A Lighthouse (Blog #343)

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Now that my dad’s back from the hospital and is on a strict healthy-living plan, my family owns a new set of bathroom scales. (They’re the fancy kind with a digital readout, so try not to be jealous.) Y’all, if there’s anything positive about being chronically sick and having little to no appetite, it’s weight loss. This afternoon I used the new scales and found out that I’m lighter than I’ve been in four years. I’m thrilled, of course, but this news came as a complete shock. I mean, in terms of diet, I haven’t even been trying lately. I’ve been eating toast with butter and high-fructose-corn-syrup jelly for breakfast for weeks now. All those years of trying-trying-trying, and now that I’ve practically given up caring, the pounds are just sliding off. Go figure. Apparently all it takes is two rounds of influenza.

Uh–count your blessings?

Physically, I’m still worn out, but it could be a lot worse. Today I rallied long enough to do some paperwork, and I’m thinking I may get out of the house before the weekend is over. Also, I took a shower. Y’all, I hate that I consider this bragging–a little paperwork and a hot bath–but I do. God, there’s nothing like the flu on top of a chronic sinus infection to seriously lower your standards and dramatically shift what ranks as an accomplishment in your life. Hey, everyone, you better sit down for this–I bathed.

Emotionally, I have less to offer than I do physically. Yesterday I got some bloodwork back from my doctor, and today I got a message from her about it. She said my CBC results were normal and that my immunology results (which came back as “in range”) would need to be discussed with my immunologist. I’m assuming she said this because he’s the one who ordered the tests and he’s also the specialist–for a reason. At the same time, I hate having to wait an entire month in order to get any explanation at all. Lately my health feels like one of those rush-hour traffic jams caused by heavy construction or a five-car pile-up–like I’m going nowhere fast. It’s so frustrating.

If you’ve never felt this way, it’s exhausting. I don’t recommend it.

Don’t let anyone scare you straight.

I guess I’ve been exhausted for a while now. Some days are worse than others, but I’m honestly worn out by life. It feels like the universe has wadded me up and is running me back and forth across a washboard. I’ve talked to my therapist a lot about this, and recently she said, “Marcus, what are the two things I always tell you? First, don’t let anyone scare you straight. Second, whenever we are the most worn out, the most tested, that’s when something good comes along.” Then she added, “I can’t say this about everyone, but I never worry about you. I’ve never worried about you. I know something good is coming.”

Of course, I hope she’s right. The logical part of me realizes this storm can’t last forever. Still, there are days when it takes all the strength I have and then some to stay above water. On difficult days, I can’t tell you what a difference it makes to know there’s someone in your corner who isn’t judging you, someone who is believing in you and rooting you on. Whether it’s a therapist, a friend, or a family member, I think we all need that–a lighthouse–someone who stands strong in the midst of a storm, someone who helps us find our own way home.

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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Somewhere In Between (Blog #324)

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Last night I slept for twelve hours straight. When I woke up I had beans, rice, and cornbread for breakfast, then went back to sleep for four additional hours. (I imagine this must be terribly interesting to read about.) I understand that I’m sick, but I’m not sure where all my energy has gone. After breakfast, before my nap, I read ten pages in a book, and it felt like running a marathon. Now I’m propped up in a chair in the living room, proud of myself for being semi-vertical. In terms of flu symptoms, my throat is significantly less sore today.

So that’s something.

Almost three months ago I started practicing chi kung every day, for anywhere from fifteen to forty-five minutes a day. When the flu hit, I think I was at eighty days in a row. In order to “not quit,” I’ve been doing a two-minute chi kung routine this week. It’s an actual thing, basically a “when all else fails” option. I’ve been thinking of it like a placeholder, like, Don’t worry–I’ll be back. Well, I’m pretty sure there was a day earlier this week when I didn’t do chi kung at all. This week is kind of a blur, but I’ve been practicing at night, and I think there was an evening when I simply passed out after dinner without practicing.

This may sound silly, and I realize nobody else gives a shit, but the missed routine was a letdown. Just like blogging every day, I’ve worked hard to do chi kung every day. I’ve been really dedicated. It means something to me. I plan to get back with it, but now there’s a certain enthusiasm that’s been lost. I’m sure it’s my all-or-nothing thinking, but I’m not quite as proud to say, “I do this ALMOST every day.”

When I forgot about chi kung a couple days ago, I thought, What if I forgot to blog too? That thought really scared me. Of all the habits and routines I’ve had in my life, this is the one to which I’m most faithful. At least until I get to the one-year mark (and I don’t know what I’ll do once I get there), I can’t imagine skipping. If I did, talk about a letdown. Why I’ve attached so much meaning and importance to this project, I can’t exactly say. It’s certainly not about money. More than likely, it has to do with character, with making a promise to myself and keeping it. That’s probably it. Almost to the one-year mark, I can tell you that something happens when you keep showing up for yourself day after day, even when you don’t feel well. It’s like you start to trust yourself in a different way. It’s like, no matter what, you know you’re going to be there for you.

I hope I don’t miss a day with the blog, but speaking from my experience with chi kung, I know there’s grace available if I do fall off the wagon. I can just get back on again. Plus I’m learning that there’s value in doing some things “almost” every day. Not everything in life has to be all-or-nothing. Most things, in fact, are somewhere in between. That does seem to be where I keep finding myself, somewhere in between all and nothing.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If you want to find a problem, you will.

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We Don’t Get to Choose Our Winters (Blog #323)

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I’ve officially had enough. I’ve had the flu for six days, my parents have both had it longer, and everybody is over it. And yet, like the unwelcome houseguest that it is, it continues to linger. I’ve spent most of the last twenty-two hours sleeping. I fell asleep at nine-thirty last night after posting the blog and slept until after noon today, waking up only twice, once to eat and take some medication, once to use the restroom. Today I woke up for breakfast then immediately went back to bed. This is apparently my new routine–eat, sleep, eat, sleep some more.

When I am awake, I’m fully aware of my aching body–my aching hips, my aching throat, my aching eyeballs. I’m also fully aware that every body part I possess is capable of sweating, even my kneecaps. My bed sheets are beyond gross. Much like the t-shirt I wore for five days before I showered yesterday, they’re covered in sweat, snot, and dead skin. They look like a dandruff commercial. It’s disgusting.

Much like my physical state, my emotional one continues to drag. I’m irritable, short. I’m finding myself less than gracious. I’m ready to go back to sleep again, to wake up and find it springtime. When will this winter be over?

I’ve been thinking today about my strong tendency to fantasize a better future. I often imagine that “as soon as this winter is over, everything will be perfect.” I do this with my body too, imagine a time when I won’t have any problems. And yet each season has its challenges, just as each body does. My dad has benign essential tremors. Sometimes his hands shake so bad he can’t hold a cup of coffee. Grandpa had them too. (He doesn’t anymore because he’s dead.) I’ve noticed the last few years that sometimes my hands shake too. Not awful, but they do. I’ve been hyper focused on the tremors lately. I’d like them to go away. Still, they may be something I carry with me the rest of my life.

It seems we don’t get to choose our traveling companions, those illnesses and challenges that often shape us and make us who we are. We don’t get to choose our winters, or for that matter, how long they last. Rather, each day we have to choice to continue this journey, to set out once again on the unknown path regardless of whether the wind blows with us or against us, to put one foot in front of the other.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You’re exactly where you need to be.

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