One Stitch at a Time (Blog #672)

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Today I’m generally content. This is a phrase my therapist uses a lot, generally content, that feeling somewhere in between being on top of the world and having the world on your shoulders. For me, it’s not feeling fabulous, but not feeling unfabulous either. It’s loving the results of your new diet, but not loving the fact that you just ate chicken and rice for the third time in two days. Generally content–it’s that feeling you get when you finally embrace your age and the fact that you enjoy a good prune.

So sue me.

This afternoon and evening I’ve done a little of this, a little of that. That is, I read in a book, watched an old television show on my laptop, did my knee rehab exercises, and knitted. Yesterday my friend Bonnie gave me my first official pattern or project–a pot holder that has the word HI stitched in the middle of it. When it’s finished it will be a square–36 rows with 36 stitches each. (That’s 1,296 stitches.) Tonight I spent about an hour doing the first six rows. (That’s 216 stitches.) Right at the end some stitches slipped off one of the needles, but after a lot of concentrated thinking, I figured out how to fix them. Phew.

I plan to go to the gym whenever I get done blogging. I went last night and tried a few new exercises, some for my knee, some for the rest of me. Y’all, at one point, while I was standing on one leg and passing a weighted ball from one hand to the other, I actually found myself having fun. What the hell–having fun at a gym?! Now, despite that fact that I’m often intimidated at the gym and am afraid of not knowing what I’m doing, I’m thinking about adding in some other exercises tonight. Because the truth is, I don’t really know what I’m doing. Granted, I’m no stranger to the gym, this isn’t my first workout rodeo, but I mean in general I’m not a pro. I’m not a pro at knitting, not a pro at working out. Fortunately, it turns out you don’t have to be a pro to either get good results or enjoy yourself.

This also applies to dancing, cooking, and love-making (I’ve heard, Mom).

I’ve blogged about it before, but it’s really been on my mind today that a little bit at a time goes a long way. I’m reading this book about resetting your body’s nervous system (in order to eliminate tension and pain), and it emphasizes that all the exercises should be done SLOWLY. It says, even if you just feel a SLIGHT feeling of relaxation, that’s significant. And whereas my inner completionist just wants the results, I know this is how results manifest–a little bit here, a little bit there. As in knitting, progress comes one stitch at a time.

Earlier I realized that it’s basically been two months since my knee injury. The accident happened December 1, and today is the last day of January. Just over sixty days, and so many of those days I’ve wanted to cry or pull my hair out it’s been so frustrating. But shit, look how far I’ve come. I’ve had surgery. Now I can walk without crutches. I can’t dance yet, but I’m making other noticeable improvements week by week. If things go according to plan, in one more month I’ll be jogging. A month after that, it’ll be spring; it’ll be warm out. Yes, this is doable. I’m gonna dance again, me and my constantly cold feet are gonna make it through winter, and I’m gonna get that potholder done.

One stitch at a time.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We don’t get to boss life around.

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Return on Investment (Blog #670)

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This morning I woke up to a voicemail from my dermatologist. “Call us about your results,” it said, which I assumed had to do with to the moles I had taken off recently. Shit, I thought, I have cancer. Super optimistic, I know. That’s me, always assuming the best. As it turns out, the results they were referring to was a test I had done last year at another dermatologist’s office (when my regular dermatologist didn’t take my insurance), a test I was previously told said I had “an inflammation whose cause is unknown.” (The problem went away after I changed washing detergents, but I’ve had other similar issues lately.) My dermatologist’s nurse said the report actually said my skin irritation could have been caused my mites, like scabies. (Ick, gross.) So just to be on the safe side, now I’m on an anti-parasite medication.

This is my life.

Alternatively, the report said I could have contact dermatitis. So maybe in a couple weeks I’m going to get tested for skin allergies. And whereas all of this sort of wears me out, I’m glad that my dermatologist is being aggressive and doing her best to figure out what’s going on. The way I see it, the more information I have, the better. When I walked into the bathroom this morning, I noticed my tongue was black. Again I thought, Cancer. But it turns out it was just a result of having taken Pepto-Bismol last night. My point being, despite my tendency to freak out, I’m learning to trust that everything is going to be fine.

This afternoon I had physical therapy for my knee, which I had surgery on last month. I go to this office with several therapists who all work together, and today I ended up with someone I haven’t seen before. She said she’d had three knee surgeries–three!–including one ACL repair like I had. This was super encouraging, since she was running around the therapy center like a jackrabbit and said now she never thinks about her surgeries. “It gets better,” she said. “Just be patient and follow the protocol and you’ll get to where you want to be.” So this is my new mantra. Be patient. Follow the protocol.

This evening I made dinner–chicken and rice. Oh my gosh, y’all, do you have any idea how long it takes to make rice? Fifty frickin’ minutes. What the hell? It took over an hour to put my entire meal together and only seven to eat it. Where’s the return on investment?

Ugh. It occurs to me that in order to appreciate anything, you’ve got to put your time or money into it. You’ve got to be patient, follow the protocol. For example, after a year of seeing doctors, I appreciate my health more than I ever have. After having injured my knee, I want to run (well, walk) out into the streets and shout, “Do you know how lucky you people are because you have two working legs?!” And despite my joking about how long my meal took to cook, I did enjoy it more than I would have a fast food burger. Not only was it healthier for me, but I made it, and there’s a certain amount of pride in that. (I boiled rice!) So I guess that’s the return on investment, that warm fuzzy feeling you get when you know you’ve worked hard for something, be it your health (including your mental health), your ability to walk, or even your supper.

And, especially in the midst of winter, let us never underestimate the importance of a warm, fuzzy feeling.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Life doesn’t need us to boss it around.

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Pancakes and a Secret Handshake (Blog #665)

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It’s ten at night, and I have a headache. A few hours ago I took a nap hoping it would go away, but it didn’t. Instead, it got worse. I hate that–and the fact that whenever I don’t feel well I scare the shit out of myself imagining what could be wrong. Once I had a boyfriend who gave me a diagnostic health book that always gave the worst case scenario as the answer to any given problem. Like, oh, your stomach’s upset? It’s cancer. Or, your foot hurts? It’s gangrene. And whereas I thought the gift was cute, I threw it away after we broke up. First, I didn’t need the reminder. Second, no hypochondriac with a headache should ever allow themselves daily access to such a book.

Or the internet.

This afternoon I saw my friend Bekah, who cuts my hair. (I went for a trim.) When we talked about my recent knee surgery, Bekah said that she’s had three–on the same knee–then added, “Welcome to the club of I Can’t Believe This Is My Fucking Life.” Is that great or what? I told her it would be my quote of the day. But seriously, I’m glad to know there’s a club. I’ve always wanted to be in one. With any luck, next I’ll find out we have regularly scheduled pancake breakfasts (in the afternoon, of course) or maybe even a secret handshake.

Pancakes and a secret handshake would be the best!

I don’t know what to blog about today. Getting my hair cut was my “big thing” for the day, other than going to two health food stores in search of non-ultra-pasteurized milk. And whereas the first one said they didn’t have it but could special order it, or I could be one of those people and get raw milk from a local farm (“Their number is on that bulletin board,” the lady said, “but you’ll have to bring my own container”), the second one did. Thank God, after my experience at the first store, I was really starting to worry that I’d have to turn my life upside down to get a half-gallon of non-ultra-pasteurized milk. Instead, I just had to turn my wallet upside down. It cost $6.39!

That’s nearly $13.00 a gallon.

This super expensive magic milk, which as I understand it is simply–milk, is for a fermenting project one of my friends is helping me with tomorrow. We’re going to make our own kefir. Well, we’re going to make my own kefir, since my friend already has theirs. That’s apparently the deal, in order to make your own, you first have to be given a starter kit from someone else who already has one (or buy it on the internet). Anyway, I’ll know more about the whole process tomorrow. Also, if you have no idea what the hell I’m talking about, kefir is a fermented dairy product similar to yogurt except it’s runnier. That is, you can drink it. I’m interested in it because it’s supposed to be high in probiotics, and everyone who’s paranoid about their health is into probiotics. Granted, you can buy it at the grocery store (and I often do), but supposedly making your own is cheaper, even after you pay all that money for milk that obviously comes from cows with golden udders.

Now it’s eleven, and I’d like to end this so I can go to the gym and do physical therapy. Recently I started a stretching routine (that a friend told me about and is on public television) in addition to physical therapy, so I’m spending a good part of my day counting repetitions. Thankfully, as a dance instructor, I have no problem with this. At least until I get to eight. Anyway, I’m doing both the stretching routine and the kefir thing tomorrow because I’m hoping they’ll help me, the stretching with my headaches, the kefir with my stomach. And whereas I’ve been doing the stretching for two whole days (!) and my head still hurts, I’m telling myself that some things take time. (That’s a joke–everything takes time.) But really, so often I want to ditch good habits when I don’t see immediate results rather than stick with them and be patient.

Maybe you’ve felt this way before.

Personally, I’ve felt like giving up more times that I can count. I think, I’ve exhausted every option, and nothing is working. But then–eventually–I remember the universe is large and no, I haven’t exhausted every option. And because there’s something in me that refuses to give up, I take a deep breath and try again. Surely something will work. There’s that verse in the Bible about the person who had their prayer answered simply because they were so damn persistent, because they didn’t quit asking. The squeaky wheel gets God’s grease or whatever. Anyway, maybe you can’t believe this is your fucking life, but I think there’s hope for whatever it is you’re going through, so keep trying. And even if nothing works, I definitely know a club you can join.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"I believe we're all courageous, and I believe that no one is alone."

On Doing Difficult Things (Blog #659)

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It’s 11:30 at night. An hour and a half ago I sat down to blog but have been procrastinating ever since by cleaning out my email inbox and searching online for alternative health solutions. I really don’t know what to talk about today. Once this afternoon and once this evening I practiced knitting, and I’d rather be doing that. Or reading a book. Or watching Netflix. (The fifth season of Grace and Frankie just came out.) Really, I’d rather be doing anything else but writing. Oh look–there’s a jar of peanut butter.

Eating peanut butter sounds like a good thing to do.

Last night after blogging, I went to the gym. I really like going late at night; there’s hardly anyone there. That being said, because my gym’s not open late on the weekends, today I went this afternoon. And whereas there were some hot bodies to look at (well, one in particular), it was definitely more crowded and less fun. Hell, I thought I was gonna have to fight an old lady for the last available exercise bicycle. Thankfully, she was apparently eyeing another piece of equipment. But still, I usually have all five bikes to myself, and today I felt crowded. I guess conspicuous is a better word. In my opinion, my rehab exercises look weird. You know how you assume everyone’s staring at you constantly, even though they’re not.

The truth–nobody gives a shit what you’re doing.

When I got home from the gym, I took a nap. Because my achy leg wakes me up constantly during the night, nap time is the best part of my day. It’s fabulous. Also, this lack of solid sleep thing is a drag, a serious drag. Even now, despite the nap, I’m finding it difficult to concentrate or string two thoughts together. My mind and body are just done. Go back to sleep, they’re saying. Maybe this is why Netflix or knitting sound appealing. Neither requires much mental power.

Hum. That’s something. I just said knitting doesn’t require much mental power, which means it’s getting easier. (I just learned a few days ago.) That’s good. Likewise, doing my rehab exercises and going to the gym are getting easier. They’re becoming part of my routine. Not necessarily a fun part, mind you, but a part nonetheless.

Where am I going with this?

I said earlier that I didn’t want to write tonight. Still, here I am writing, so clearly a part of me does want to write tonight. Sometimes people say I’m disciplined–I write every day, I do my rehab exercises consistently, whatever. And whereas I agree that I’m disciplined in these areas, since I know there are areas in my life in which I’m not disciplined, I usually just think of myself as being “sold on” these activities that I consistently do. That is, I really want to be a writer and am sold on the idea that writers write. I’m sold on the idea that if I do this every day for a certain period of time, I’ll learn something valuable. Along the same lines, despite the fact that I hate having injured my leg, I’m sold on the idea that if I do my rehab exercises, I’ll get better. One day I’ll run again; one day I’ll dance again. So I do the thing even when I don’t feel like it.

I guess that’s my point tonight. If it’s worth doing–if there’s some reward on the other side of doing it–you’re probably rarely going to feel like doing it. It’s not a warm, fuzzy message, I realize. It’s just the truth. There is a warm, fuzzy part, however. Once you do the thing, then the good feeling comes. For example, now that this blog is over, I’m glad I did it. I feel a sense of pride, of accomplishment that no one can take away. So that’s the deal–a part of you will never feel like doing the difficult thing–never. Whatever it is, it’s difficult for a reason. That is, it’s not fun. But a great part of you will always feel good after having done the difficult thing–always. The fun comes after the fact.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Rest gives us time to dream. One day, for certain, you’ll wake up. And you’ll be grateful for the time you rested, and you’ll be just as grateful that you’re different, far from the person who fell asleep.

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Reminding Myself of the Facts (Blog #658)

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I don’t know why I’m smiling in today’s photo. It’s not like I feel fabulous. Lately I’ve just been going through the motions. This morning I got up early to meet a friend for lunch, which was lovely, and the sun even showed up for about five minutes. Imagine that–sunshine for the first time in over a week. But then the clouds took over again. Since injuring my leg, this is how my mood has been. Punctuated moments of sunlight–a smile here, some laughter there–followed by the clouds rolling back in.

Wah. Wah.

After lunch today I went to physical therapy. And whereas I showed up late (I had the appointment time wrong in my head), they fit me in. I really do like these folks–even when I’m scheduled to work with someone specific, they all chip in to help. Plus, everyone–the therapists, the patients–are in one big room together. I swear, it’s the best medicine, seeing people of all ages rehab-ing their broken parts. Today I met a teenage girl who tore her ACL while dancing (like me) and had the same surgery I did at the end of November. Anyway, she’s about three or four weeks ahead of me in terms of progress and her exercise regimen, and it was exciting for me to see a preview of coming attractions. (Except the part when her therapist bent her leg back and she said, “That hurts–everywhere.”)

When I got home from physical therapy, I took a nap. Naps, I’m finding, are the best thing ever, since I’m really not sleeping well at night. Every hour or two, my leg wakes me up. Then at some point, even though I’m tired, I can’t go back to sleep. But a good nap helps. This evening I slept for an hour and a half and woke up practically drooling. It was like I’d just come back from visiting another planet. I can’t wait to do it again tomorrow.

Now it’s 10:30, and whenever I finish the blog, I’m going to my local gym to do more knee rehab. As my goal is to be there once a day for leg related stuff, I’m hoping that sooner or later I’ll pick up some biceps through osmosis. Wouldn’t that be great? Then maybe someone’s flat stomach could magically rub off on me. Or just rub on me, I’d settle for that. (That was a sex joke, Mom.) But seriously, even when I’m in a gloomy mood, I enjoy going to the gym, especially late at night when hardly anyone else is there. Then I can listen to my music, do my thing, and not be bothered.

Whenever I get overwhelmed by my emotions, I have to remind myself that just because I think a thought, doesn’t mean it’s true. Just because I feel something, doesn’t make it gospel. Like, a few good friends have checked in on me today, so this evening I’ve been reminding myself that I’m not alone even when I feel like I am. Likewise, I’ve been telling myself there’s significant progress that will happen over the next month (as evidenced by the girl I met this afternoon), even though I feel like my current limitations are permanent. And whereas my reminding myself of “the facts” doesn’t immediately change my mood, it does keep me from spiraling out of control. It does keep things from getting worse.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Even a twisted tree grows tall and strong.

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On Emotional Support (Blog #654)

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Last night in Nashville we went out for our friend Mallory’s birthday. Y’all, I don’t mind saying it was an effort. For whatever reason, despite the fact that we were at a hip restaurant (The Goat) surrounded by lovely people, I just couldn’t quite turn it on. What’s the saying? My heart wasn’t in it. Still, I tried to be pleasant and managed to hang in there until the very end. When things concluded, it was one in the morning, and we were at a smoke-filled, karaoke-singing, dive bar. (Use your imagination. If you need help, think The Fifth Circle of Hell.) Then we came back to where we’re staying (my friend Bonnie’s son’s house), and I passed out hard.

By that I mean I woke up every two hours to reposition my bum leg or use the bathroom.

Today none of us got up before noon, and we all took our time getting ready. After doing my rehab exercises and eating breakfast, I took a shower, and I can’t tell you how proud I was of myself for cleaning up. Sad that I now consider bathing a personal triumph, but I do. (Everything is such an effort.) This afternoon Bonnie and I ran some errands then went to Mallory’s house so Mallory could open her birthday gifts from Bonnie. There I did more rehab exercises and took this silly photo with Mallory’s pink mask and superhero cape. Don’t ask why she owns these things. (Ask why you don’t.)

Here’s how I know I’m not completely beat. I still have a sense of humor. Sure, everything tires me out, and I don’t have a lot of enthusiasm for life right now, but I can still laugh. That’s something. Last night at The Goat, there was a book about a rescue farm for actual goats, and it included a picture of a goat with no hind legs. Instead, it had a contraption with two wheels strapped on, so it could use its front legs and pull itself around. Anyway, first I laughed, then, remembering my bum leg, I cried. I thought, I understand, little goat. I understand.

Another thing at the restaurant last night. In the men’s restroom, there was writing on the walls and mirrors. Like, one mirror said, “So fresh,” and another mirror said, “So clean.” But the writing that I loved the best was inside the stall and had arrows pointing to the handrails by the toilet. It said, “Emotional support.” Talk about clever.

Emotional support. What a big deal. Lately I’ve been seriously dragging ass, and–I don’t know–it’s been easy to feel like a burden to others. There for a few weeks when I couldn’t walk, my parents were making me meals, bringing me my laptop, whatever. Even now that I’m more mobile, my friends are walking slower to accommodate me. Last night my friend Bonnie sat with me when I didn’t feel like socializing, and not once this weekend has indicated that I needed to hurry up or even be up, physically or in spirits. Talk about emotional support–no one making demands on me to be any different than I am in this moment.

For this, I am grateful.

This support is something I’m still processing. Hell, I’m still processing this whole experience. Most the time, it doesn’t seem real. I wake up in the middle of the night, stand up to use the restroom, my leg falters, and I think, Oh yeah, this is real. This afternoon I told someone I was a dancer but that it’d be six months before I could dance again. Shit, this is real. In some moments, I can see the light. In others, I can’t find even a twinkle. But I’m discovering this is part of the journey, to allow myself to be both happy and sad, to feel both hope and despair. And this is all I can come up with right now for a conclusion, that some challenges in life are simply big. Massive, they come to us uninvited (who’d choose them?), stretching our heads and hearts, inviting us to let more support in, more love in.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"There are a lot of benefits to being right here, right now."

The Ten-Cent Turnaround (Blog #653)

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A couple weeks ago I started a new medication for my upset stomach. However, I forgot to pack it (the medication, not my stomach) for my trip to Nashville, where I am now. No big deal, I thought, I don’t think it’s done much good anyway. Well, I was wrong. Last night (after eating pizza), I got the worst case of acid reflux, and it woke me up several times during the night. Between that and my knee that I recently had surgery on, I slept like shit. I was achy, nauseated, all the things. Still, I made it through the night.

This morning I got up early to do my knee rehab exercises. I’m seriously sick of them. It’s not a big deal to do them two or three times, but two or three times a day for two weeks has begun to take its toll. And it’s not like this routine is going to get any better. It’s going to be my life for a while–sleep (sort of), eat, rehab. Rinse and repeat.

I realize I’m whining.

A big part of my problem is not the fact that my life has been turned up side down. I’m perfectly capable of doing knee rehab two or three times a day for the foreseeable future. However, doing so takes almost all the energy I have. Almost everything does. Yesterday after I packed for Nashville and this morning after I got dressed, I felt like I’d run a marathon. And the day had just started. Today my friend Bonnie, her son Tim, and I met their family for brunch (today is Bonnie’s daughter-in-law Mallory’s birthday), and whereas I really wanted to be awake, alert, and lively, it was all I could do to just be present. I hate that, not being able to focus on anything other than my aching leg, my sore tummy.

Every party has a pooper, that’s why they invited me?

When we got to the restaurant, our party of seven was seated in a booth made for six. I was on the end, my left leg (and butt cheek) hanging off the side. But then the folks at the larger booth next to us left and suggested we take their table. So we did. And whereas it confused the hell out of the hostess and our waitress, we used my leg as an excuse. “He just had surgery,” one of Bonnie’s in-laws said. So that’s one good thing that came out of this damn situation. We got a bigger table. Happy Birthday, Mallory!

After brunch, Bonnie, Tim, and I came back to Tim’s place and all fell asleep. Talk about a good idea. Y’all, I crashed hard for a couple hours. Then I woke up and had a talk with myself. Okay, I said, it’s time to do rehab exercises. “Again?!” I replied. Yes, again, I said. This is the deal, I’m just working off willpower right now, trusting that as I do as I’ve been instructed, things will eventually improve.

I repeat–things will eventually improve.

Now I’m obviously blogging. I need to wrap up, since in an hour we’re going out to eat (again) for Mallory’s birthday. This time, I believe, there will be a big crowd, forty of fifty people, so I’m going to try to turn it on. Also, I’m going to try to get some antacids or something to hold me over until I get back to Arkansas. Anyway, I don’t mean to be a gloom merchant. It wasn’t my intent to kvetch. But sometimes life is an uphill climb, and that’s the truth. Recently my therapist said, “Given your background, I know it’s really difficult for you to believe that things can get better, but I’m telling you they can. Things can turn around on a dime.” So I’m trying to believe her and I’m trying to hope. I’m trying to hang in for the ten-cent turnaround.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Since one life touches another, we can never really say how far our influence goes. Truly, our story goes on and on in both directions. Truly, we are infinite.

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On Cognitive Distortions and Feeling Good (Blog #650)

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Yesterday, upon the recommendation of my physical therapist, I joined a gym–Planet Fitness. It’s like fifty cents a day, so that’s not bad. Anyway, my physical therapist said if I got hooked up with a gym and could exercise/rehab more on my own, I wouldn’t need to be in their office as often. Well, I spent all day today intimidated about going. You know how it is when you haven’t been to the gym in a while. Yesterday while I was touring the place, it was like everyone there had way bigger muscles than me. I guess I got–what do they call it?–the imposter complex.

Like, I don’t belong here.

This afternoon I did my rehab exercises twice at home, at least the exercises I could do without equipment. In between I took a nap, finished reading one book, and started another. Well, sort of started. Over four years ago, shortly after I began therapy, my therapist gave me a book about Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT), a psychological approach that (like The Work of Byron Katie) suggests that our suffering is directly related to the thoughts we think. And whereas I read about a third of it way back when, for some reason I never finished it. But then I pulled it off the shelf today as a prop for one of my exercises and decided to pick up where I left off.

This ended up being the perfect thing, as I applied some of the book’s techniques to my hesitation about going to the gym. For example, in addition to my rehab exercises, I’ve been wanting to try some resistance band exercises for my upper body, some stuff I saw online, but I didn’t really know where to start. I thought, If I can’t do this perfectly, I don’t want to do it at all. The book calls this All or Nothing Thinking, and, like the other Cognitive Distortions it lists, always leads to suffering and not Feeling Good. (The book is called The Feeling Good Handbook by David D. Burns.) Also, I thought, Other people will think I’m weird because I walk funny. The book calls this Jumping to Conclusions, which includes Mind Reading (assuming you know what other people will think) and Fortune Telling (assuming things will turn out badly).

Simply identifying these thoughts as Cognitive Distortions was enough for me to “snap out of it” and remind myself that 1) I’m no stranger to a gym and am capable of asking for help if I need it, 2) I’m going for my health and not for anyone else’s approval, 3) any progress is good progress, and 4) what other people think of me is none of my business, and besides, if they’re anything like me, they’re probably mostly worried about themselves.

So I went. Granted, I waited until this evening so they’d be fewer people (and more parking spaces), but I went. And get this shit–it was fine. For a little over and hour, I did my knee rehab exercises and even used the stair machine and stationary bicycle. (The only cardio machine I’m not cleared to use is the elliptical.) Plus, I did a couple sets of resistance band exercises. Part of me thinks, Yeah, but it was only twenty repetitions, but the book says that’s Discounting the Positive, the way you might brush off a compliment about how good you look by saying, “Ugh, I still have five more pounds to lose.” Never mind the fact that’s you’ve already lost thirteen.

So I’m not going to do that. Going to the gym is going to the gym. Twenty repetitions is twenty repetitions.

Before I left the gym, I realized I was actually having a good time, moving my body, learning new things, listening to my headphones. It was even nice to be around other people, even though I didn’t talk to anyone except the folks at the front desk. But I did see one girl who had a prosthetic leg, and that helped put things in perspective. I thought, I just injured a leg; I didn’t lose one. As much as anything, I’m proud of myself for going, for not only stepping outside of my comfort zone, but also for pushing myself ever so slightly.

Now it’s after midnight, and despite my nap this afternoon, I’m ready for bed. My body really wants to sleep. My brain, however, is thinking that I NEED to come up with a really great ending. The book would call this a Should Statement, as in, I should deprive myself of sleep and come up with something better than “the end.” But again, that line of thinking doesn’t lead to Feeling Good, so I want to recognize it for what it is–an imposter–a thought that doesn’t belong here. Or is at least one that’s no longer welcome. In it’s place I’m thinking, This doesn’t have to be perfect. You’ve done enough today. Give yourself a break.

The end.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Being scared isn’t always an invitation to run away. More often than not, it’s an invitation to grow a pair and run toward.

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Bending Is Trending (Blog #648)

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It’s 10:45 at night, and I’ve spent most the day in bed, either icing my knee, reading a book, or taking a nap. My body seems to want a lot of rest. I can’t imagine why. When I haven’t been in bed, I’ve been on the floor, doing rehab exercises for my left knee, which was operated on twelve days ago. And whereas for over a week there’s been a point at which my knee’s said, “That’s it, I’m not going any farther,” today something gave, and it went past that point. That is to say, now I can bend my knee more than ninety degrees. Let’s hear it for progress. Just in time for my checkup with my surgeon tomorrow.

Maybe I’ll get a gold star.

What’s fabulous about this progress is that a lot of pain wasn’t involved in getting there. In other words, I didn’t have to grunt and groan and force myself to bend my knee more. Rather, while doing a particular exercise, it was like I was no longer driving with the brakes on. Something simply let go, and I had more range of motion. Of course, it may be that certain muscles have become stronger and are able to pull more than before. I don’t know all the mechanics involved in moving one’s leg, but I have noticed that my left quad is starting to flex more, so that could be it. Regardless of the inner workings of my knee, I’m thrilled that my bending is trending.

Putting on pants will be much easier now.

Inspired by my friend Sweetie Berry, this afternoon I performed what she calls A Fifteen-Minute Miracle, which is a quick, simple act to organize your life, get yourself together, or move forward on a creative project. In my case, I cleaned up a piece of furniture in my room on which I’ve been stashing “everything” since before my surgery. And whereas it wasn’t a huge mess, things had piled up, since walking has been hard and it’s been easy to toss stuff there. Anyway, it took a couple miracle sessions to get everything thrown away, put up, or rearranged, but it really was easiest thing.

Here’s before.

Here’s after.

One of the things I had to decide while cleaning up was what birthday, thanksgiving, and Christmas cards I was going to keep. Typically I hold on to cards for a month or two then toss them. This is the minimalist in me; things don’t pile up that way. But today I decided to hang on to a few “special” cards and take a picture of a few others that touched my heart or made me smile. Anyway, I don’t think it’s a big deal to hang on to cards, and I also use throwing them away as a reminder to be as present as possible. What I mean is, whenever I throw a card away, I think, The past is over. This is my life now.

This is a mantra I’ve used a lot lately. The past is over. This is my life now. Earlier I watched an eight-year-old video of me teaching a dance class. God, how so much has changed–my haircut, my weight, all my clothes, and definitely my left knee. I kept looking at my legs move across the floor thinking, I wish I could do that. But this is a recipe for misery, comparing the now-you to the old-you. Recently I watched a video of Byron Katie walking in a cast. She says, “Am I slow or am I fast? If you don’t compare–don’t know, don’t know.” In other words, if we’re not measuring ourselves against our former selves or anyone else, we’re simply left with this moment, right here, right now.

Life’s funny. One day you can bend your knee, the next day you can’t, and then you can again. Your room’s a mess for a while, and then it’s not. Is one thing really better than another? No. More pleasant, maybe, but everything has its time. And whereas I often try to hurry things along and push-push-push my life and health in the direction I want them to go, the truth is that everything not only has its time, but everything takes its time. Which is hard, the fact that changes often happen so slowly. Granted, it’s good for growing character and patience, but not much else. (Oh wait, character and patience are kind of everything.) And so I come back to this moment, in which I’m learning to bend more than I thought I could.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Ultimately, we all have to get our validation from inside, not outside, ourselves.

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This Is Your Year (Blog #646)

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Last night I didn’t sleep well again. Achy leg and all that. Ugh, this injured leg of mine is really becoming an around-the-clock nuisance. Still, things are improving. I’m experiencing less pain whenever I stand up now, and it’s easier to bend my left knee than it was even a few days ago. This means that it’s easier to change pants, put on my shoes, and get in and out of the shower. Huge. Of course, I’m still walking like someone with a war injury, but everyone keeps telling me that will get better. “You’re doing great,” they say. “You’ll heal quickly,” they say. “You’re young,” they say.

“Could you repeat that last part?” I say.

This afternoon I ran an errand in Northwest Arkansas and came across a random sign that said, “This is your year.” And whereas I know the sign was put there for thousands of random shoppers and onlookers, it felt like it was put there just for me. Or rather, since I only went to that part of town on a hunch, for fun, maybe I was put there for it. Either way, I hope it’s right. God, I hope it’s right.

After my errand this afternoon, I came home, did my rehab exercises, and got stuck in my head. You know how sometimes a cloud surrounds you. Well, I’d planned to go to a party at the little theater (for anyone who’s been in or worked a show there this last year) and seriously considered ditching it. I thought, I don’t want to take a shower; I’d rather stay here and mope. But then I thought, Get out of the house, Marcus. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. This ended up being the best thing, cleaning up and putting on my suit. Hell, I even blow-dried my hair. Talk about feeling good.

The party tonight’s theme was “casino royale,” thus the giant playing card in tonight’s main photo. Anyway, it was absolutely fabulous. First of all, there was food. Second of all, there were dozens of friendly faces, all my favorite theater folks. Plus, all the members of our improv comedy group–The Razorlaughs–were there. All this to say that there was a lot of neck-hugging, catching up, and laughing. It was the perfect thing.

When I left tonight’s party, I walked out with friends and made tentative plans to hang out later this week. Then another (new) friend said, “We should get together sometime,” and I said, “I’d love that.” I don’t know, it was the weirdest thing, how I’ve had this cloud hanging around me the last few days (or weeks), and at some point this evening, it lifted. Maybe not completely, but a lot. And it’s not that any of my problems have changed or magically solved themselves. I still have a bum leg, still don’t know what I’m doing with my life, etc. But I was reminded tonight multiple times that I’m not alone, and that really does go a long way. Yes, a little friendship and a little encouragement are just the thing for cloud-parting.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Even a twisted tree grows tall and strong.

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