It’s 1:45 in the morning, and I’ve been putting this off for over an hour. I don’t feel well. I don’t feel awful, but I don’t feel well. I’m tired, irritable. My body is shaky (it has been for a while now), and it’s driving me crazy. I’m imagining that–on top of everything else–I have a neurological disorder, that I’m breaking down from the inside out. I’ve been Googling supplements all day, a compulsion that typically gets me nowhere. Maybe I’ll give up Google next year for Lent. But then again I’m not even Catholic. I guess I could convert, but that’d just be one more thing to do. Like my plate isn’t full enough already.

Get a grip, Marcus.

I’ve been thinking this would be a good way to start my autobiography, should I ever choose to write one: Thirty-seven, that’s how old I was when Meghan Markle married Prince Harry and my life fell apart. But then I don’t know where I’d go from there.

Get–a–grip, Marcus. (Focus.)

Today I spent the afternoon at Starbucks working on one of my travel writing stories, and that’s about it. I did run into an old dance student (who thought I was in Austin because everyone thinks I’m in Austin except me, who knows I’m not in Austin but instead living with my parents, who, incidentally, are not in Austin either) and had a lovely conversation. It always amazes me when something like this happens, randomly running into someone you haven’t seen in years and jumping right in with each, getting real. In the span of ten minutes, we talked about health challenges, going to therapy, and places where we consider ourselves to be weak. And I really don’t know this person that well. But the whole experience was so–refreshing.

It was the best thing that happened today. Being honest, that is.

This evening I taught a dance lesson to a student who thinks they should be progressing faster than they are. (They all do.) Having worked with hundreds of students over the years, I keep saying (truthfully) that they’re actually progressing faster than average, but you know how people can be their own worst critic. Anyway, here’s what I’ve been thinking about the situation. When you’re a new student, you don’t have anything to compare yourself to. If you do, it’s probably Dancing with the Stars, and THAT won’t make you feel good. But as an experienced teacher that works with everyday people who aren’t spending forty hours a week preparing for a competition, I can stand outside a student’s frustration and see that things are going just fine–they’re normal–everything is progressing as it should.

My friend and I talked about something similar today–the benefit of having a good therapist, someone who’s experienced in human relationships and emotions who doesn’t know you and can stand outside your drama and comment about what’s going on. There’s such a stigma about going to therapy, but who couldn’t benefit from a relationship like that? At one point in the last four years, I was dealing with a particularly difficult person in my life, someone I cared for but who came with excessive baggage (like more baggage than Rose had on the Titanic). “Why do you have this shit show in your life?” my therapist said. Blunt, I know, but no one else I was talking to was being blunt, and it was just the thing I needed to cause me to look at the situation in a different way, to realize that I could–change things.

Imagine that.

I told my friend today that sometimes I felt like the poster child for going to therapy, but it’s only because it’s been such a good and positive thing for me. I don’t pretend that it would be the same for everyone else, but I do think it’s worth trying, just like I think learning how to dance is worth trying. I mean, you already know how to sit on the couch or go to the movies or whatever it is you know how to do. Honestly, I think it’s fear that stops people from trying new things that could help them. Maybe embarrassment. I know there have been plenty of times I’ve actually felt apologetic as a dance student for not knowing something, not being better at something. I felt the same way in therapy when my therapist asked why I was putting up with such bad behavior. I thought, Why didn’t I know this already?

Of course, the answer is simple–because no one taught me. No one taught me how to dance or how to have healthy relationships (before they did)–probably because no one taught them. Likewise, no one (except for my therapist, who’s a professional) is teaching me how to navigate being thirty-seven, living with my parents, and having a health challenge (or two). After all, who knows these things?! Aren’t we all just figuring life out as we go along, aren’t we all just doing the best we can? This has been my experience, so I’m trying to get a grip and remember that it’s okay to admit you don’t know everything, that it’s okay to ask for help.