshold when I ordered it. That being said, I’m willing to share the credit with life. Very magnanimous of me, I know.

The project itself went really well, albeit slower than I desired. Since some of the wood in the door frame was rotten, I needed to replace it, and this meant using a saw. Well, the only saw blade I had was dull, and for a while I dicked around hoping I could make it work. Dull blades are useless, of course, so then I tried chiseling the wood and even sanding it in order to make it the right size. This felt like trying to teach a cat how to bark. Well, I finally gave up, gave in, made the long haul back to the hardware store, and bought new blades. Y’all, things went MUCH faster after that. Who’d have thought? Now–after all this time–the project is finished.

Phew.

Feeling rather accomplished, I celebrated by playing with Ray’s new kitten, Leo. I’m really not a cat person, but I love black cats, and Leo was SO CUTE. Not only did he let me hold him in my arms like a baby, he also wore a black-and-white bow tie for the occasion. Talk about a class act. But seriously–a kitten in a bow tie! Could anything be more adorable?

The low point for the evening was checking the mail when I got home. Remember when I went to the emergency room a few weeks ago for a skin infection? Well, I got the bill today, and apparently my insurance didn’t pay for anything–not a cent was spent. Talk about a huge bummer, letdown, and disappointment. I tried to stop myself, but I immediately commenced freaking out. I can’t afford this. I should’ve gone to a regular doctor. Shit–I want chocolate chip cookies–This is a terrible day to be on a diet. Y’all, if it’s not obvious, it’s really difficult for me to stay calm in these situations. I went through a similar ordeal after I had sinus surgery this year (which turned out fabulously, despite my worrying), and every time the feeling is the same–I just want the whole thing over with.

This is probably something I should bring up in therapy, the way I flip shit whenever I see a piece of paper that says, “Balance due.” It probably has something to do with the fact that I was handed the family checkbook–which didn’t have much money in it, by the way–at the age of fifteen when Dad went to prison. Now that I think about it, I’m sure it has everything to do with that.

Anyway, it took me a while to talk myself down off the ledge. For a while I tried to ignore the issue by reading a book about writing I found at a used bookstore this afternoon. Then I decided I had to move, so I went for a run, even though it was drizzling and cold outside. Considering the fact that I’m just getting over three weeks of being sick, this may not have been the smartest move. Still, I had to do something to burn off my nervous energy, which I guess I had a lot of because I ended up running six miles. Along the way I remembered that 1) what’s done is done, 2) my life could be much, much, worse, and 3) it’s possible this could turn out better than I’m thinking it will. Around mile five, I actually laughed when I thought of one of my favorite comedy sketches.

Last month when I was in Colorado at a spiritual retreat, the teacher said, “Joy is not in the object.” This statement came out of the observation that most of us behave as if joy is in the object. Like, we want a new car, a new house, or a new boyfriend because we think having those things will make us happy. But if happiness resided in those particular things, they’d make everyone happy or they’d make us happy all of the time. Well, when I laughed while running tonight, I realized that just as joy is not in the object, neither is anxiety, nervousness, or stress. In other words, if a hospital bill were truly the source of my worry, I wouldn’t be able to laugh until it were taken care of. The fact that my mood can change, however, shows me that my reaction has very little to do with a sheet of paper and everything to do with me.

Some things simply take time and often more than one trip to the hardware store.

Personally, I think this is really good news, since I have a better shot at controlling myself than I do controlling the outside world. But the point is that the outside world really can’t control your internal one unless you let it–nothing outside of you can tell you what to think or feel. Granted, part of me is still freaking out about the medical bill, but the adult that’s sitting in this chair knows that I’ll call the hospital tomorrow and start a conversation about what can be done. Like the threshold project, I’ll want everything to be wrapped up as soon as possible, but I’ll remind myself that some things simply take time and often more than one trip to the hardware store. In this way, I hope to take my mind back from all the many people, places, and things to which I’ve let it wander, gently coaxing it back home to rest where it belongs.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Anything and everything is possible.

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Available Grace (Blog #51)

Last night I noticed on Facebook that the author David Sedaris was coming to Tulsa in a few weeks and there were tickets on sale for the event that included a copy of his newest book and a guaranteed spot in the autograph line. Facebook said tickets would go on sale at ten this morning, so I thought maybe that would be a reason to get up before noon. But then I stayed awake until seven this morning watching a movie, so I thought, Eff that noise—I’m sleeping in. Besides, I figured it couldn’t hurt to save some money, especially since, you know, I don’t have a job.

A few weeks ago, I wrote about going to pay the hospital part of my sinus surgery bill and meeting a woman in the billing department who was dead-set on helping me. At that time, she said there was an assistance program for middle-aged men who lived with their parents—or something like that—and it would possibly cover seventy to ninety percent of my balance. That night I sent in all the paperwork by email, but I never got a confirmation, so I’ve been wondering if I should follow up on it. (The control freak in me said yes, but the rest of me said to chill the fuck out, so for the first time ever, my control freak sat down and shut his mouth.)

Since deciding to have the surgery, I’ve been telling myself that no matter what it cost or how long it takes to pay it off, it would be worth it. Having had the surgery, I still believe that. That being said, I have this big hang-up about not having any debt, so I’ve spent a lot of time over the last several months worrying about how I was going to take care of everything.

When I got up this afternoon, there was a letter from the hospital for me on the kitchen table, and it came in one of those envelopes with a see-through window, and I could read the part that said, “RE: Charity Approved.” Well, my legs went all rubbery, so I leaned up against the kitchen counter and tore through the envelope and tried to force myself to read the letter from the beginning and not cheat. But I couldn’t help it, and my eyes went straight to the part in bold.

Y’all, the hospital paid one hundred freakin’ percent.

So I’ve had a great day. This evening I went for a really long walk, and I practically skipped the entire time. Of course, I’m still responsible for the doctor’s part of the surgery, but the gift—the grace—I received from the hospital takes a huge load off. That’s the way I’m looking at this, as a grace. For me, it’s a reminder that good things happen even during those periods in our lives that don’t work out like we think they should, those times that seem like one disappointment after another.

For all of the things life takes away, it gives so much more in return.

They say that it’s always darkest before the dawn. First, I hate that. But I do think there’s something to be said for a light that breaks through the clouds just when you’re struggling to maintain hope. I know that’s what it felt like when I had the surgery—hope at the perfect moment. I’d been struggling with sinus infections for so long—twenty years—and I was about ready to give up. And then this magical prince of a surgeon came galloping up on a white horse and saved the day. (Okay, so I actually drove to him in a Honda Civic, but still.) And then, everyone at his office and everyone at the hospital that day were patient, kind, and professional. And if that weren’t enough, the hospital just said, “Oh don’t worry about that bill. We’ll take care of it.”)

Talk about a fairy tale.

(The above photo is of me and Lee Roy, the closet thing I could find to a prince on short notice. It was taken around Easter, which is why he looks like a rabbit.)

Of course, I don’t know why God and the universe do things the way they do. I imagine that having less medical debt means that I can start the next phase of my life sooner, but it may have nothing to do with that. But I do know that the news today has given me a lot of hope, and it’s reminded me to be patient and let things unfold in their own time. It’s also reminded me to do everything I can to walk through life with humility and gratitude. After all, each of us needs help at times. No one gets through life completely on his own.

When I got home from the walk, I decided to get those tickets to see David Sedaris for me and a friend. I thought it would be a great way to celebrate, to give something back to someone else, and to keep me excited about writing. So that’s what I did, and I’ll let you know how it goes.

When I sat down to write tonight’s blog, I started by looking through my computer files, which I sometimes do for inspiration. I came across a poem, a meditation called I Come to Him Running. It’s one of my favorite things, and the first time I heard it, it brought me to tears. I guess it feels like hope, and it does for me in words what the hospital did for me in actions. It reminds me there’s a lot going on behind the scenes, good things are being prepared for all of us, and they’re being prepared in abundance. For all that life takes away, it gives so much more in return. Whether we realize it or not, there’s always grace available.

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I Come to Him Running
The Mishkat Al-Masabih

The Prophet said,

God Most High has said:
When my worshipper’s thoughts turn to Me,
there am I with him.
And when he makes mention of Me within himself,
I make mention of him within Myself;
and when he makes mention of Me in company,
I make mention of him in a better company.
If he draw near to Me a hand’s breadth,
I draw near to him an arm’s length;
and if he draw near to Me an arm’s length,
I draw near to him the length of both arms
wide outstretched;
and if he come to Me walking, I come to him running.
And if he meet Me with sins equivalent to the whole world,
I will greet him with forgiveness equal to it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It's enough to sit in, and sometimes drag ass through, the mystery.

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God: sloppy or not? (blog #26)

Sometimes I think that God is sloppy. There, I said it. And all I mean by that is that God doesn’t do things the way I would do them. (Surprise.) Like, in my world, everything has its place. My keys always go here, or there, and if they’re not here, or there, they’re lost. And at the end of every day, I go through my man bag and put all the pens in the pen holders, and all the books in the middle pocket, and all the bills I need to pay in the outside pocket, and all three of my prescription glasses in the other pocket next to my wallet that holds all of my credit cards that are organized according to their respective billing due dates. (It’s a wonder I don’t get laid more.)

This morning I woke up and immediately started thinking about all the things I needed to do today. Specifically, I started thinking about three separate conversations I needed to have in order to figure out the hospital billing for the sinus surgery I had a couple of months ago. Not that hospital billing is normally easy, but on the day of the surgery, the doctor said he wanted to do a second CT scan because the first one was off by nine degrees. (That’s funny. My favorite number is nine.) He said I wouldn’t be charged for it.

So of course I was.

But I haven’t been charged for the first one. Which is too bad, since the first one was cheaper than the second one because insurance is, well, a fucking mystery, probably invented by drunk space aliens. So for the last two months, I’ve wanted to get this whole thing figured out and effectively move “pay my hospital bill” from my “to-do list” to my “done list” because I’m organized and everything has its place and I don’t like things being unsettled.

God, on the other hand, obviously enjoys a good mess and is not in a hurry to get this matter checked off his list because I’ve ended up with three or four different account numbers at the hospital, and that’s made even the billing department confused. So now the day is over, and I’ve had all three of those conversations (two with billing people and one with the doctor), and whereas everyone was extremely helpful, things still aren’t completely settled. (Clearly God’s getting his way, and that drives me nuts.)

I’ve been thinking most the day that I would write about the idea that the universe—God—is communicative. There’s a dead philosopher (whom I have a really big intellectual crush on) named Alan Watts who points out that not only are you interested in and watching the universe, but the universe is also interested in and watching you. Well, this is an idea I’ve been slowly coming around to, that the universe is interacting with all of us, and that it’s actually kind and not vindictive or punitive.

So this afternoon I was on my way to a gift shop in Fayetteville, and I was thinking about the fact that one of the positive things about living with my parents is that I started this blog and I started writing every day. And although that’s not a steady paycheck and it’s not living in Austin, it’s a small start, and sometimes small starts end up as big finishes. (Just like a mustard seed starts small but doesn’t stay that way.) So I got to the gift shop, and as I was looking at cards, I noticed one that showed several light bulbs hanging down, just like the main picture I chose for this blog. And I kind of did a double take and smiled to myself because I figured God was communicating.

Before I left the store, the girl behind the counter asked what I was doing later, so I said, “I’m teaching a dance class.” And then I asked her the same thing, and she said, “I’m moving.”

“Where are you moving?”

“I’m moving in with my parents because I’m getting married soon, so I’m living with them for a while.”

“That’s funny,” I said, “I’m living with my parents now.”

And then she said, “I think it’s great. I mean, it’s part of the dream.”

So I took that as God communicating again, just letting me know that living with my parents is part of my journey, part of my dream.

Oh, and I almost forgot one more thing God said to me–the message on the front of the card with the light bulbs—“Your future looks bright.”

(This picture was taken just outside the store where God talked to me.)

Little incidents like these thrill me to no end because I think of all the things that had to come together in order for me to be in that one particular shop when that one particular girl was working, which just happened to be the day she was moving in with her parents. And also that card had to be there instead of some other card, and some card designer had to make those light bulbs hang down the way they do on this site. (Incidentally, the site photo was taken years ago in Albuquerque at an Urban Outfitters, and it was one of my first Instagram posts, and it just “felt right” when I was designing the page.)

Obviously, God’s capable of a lot. Just look around.

Just before I wrote that last paragraph, I was about to say, once again, that God was sloppy, that it would have been more clean cut and organized to get me the message some other way. (A burning bush maybe?) But having written that last paragraph, I have to admit that God is a lot more organized than I give him credit for. And if all those things could come together seamlessly just so God could whisper, “You’re doing better than you think you are,” what else is he capable of?

Obviously, he’s capable of a lot. Just look around.

A friend reminded me tonight that God–the universe–is intelligent, that the wisdom that makes the mustard seed transform into a tree also keeps the planets spinning and also makes my finger nails grow. And if it can hang a star in the sky and it can bring two strangers together so one can encourage the other without even knowing it, then that wisdom can certainly figure out my hospital billing. And if the first CT scan was off by nine degrees and my favorite number is nine, that’s probably not an accident, so it’s probably just God letting me know he has something up his sleeve again, just like he had this blog up his sleeve when I moved in with Mom and Dad. To me, it may look like sloppy work, but that’s probably because, until now, I’ve been too busy organizing my sock drawer to notice that not only is God interested in me, but he’s also trying pretty hard to get my attention. And at least when I consider the heavens, I think that for God too, everything has its place. So surely that includes me. Surely I’m right where I need to be.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Perhaps this is what bravery really is--simply having run out of better options, being so totally frustrated by the outside world that all you can do is go within.

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