The Good Enough Club (Blog #910)

It’s 9:15 in the evening, and I don’t know what to talk about. Hum. This morning my dad and I got up early and drove to Oklahoma to pick up his sister (my aunt), who’s been visiting her son and grandchildren. I did all the driving because my dad’s recently had his driving privileges revoked by my mother. He’s having a pacemaker put in next week and has been told, “You could pass out at any minute.” Well, he’s stubborn. On our way to Oklahoma today he kept saying, “Would you like me to drive? What about now? I could drive us home. Is now okay?”

“No,” I said. “No, no, and no.”

I get it. It’s always frustrating to accept your limitations. Last year I had knee surgery to repair my ACL (which I tore when I jumped over someone’s head–well, it wasn’t the jumping part that hurt me, it was the landing), and even now there are things I can’t do. But seriously, when you’re used to going wherever the hell you want whenever the hell you want to, it sucks to be tied down (unless you’re into that sort of thing). It blows to be dependent on someone else, even if that person is glad to help you. All I can say is that it gets better. And even if it doesn’t (let’s face it, sometimes things don’t), your attitude can change.

Caroline Myss tells the story of a wheelchair-bound woman named Ruth, who when she was younger and fully mobile had an out-of-body experience and was shown by her guides (angels) that she would eventually become physically disabled. Obviously, this vision came true. But what struck Caroline wasn’t the angel experience but the fact that Ruth had the best attitude about her handicap. Ruth said something like, “Before this happened I was absolutely crippled by fear, and now the fear is gone. As far as I’m concerned, I’m free.” This is the power of the human spirit. Those things that challenge us, that we think are robbing us of something, can actually give us something far greater in return.

Ask yourself: Would I rather be free on the outside, or free on the inside?

For the last almost two months I’ve been painting the inside of a friend’s rent house. Room by room I’ve slowly made progress. Well, today I finished the kitchen, the last room in the main section of the house. (There’s also a garage area that we’re still deciding what to do with.) This is a weird feeling, working so long at something and then–in an afternoon–being done. It’s how I felt at the end of my leg rehab. Well, I made it. Sure, there’s always more I COULD do, both at the house and with my knee. Your inner perfectionist can always find more to do. But for a while I’ve really been buying into this idea of The Good Enough Club.

The Good Enough Club: Where Things Are Okay As They Are and Perfectionists Aren’t Allowed.

This being said, I’m glad my perfectionist was around for this painting job. He made sure certain spots got three coats of paint instead of two. He made sure I didn’t do a half-assed job. Still, is everything absolutely perfect? Of course not. First of all, it’s an old house. Second of all, there’s no such thing.

As I see it, it’s fine to be a perfectionist about certain things. It’s fine to have high standards. But you’ve got to be able to turn that shit off. Because if left unchecked your perfectionist will push you past the limits of reason. It will demand more of you than you can give. It will always find something wrong. This job isn’t good enough. This body isn’t good enough. The fact that I can’t (drive, walk, dance) isn’t good enough. I need things to be a certain way or I can’t be happy.

None of this, of course, is actually true. You can be happy from where you are.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Life is better when we're not in control. When we mentally leave room for anything to happen, anything can.

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We Can Be Intentional (Blog #903)

Geez. It’s ten-thirty in the morning, and I’ve been wide awake for two hours. A self-avowed night owl, I’ve woken up at eight-thirty for the last four days, ever since I changed my diet and started intermittent fasting. Is this what skinny people do–wake up early? Metabolize?

I will not become a morning person, I will not become a morning person.

Last night my dad and I went to the gym after I finished blogging, about eleven-thirty. We started this routine last winter when I was doing rehab for my knee, but after six months of going every day or every other day, I rebelled. Fuck the gym, I thought. Of course, they kept charging me for my membership. Every month they take out eleven dollars. “It’s like giving your money away,” someone told me recently. Yes, it’s exactly like that. It is that. Anyway, although Dad’s kept up his routine, I just started back this week.

I can feel my six-pack already.

That’s a lie.

Normally I don’t write during the daytime, but today promises to be pretty long. In a while I’m going to lunch with a friend, then running an errand, then working out again, since unfortunately and apparently it’s not something you can do just once and see results. (Boo hiss). Then I’m cleaning up and going to a concert/dance. A client has hired me to be their partner/leader–oh hell, I’ll just say it–dance gigolo.

It’s all very glamorous, I know.

Anyway, since the event is out of town, it promises to be a late night. And since my body won’t let me sleep in anymore, if i write when I get home, I’ll be a zombie tomorrow. And that won’t do. That simply won’t do.

One thing I’ve noticed about intermittent fasting is that it’s allowed me to slow down. Normally, no matter what time I wake up, my day starts as soon as my feet hit the floor. I go to the bathroom, turn on the stove, crack open three eggs to scramble for breakfast. It’s a whole routine. After eating, I brush my teeth and am out the door–to work, whatever. But now that I’m waking up earlier and not eating breakfast, I have time–to think about the day ahead, to pray, to prepare, to be intentional. Intentional. That’s something I “intend” to be with this diet. Sunday night I made a list of things I wanted to do this week–eat according to plan, dance, work out three times, go for at least one walk, bleach my teeth. I plan to make (reasonable) lists like this every Sunday night for the next year so I can both evaluate my progress and continue to see results. It’s not difficult, but it does require slowing down.

Good health doesn’t just happen.

Especially in the world of dollar menus.

Crap. Now I’m thinking about double cheeseburgers.

Whenever I’m gone from the gym for a while, I feel guilty. Because I haven’t been loyal. Because I haven’t been a good gym student. Because I’ve gained ten pounds. I imagine when I walk through the door for the first time in a while that the staff will passive aggressively say, “Where have you been–Porky?” Of course, this never happens. When Dad and I returned to the gym this week, the said, “Hey guys!” and that was it. This is what I’ve been thinking about this morning, that the gym welcomes you back with open arms. It’s simply this space to work out in, and all you have to do is show up (and pay). Whenever you’re ready. Likewise, there are few things in life that push us along, that demand that we get out of bed, go to work, and fill every minute of every day with–stress. I mean, maybe you have a demanding spouse or kid, but for the most part, you’re the one who pushes you. (The truth–even if you have someone demanding in your life, you’re the one who pushes you.) I’m the one who pushes me.

The good news is that at any point, we can slow down. At any point, we can be intentional.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Both sunshine and rain are required for growth.

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Ignorance Is Not Bliss (Blog #789)

Today was therapy and therapy day. First I saw my regular therapist, then I saw my physical therapist. Now I’m so healthy I can’t stand myself. One of the techs at physical therapy noted that I was “still coming.” My physical therapist said, “He’s addicted to the pain.” I said, “I’m addicted to the progress.” This is what I’d say about regular therapy too–by simply showing up and doing the work, I realize consistent positive results.

Why wouldn’t I keep going?

Two weeks ago at physical therapy I hopped on one leg for the first time. And whereas it wasn’t pretty, it was something. Today that exercise was easier. Still not pretty, but easier. Then I jumped off a step with two legs and landed on one leg (my left, the one I had surgery on). “Like hopscotch,” my physical therapist said.

“Uh–it’s been few years,” I said.

“You know you’re in a hopscotch league,” another physical therapist chimed in.

“Yes, and I also do double-dutch jump rope on Saturdays,” I answered.

Landing on one leg was rough–shaky–but thankfully there was a rail to grab so I wouldn’t fall over. Shaky–that’s a good way to explain my experience with knee rehab. Sometimes my entire body quakes and quivers when I’m trying to lower myself down into a chair using only my left leg. Even still, I see progress. Today while lowering myself into a chair, I had more control than I’ve ever had since my injury (I tore my ACL six months ago). Also, with each new exercise, like the one-leg hopscotch landing, both my mind and body become less afraid. It’s like, Okay, we can do this.

At regular therapy, my therapist and I discussed Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I read an article about OCD recently that said sometimes it takes the form of “information hoarding.” Well, you know how you can Google a health problem and all of a sudden convince yourself you have a deadly disease? Since I download, buy, and borrow books faster than I can read them, I thought, I have that. I’m an information hoarder. My therapist said, “I don’t think you’re as extra as you think you are. You’re not hurting anyone, and you’re not cancelling social engagements or missing work to stay home and download books, play video games, or wash your hands. When you get to the point that your books are piled up so high that you can’t walk in your house, then come back and talk to me about having OCD.” Then she added, “Personally, I think more people could buy a few books.”

Right?

Along the lines of people being uneducated, my therapist said, “People say that ignorance is bliss, but that’s a really ignorant statement.” Then she explained that when people lead unexamined lives, sure, there’s a certain “what I don’t know won’t hurt me” happiness in that. “But the price of self-ignorance is strife, drama, passive aggressiveness, anger, anxiety, and internal tension,” she said.

Among other things.

In terms of self-ignorance, I don’t know many people–myself included–who would gladly admit, Gosh, I don’t know much about myself. For an answer as to why, I harken back to a recent question I asked (and have often asked along The Path)–How can you know what you don’t know? Simply put, you can’t. I’ve mentioned before that I took reiki and meditation classes for years from an excellent teacher who talked about boundaries consistently. And whereas I remember hearing what she said, it didn’t sink in. It never occurred to me that my boundaries were off, even though–I can see now–they were. Likewise, despite a number of less-than-ideal relationships (both platonic and intimate), I never realized I was repeating PATTERNS, going through the same drama over and over, just with different characters. Despite my constantly reading self-help books, it took my working with a therapist (a trained professional) for me to see these things.

In my experience, you’re probably not going to wake one morning and–bam!–suddenly identify the unproductive patterns in your life and WHY they are there in the first place. Sure, you may intellectualize that your mother did this or your father did that, but chances are you won’t be able to draw a line from your childhood relationships and situations to your current relationships and situations. Not because you’re stupid, but because they don’t call it the UNCONSCIOUS for no reason. So how do you know what you don’t know? How do you bring the UNCONSCIOUS up? Simply put, you look for signs then work backwards.

I’ll explain.

Things that are unhealthy leave their mark.

Recently my car, Tom Collins, has been making a squeaking noise. Since we’ve been through this before, I know the squeaking means I need at least one new brake pad. (I should probably do something about that.) My point is that when something is wrong, there’s usually evidence of it. When you’re sick, you’ll either feel tired, get a runny nose, start bleeding out of your ears, or whatever. Like a slug that leaves a trail of slime behind it, Things That Are Unhealthy leave their mark. This same principle applies to one’s mental, emotional, and relational health. That is, if there’s something that needs your attention, your subconscious will create flare signals. It will SEND UP stress, anxiety, nervousness, conflict, and any number of other uncomfortable feelings in an effort to get you to check yourself out (rather than be checked out–or self-ignorant).

I started therapy because I was in a terrible (horrible, no-good, very bad) relationship. Looking back, that relationship was a distress signal. And whereas I could have blamed the other person (and did) or simply told myself that all my uncomfortable feelings were “normal,” I was so miserable that I had to do something about it. I had to do something about MYSELF. Because that’s the deal–if you’re arguing with the people in your life or things aren’t working at work, the answer starts with you. Only YOU can do something about YOUR problems. At the very least, I think, you have to ask yourself, Why am I willing to entertain this bullshit? In my case, I thought, What is wrong with me that I’m ATTRACTED to someone who lies and cheats (and lies and cheats some more)?

From there, I worked backwards. With my therapist, I identified A HISTORY OF PATTERNS. Slowly, we worked at breaking those patterns, at setting boundaries first with myself then with others. And I do mean slowly. Just like learning to hopscotch again doesn’t happen overnight, you don’t become self-enlightened overnight. I’m not sure it can even be done in one lifetime. Caroline Myss says, “Consciousness is expensive.” This means that becoming self-aware and self-possessed is hard work, The Hard Work. This is why people say ignorance is bliss–because they don’t want to put in the effort. They want to believe that they can “go along to get along” or simply “accept Jesus as their personal lord and savior” and not have to work out their salvation with fear and trembling. This truly is ignorance. You don’t learn to double-dutch jump rope without putting the time in.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can be weird here. You can be yourself.

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On Being In Process (Blog #775)

This morning I went to therapy. When talking about something in her personal life she’s working on, my therapist said, “I can see it’s going to be a process. I’m just so impatient.” So this is a universal experience, wanting things to happen faster than they do. At least me and my therapist feel this way. Still, I’m learning to trust life’s pace. Recently I’ve been learning things about thoughts, emotions, and the physical body and have thought, It sure would have been nice to have known this twenty years ago! But would it have? I can’t say with any assurance that I would have even been ready for the knowledge (or experience) then.

Lately I’ve written a lot about Internal Family Systems, a psychological/spiritual perspective that proposes that our minds aren’t unified, but rather “multiple.” The idea is that we have many sub-personalities instead of one big one. This explains why one “part” of you, say, wants to eat cake and another “part” of you wants to go to the gym. Anyway, I’ve been all about this theory and listened to an audio program about it today. But apparently–I’d forgotten–I first read about Internal Family Systems several years ago in a book about trauma (which is excellent) called The Body Keeps the Score. Then I just skimmed over it, yet now I’m blabbing about it on the internet. All I can say is that I must not have been ready then. Now I am.

In other words, it wasn’t time.

I don’t know why things happen when they do. I mean, that’s a big question people have been asking for centuries, and I don’t intend to solve it tonight. That being said, earlier this evening I taught a dance lesson to a couple who’s about to be married (to each other), and I know that as a teacher I go in a particular order for a particular reason. There’s a saying that when the student is ready, the teacher appears, and it’s basically the same in dance. When the student is ready, the step will be taught. Anyway, I can only assume that God, life, or the universe educates all of us in the same manner. That is, when it’s time, it’s time.

Why? Because it’s time.

This afternoon I met with my physical therapist and was given a number of new exercises to rehab my left knee, which I had surgery on over four months ago. One of the exercises was jumping on one leg (the one I had surgery on). Y’all, this was anything but pretty. You think you know how to hop. Like, in your mind it goes well. But in your physical body, not so much. My therapist said, “Right now you can barely jump over a sheet of paper.” But then he added, “Don’t worry. It will get better.” Later when I was trying to balance on one leg (the one I had surgery on) and bend over at the same time, it was the same deal. I was shaky, unstable. My foot cramped. Still, my therapist seemed unconcerned. “Don’t worry. It will get better.”

My surgeon has said that it will take a full year to get my strength back. Until then, maybe even after, it’s just going to be a challenge–to stand one one leg, to hop, to go down stairs. Once again, we’re back to things being a process. We’re back to being patient. One (dance) step at a time. This afternoon I had a few spare hours, and The Learner in me really wanted to read. But the rest of me was physically exhausted, so I took a nap. You do what you have to do. They’ll be time for learning later. Or I guess you could say that I did learn something–how to rest and better take care of myself.

Besides, you can’t do everything in one day.

Recently I read that everything in the universe is moving. Even solid objects, though they appear stable, are made up of vibrating atoms. Even if this weren’t the case with, say, your coffee table, it’s still hurtling through space at a (literally) astronomical speed. The point is that nothing in life stands still. Everything has been, is, and forever will be “in process.” Sure, one day I’ll be able to say that I can hop on one leg, but then there will be some other goal to focus on, some other thing I’d like to do with my new, fan-dangled knee. One day I’ll be able to say I’m “done” with the book I’m currently reading, but then there will be another book and another. And even with books I’ve “finished,” the ideas in them will still be with me, most likely growing and changing into other ideas. One thing leads to the next. Nothing is ever truly done.

Patience, it seems, is accepting this fact, accepting life as it is right here, right now.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You know when someone crosses a line. You may not want to admit it, but you know.

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On Motivation, Belief, and Self-Empowerment (Blog #764)

It’s eleven at night, and I’m house sitting. This, often, literally amounts to sitting (or lying down) in a house and getting paid for it. This afternoon I rushed out the door to meet my dad and aunt at the gym and forgot my key. Well, I had my KEYS, but not THE KEY to the house where I’m staying. So I locked myself out. I hate when I do this. (I do this a lot.) Thankfully, I’d left a window open, so when I got back later, I just crawled through it. I say just, but I had to climb up on a chair, crawl halfway through the window, balance myself on my stomach like a see-saw, teeter myself down into the bathtub on the other side of the window, support myself with my arms, then finally bring my legs in for a B+ (somewhat wet) landing.

Seriously, I felt like I belonged in Cirque de Soleil.

Once I had a middle-aged student tell me they tried to keep themselves in shape in order to have more options. That is, if they got the chance to go roller skating, hiking, or dancing, they wanted to be able to say yes. They didn’t want to HAVE to say no because their body couldn’t perform because they hadn’t cared for it. This story has stuck with me, and I feel the same way. I want to be able to dance, run, um, crawl through windows well into my senior years. I want to be able to travel, hike, play with my nephews. Sure, I know shit happens beyond our control. Recently I busted my knee up (sort of my own fault, but I wasn’t PLANNING ON busting it up) and had to have surgery. But on a daily basis I have a choice about how I re-hab the damn thing, whether I stick with my program or not.

Some people say I’m motivated in terms of my leg. Recently I shared with someone how writing every day has truly transformed my life, and they said, “I wish I could find that motivation.” UHH–I don’t know what to tell you. Personally, I don’t think of myself as all-the-time motivated because I think motivation is fleeting. You get excited about something–feeling better, starting a project–and there’s this window. You think, Okay, I’m going to start. Or not. But after that, either way, the window closes, meaning, the excitement fades. After over two years of blogging or four months of rehab do I consider myself motivated? Not really. More than anything, I’m committed–because I know this stuff works. Said another way, I’ve gone from being motivated to believing.

That’s the ticket–belief. Motivations make you TRY. Beliefs make you CONTINUE TO ACT.

That’s nice to hear–that I believe in what I’m doing. (Sometimes I don’t know things until I write them down.) But I guess I do. At some point over the past few months I’ve begun believing that as I continue to do my leg rehab I’ll get back to doing the things I love–running, jumping, dancing. At some point over the last two years, I’ve begun believing in this process of sitting down daily (uh, nightly) to meet myself and figure things out, to heal. This is to say that I’ve come to believe in myself, that I know no matter what life throws at me, I can handle it, that even if no one else can, I can be there for me. This, I think, is called self-empowerment and is perhaps the closest thing you can get to solid ground in an unpredictable universe like the one we live in, where shit happens, where you can lock yourself out of a house or bust your knee up just as easily.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Kindness is never a small thing."

With Practice (Blog #715)

Praise the sweet baby Jesus. After feeling like crap for the last few days, as of this morning–and I do mean morning–I feel better. Once again, the credit goes to the miraculous probiotic/bacteria L. Sakei, which I received a new batch of in the mail yesterday afternoon and used three times before going to bed last night. No shit, y’all, I woke up at four this morning bright-eyed and ready to go. I eventually fell back asleep, but talk about getting your energy back. The previous two nights I woke up hot and sweaty. But as of four, I’ve been back to my normal-temperature self. Fingers crossed this trend continues.

This afternoon I went to Fort Smith to see my chiropractor and massage therapist, as well as to return a pair of crutches I borrowed from a friend over three months ago when I injured my left knee. Boy, did giving those suckers back feel good. For nearly a month I needed them to traverse even the shortest of distances, but this evening when I went to the gym, I was able to jog on the treadmill for twenty minutes, unassisted! (I mean, crutches on a treadmill would be totally awkward.) But, eeek, I really have come a long way. That being said, I may have overdone it on the treadmill. My knee was a bit swollen when I got home, so I had to ice it. Oh well, I guess it’s normal to have little setbacks.

Little setbacks. That’s what I consider the sinus infections that have creeped up on me lately. And whereas part of me is frustrated that I’ve had to deal with them at all, another part of me is thrilled because what used to last anywhere from seven to fourteen days (or more) is now over in forty-eight to seventy-two hours. Plus, my former sinus infections often involved doctors, prescriptions, and multiple swipes of my credit card. But now I’m knocking these things out from the privacy of my own home for a mere thirty-five bucks (the cost of the probiotic) or less (if I have some of the product left over). So maybe my sinuses aren’t perfectly healed or “normal” like everyone else’s (whatever that means), but THIS IS HUGE PROGRESS.

HUGE.

Whenever I have a health setback, I’m reminded what a blessing good health is. This afternoon when I dropped the crutches off I borrowed, my friend and her husband and I visited for over an hour and a half. Not once was there an awkward pause or did I think, I wonder what we’ll talk about next. Rather, we laughed and laughed. Seriously, it was one of the best times I’ve had lately. All thanks–I kind of hate to admit–to my hurting my knee.

So you know, silver linings.

But really, when you’ve been sick and finally feel better, there’s so much joy in the simplest of things–visiting with friends, going to the gym, watching a television program (which I did before starting tonight’s blog). It’s like, Hey, I feel good. I’m ALIVE. What can I do now?

After having sinus infections for decades and finally finding something that works, what I can say is that “it gets easier.” What I mean is that–apparently–it’s not that I’m never going to get a sinus infection again. But having done the hard work in terms of seeing doctors and doing no small amount of internet research, I now know what to do about them. Likewise, I know what to do when it comes to my knee rehab. Again, not that it’s fun or pleasant, but it’s less intimidating than it was when it first happened because I’ve walked–or more accurately hopped, lurched, and scooted–this road before. This thought applies to the work I’ve done in therapy too. Over the last five years, I’ve gotten a lot of practice setting boundaries, having confrontations, speaking my truth, and listening to my gut. And whereas I wish I never had to have a difficult talk ever again, that’s not realistic. But since I’ve done it before, I know I can do it again. Indeed, with practice, anything gets easier.

Want something to get easier? You know what to do.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You know when someone crosses a line. You may not want to admit it, but you know.

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Boys, Frosting, Food, and Clothing (Blog #705)

Today has been fabulous and makes me glad to be alive. I can’t say why it’s been fabulous exactly, but I’ll try. This morning I woke up early, like eight-thirty, and began the day in quiet and solitude. This suites my personality, a slow, hushed start and a healthy breakfast. The menu today: scrambled eggs with turkey, spinach, and green onions; a side of pineapple; and hot lungwort tea. Lungwort’s supposed to be good for your lungs and decreasing mucus. Personally, I just like the way it sounds–lungwort. It’s so–medieval. I feel like a wizard every time I say it.

The reason I got up early was to see my therapists. Yes, I have more than one. It takes a village. First I saw my mental health therapist, the one this blog is named in honor of, my shrink. A few months ago I had a dream about a giant snake in a swamp, and recently I had another dream about a giant snake on land. The second snake tried to bite me, and I was terrified but ended up controlling it. When I told my therapist about these dreams, she said, “What do you think of snakes?” I said, “I think they’re strong and powerful.” Then she said, “Then that’s you. You’re the snake–you’re strong and powerful,” which made me want to cry. Weird how we don’t want to recognize our own best qualities, how we’re afraid of ourselves.

My therapist and I also talked about my future. I’ve been thinking lately I should get into an additional writing routine, force myself into a chair and bang my head against the table until a book falls out. My therapist, however, suggested that I don’t do anything until we talk again. “Reduce yourself,” she said. “Give yourself a break.” Then she added, “In the meantime, think about boys, frosting, food, and clothing.” So that’s what I did the rest of the day. First I ate a cream cheese bagel, then (after physical therapy) went shopping for clothes. And whereas I didn’t buy anything, I had a wonderful time looking. Well wait, I bought a new tape measure at the hardware store because my old tape measure broke recently. Anyway, the point is that I did NOT think about my future, even while I was eating a brownie tonight.

I’d like to emphasize I only ate the brownie because, well, doctor’s order’s, and I try to be a good patient.

At physical therapy, I got to jog (on a treadmill) for the first time since my knee injury and subsequent surgery. Well, okay, it was more like a fast walk (3.3 miles per hour), but it mimicked a jog. My physical therapist said this was the point, to simply get the motion. “It feels awkward,” I said. “That’s normal,” he said. Likewise, when I said that the hardest exercise I do is lowering myself down onto a step, he said, “That’s the last thing to come back. It just takes time.” Still, despite this fact, I see a lot of progress. Today I broke a sweat balancing on a Bosu ball, but the balancing was easier than two weeks ago; I didn’t have to use the bar in front of me to keep from falling over.

And did I mention I’m jogging!

While driving around today, I listened to a podcast about willpower. The speaker, Kate Galliett, said that willpower is depleted 1) by our feeling overwhelmed and 2) by our making a lot of decisions. That is, if you have to make a hundred choices at work during the day, in the evening you’re probably not going to have the mental reserves required for eating broccoli instead of cake, unless broccoli is already a habit for you. If it’s not, you’ll say, “Fuck it, I’m too tired” and reach for the red velvet. What I found most interesting, however, was that Kate said ANY decision you make depletes your willpower–including what statuses to like or not like on social media. Or what clothes you’re going to wear every day. This is why Steve Jobs had a uniform (or why you might want to set out your clothes the night before). Think about it–if you can only make so many decisions each day, why not save them for what’s important–your job, your health, your relationships.

Not necessarily in that order.

Honestly, I’m not sure why my therapist wanted me to “reduce myself” for a bit in terms of my writing routine and rather think about boys, frosting, food, and clothing. But my guess is that she knows I tend to wear myself out and thinks it would be wise to first sit down and get clear about what’s really important and what I want to accomplish. Because I do use my willpower a lot–to write this blog every day, to rehab my knee, to read a hundred books, to do half a dozen things I don’t always talk about here. And the podcast I listened to was right–willpower is a limited resource. Granted, it can replenish itself, but not if you keep pushing, pushing, pushing. At some point, you’ve got to chill out. You’ve got to give yourself a break.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Kindness is never a small thing."

On Playing the Long Game (Blog #704)

Lately I’ve been thinking about The Long Game. In terms of business, Amazon is playing a long game. That is, they’re not in a hurry; they’re not going anywhere fast. This is why their prices are so competitive; they don’t have to make a profit right this very minute (although they probably are). I’ve been thinking there are a lot of advantages to The Long Game, to not being in a rush or not being a fly-by-night operation. Take this blog project, for instance. Because I consistently do a little bit at a time, over time it adds up to a lot–a lot of words, a lot of sentences, a lot of paragraphs.

A lot of damn navel-gazing, if you want to know the truth.

The Long Game has been on my mind because I’ve recently undertaken a number of projects that can’t–no way, no how–be completed in a day, a week, or even a month. For example, rehab-ing the knee I injured three months ago–that’s a six-month project at least. Or running a half marathon, a goal I initially set a year and a half ago before I got so sick and then the knee thing happened and have just this last week recommitted to–that’ll take some time to get ready for, especially since I haven’t jogged in months and have never run more than eight miles (like Eminem).

This afternoon I went to the gym and did the elliptical. While bouncing up and down, my long hair kept getting in my face. This afternoon while my chiropractor was doing ultrasound on my neck (I apparently have a pinched nerve–yippee), he gave me a ponytail holder to pull my hair back. And whereas I appreciated the thought, my hair isn’t quite long enough for a ponytail. Or maybe I just don’t know how to bunch everything right. Anyway, while on the elliptical I kept thinking about cutting all my hair off. But then I remembered The Long Game, that in just another month or two it won’t be so awkward and I can pull it back if I want to.

I’ve been saying for a while that most everything takes time. More than trying to convince you of this fact, dear reader, I’m trying to convince myself. Thankfully, it’s sinking in. This evening I taught a dance lesson at my friends Todd and Bonnie’s house. It was for a couple getting married in a few months. Tonight was their second lesson. And whereas they’re catching on quickly and doing well, learning to dance doesn’t happen in an hour. It doesn’t (really) happen in a hundred hours. It takes thousands. It’s a long game. If you truly want to do it, at some point you have to get okay with that fact.

After the dance lesson, Bonnie helped me finish my first official knitting project–a potholder that says HI. I sort of  finished it last week, but I didn’t know how to “bind off” or wrap up the last row. Anyway, Bonnie taught me tonight, and now it’s done, kind of. Bonnie said there was ONE MORE step–blocking, which means soaking the project in warm, slightly soapy water, then letting it air dry in order to get the “waves” or unevenness out. Here’s a picture of the warm-water-soaking.

Here’s a picture of the air-drying, which is what’s happening as we speak (don’t you feel included?).

I’ve blogged before about making a few mistakes while working on this project, about how they sort of drove me crazy. However, as I finished tonight, I fell in love with my mistakes. After all, this is my first knitting project. It’s like my first child. I’m a proud papa. I think my kid is beautiful. (Don’t make fun of his birthmarks, or I’ll kick your ass.) But seriously, I think those mistakes are like the scars on my knee. They tell a story. Also, like the mistakes my dance students made this evening, they’re an important part of the learning process.

Bonnie says my next project should probably be a beanie, a cap. For sure, I’m excited to get started and to get finished. However, I really am getting okay with The Long Game, the idea that most things worth doing–working out, learning to dance, learning to knit, um, sorting out your past or healing your body–take committed and sustained effort. Not that you have to do whatever it is every day, every damn day (this blog even by my standards is excessive), but you do have to keep showing up. That and, I think, give yourself more time than you think you need. Say, I’m going to take a year, maybe two, to do this–get myself in shape, learn a new skill, write a book. Tell yourself, I’m going to play The Long Game.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You have everything you need.

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A Reprieve (Blog #678)

Well shit. After six weeks of rehab-ing my knee two to three times a day, which I was told to do, I was given a reprieve today. I’ll explain. This afternoon I had an appointment with my surgeon, who said my range of motion looked great. Then he said the swelling in my knee (oh, there’s swelling in my knee) was probably due to overuse. “Most people rehab a day, then take a day off,” he said. “I’m officially giving you permission to rest. It’ll take all of six months for your strength to come back, so don’t rush.”

Afterwards I met with my physical therapist, who confirmed, “Yeah, if you come here, you don’t need to do anything else for the rest of the day.” Ugh. That’s not what was said in the beginning. “Do your exercises two or three times a day.” So much for living in the golden age of communication. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled to be able to chill out. These exercises have been taking up two to three hours every day, and now I get to back off to about one hour every other day. Plus, instead of going to physical therapy twice a week, now I’ll only be going once a week or once every other week.

Here’s to sleeping in and saving gas money.

Since leaving the doctor’s and physical therapist’s, I’ve been in a mild state of shock. As a former straight-A student, I’m so used to giving a hundred and ten percent all the time. Work, work work. Push, push, push. What’s more, unfortunately, I’m used to giving, giving, giving, and it never being enough. If this sounds like a recipe for exhaustion and constant frustration and disappointment, it is. But these last few years I’ve been learning (slowly) that you don’t have to go balls-to-the-wall every minute of every day in order to get good results, and today was another reminder of this.

A slow and steady effort will do.

This evening I taught a dance lesson, my first since injuring my knee over two months ago and having surgery six weeks ago today. Y’all, it was the perfect thing, this darling engaged couple getting ready for their first dance. This meant I didn’t have to spend an hour dancing with someone and could limit my movements to demonstrations. And since they weren’t advanced, I didn’t have to turn or spin, which I’m not allowed to do anyway. I can’t say how much fun I had. Not only did I enjoy teaching, but the lesson got me out of the house and took my mind off my problems. Well, one problem in particular. Ugh, this is so important, having something worthwhile to focus on.

Tonight, for the third night in a row, my dad and I went to the gym together. And since I was given a reprieve from leg exercises for a couple days, I worked on my upper body. I’ve been studying some muscle-balancing exercises online, so my plan is to try a new thing or two each time I work out. I figure I’ve set aside time every day to focus on my body, so I might as well keep it up. But you know, not go too fast. This is really a big lesson for me, that I don’t have to overachieve all the damn time, that a smaller amount of effort, applied consistently, will get the job done.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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The more honest you are about what's actually happening inside of you, the happier you are.

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Five Pounds Is Five Pounds (Blog #673)

It’s 6:10 in the evening, and I’m rushing to get this done in thirty minutes because later I’m going out for dinner and to hear a friend play live music. This is a good exercise for a writer–try to tell a long story, try to tell a short story. (This is me trying to tell a short story.)

Last night at the gym, in addition to doing my knee rehab, I started working out my upper body. I don’t remember the last time I on-purpose did this. Maybe a few years ago. Anyway, it wasn’t pretty. When I worked out my shoulders doing lateral raises (in which you raise your arms straight out to both sides), I only used five-pound weights. Five freakin’ pounds. Granted, that exercise doesn’t require a lot of weight in order for you to feel it, but all I felt–was like a wimp. Later, when I saw a “dude” doing the same exercise with twenty pound weights, I wanted to go over and apologize. Like, I promise I’ll do better next time. As if he’d patented the movement and I were somehow an embarrassment to him.

Human are so neurotic.

Despite the voice in my head that stated otherwise, I was actually quite proud of getting started on my upper body workout. Hell, I did more last night in an hour than I have in the last three years combined. Probably just another visit or two, and my muscles will be so big I’ll need to go up a shirt size. (GRRR.) I don’t know, I think this is the deal. You’re always going to have those voices in your head telling you you’re not good enough, not as worthy enough. Call it your inner (insecure) child. But that doesn’t mean your inner (in charge) adult can’t have a say too. Hey, I’m good enough to be here. We’re doing something good for ourselves. Five pounds is five pounds. The journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step.

You know, shit like that.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Healing is never a straight line.

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