On Winning the Hour and Returning to Balance (Blog #1051)

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Currently it’s 4:22, and I’m at the library. On Valentine’s Day. It’s sexy, I know. I just finished up some editing work for a friend and client. When I wrap up this blog, I plan to grab dinner–alone–then meet my friend Kate to see my friend and her husband Aaron in a play at the Fort Smith Little Theater. Based on the photos he’s been posting, at some point during the play he’ll be dressed as a woman. Red wig, fishnet stockings, two-inch heels and everything. Talk about exciting. One minute you’re hanging out at the library, and the next minute you’re really getting a show. This is life, full of twists and turns.

Lately I’ve been thinking about how it doesn’t take much. Like, it doesn’t take much to make your day a good day, it doesn’t take much to heal. Recently I said that doing the right thing isn’t difficult, it’s just figuring out what the right thing is that’s challenging. Yesterday I consulted with the woman whose blog first turned me onto the fact that the bacteria L. sakei can help tremendously with sinus issues. And whereas I tend to overdo the application of this little bad-bacteria-fighting critter, she said, “A little dab will do ya.” This is what I mean by “it doesn’t take much to heal.” I mean it doesn’t HAVE to take much to heal. So you don’t necessarily have to go all out. Just do whatever you need to do in order to bring balance, to tip the scales back to Center.

Along these lines, last night I ordered an air purifier for my room. Now, I read a long time ago that cleaner air is good for your sinuses, but the whole prospect of picking out an air filter and cleaning the air in our entire house seemed too overwhelming, impossible. But last night I figured that even if I breathe cleaner air only while I’m sleeping, that’s a third of the day, and a third of the day is nothing to sneeze at. (This, of course, being my hope, that I won’t be sneezing as much.) Anyway, usually I’m so all-or-nothing. But more and more I’m realizing there’s a lot of room in between, a lot of room where healing can happen. Indeed, more and more I believe that healing doesn’t occur at the extremes.

The lady I spoke to explained it this way. In everyone’s sinuses are bacteria, viruses, and fungi, much like in every neighborhood are juvenile delinquents. But these delinquents are only a problem if their parents go out of town and aren’t able to keep them in check. Again, this is the idea of balance. It’s not that we have to ALWAYS filter our air or can NEVER eat chocolate cake. We just don’t want things to get our of control. This, of course, is a subtle and delicate task.

Back to the idea of things not taking much, this morning a family friend of ours came over to discuss having me frame some of their antique brooches. Anyway, we ended up chatting about her new Fitbit, which helps her keep up with how many steps she takes each day. Well–and you may know this, but it was news to me–apparently every hour you take so many steps, Fitbit says, “You won the hour.” Is this delightful or what? I told my friend that it was going to be my phrase for the day, especially after she said she won the hour by coming over and visiting and laughing with me and my family. That’s the deal, we make happiness and contentment out to be these huge things, something OUT THERE, but winning the hour doesn’t take much, returning to balance doesn’t take much. It just takes being present. To the little things that happen right here, right now. Like laughing with a friend, eating dinner alone (and enjoying your own company), seeing your pal wear fishnet stockings.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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No good story ever ends.

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On Bitching and Mitching (Blog #919)

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This entire week I’ve been fighting a sinus infection. And whereas things could be worse, I’ve been losing. Last night I went to bed hacking and coughing, and this morning I woke up hacking and coughing. Thankfully, things calmed down once my feet hit the floor and I became vertical. I guess the junk started draining. Draining, that’s what physical activity has been for me this week. Not impossible, but tiring. This morning I helped a friend load a bunch of trash (old furniture and such) onto a trailer to take to the dump. By the time we were finished, I was out of breath.

And starving. Let’s not forget starving, since three weeks ago I stopped eating before noon.

Does anyone feel sorry for me yet? If so, that’s honestly not my intent. I wish I could talk about something besides this plague–the black lung. (You could, Marcus.) I wish I could show up here and write about ten ways I have it all figured out and why I’m happy and healthy (and horny) all day every day. (You could, Marcus.) Well, yes, I could do that. But that wouldn’t be honest. I don’t feel great inside and out every day. For as hard as I work to be inside-and-out healthy, I still have plenty of things than can instantaneously bring me to my knees or, quite frankly, knock me on my ass.

I said a few days go that being sick carries less of a charge for me than it used to. What I meant is that for the longest time my sinus infections left me feeling hopeless. No matter how many doctors I saw and how many traditional treatments and home remedies I tried, the infections simply wouldn’t go away for very long. Then last year I discovered a probiotic (L. sakei) that turned out to be an absolute lifesaver. I had a sinus infection that lasted over three months, and once I got my hands on a product (kimchi) that contained the bacteria (and swabbed the inside of my nostrils with it), the infection went away in two days. “The universe knew you needed a break,” my therapist said.

“Twenty years,” I said, “is that how long it takes for the universe to figure these things out?”

Both when I had my sinus surgery two and a half years ago and when I learned about L. sakei a year and a half ago, I hoped that that would be it. Like, no more sinus infections ever. Alas, this has not been the case. Clearly, I still get them. And blog about them. That being said, they don’t last as long as they used to. They’re not as severe. And whereas I sometimes have to futz around with half a dozen products to find one with the correct, living bacteria, for me it’s still better (and cheaper) than going the traditional route of expensive doctor visits, antibiotics, and steroids.

But back to feeling hopeless. Admittedly, there have been times this week that I’ve been uber frustrated. Like, This bullshit again? But one of the benefits of so much therapy and honestly blogging about both my challenges and triumphs is that I’ve learned how to talk to myself. What I mean is that I’ve learned through daily practice how to not let myself get swept down the rabbit hole of worry and fear. Since I started this blog and especially since I went through about a year of being off-and-on sick, I’ve had a number of people refer to my writing as “bitching.” That’s fine. My point here isn’t to always be upbeat. My point is to be honest, and sometimes I’m honestly in a bitchy mood, especially when my body feels like a warm pile of shit.

All this being said, in addition to writing every one of my blogs, I’ve also read every one of my blogs at least three times, and although I could be wrong in my assessment, I think I make it a pretty distinct point here to 1) be real, 2) search for hope, and 3) find something good in even my worst days. The way I see it, saying, “This sucks, feel sorry for me,” that’s bitching. But saying, “This sucks, let’s hang in there and use this as a way to grow and become a better person,” that’s what I call mitching. That stands for mature bitching.

I just made that up.

My therapist says she’s a huge fan of bitching. “I love whining, whinging, and grousing,” she says. Not just because that’s the profession she’s in, but because it’s fun to vent, to feel sorry for ourselves. Can it wear your friends the fuck out? You’re damn right it can, which is why I suggest doing most of your emotional vomiting to someone who’s getting paid to listen to you. I also suggest that in addition to bitching you do some mitching. That is, start with the honest, ugly truth. Let your inner child throw a fit. This sucks. I hate it. Life’s not fair. I don’t know what to do. Then let your inner adult have the floor; talk yourself into a better place. All is not lost. There’s always help available. Things can change. I can change.

This is what I mean when I say I’ve learned how to talk to myself. For 919 days in a row (including today), I’ve sat down and been brutally honest about what I’m thinking and feeling. At the same time, I’ve been brutally honest about how I’d LIKE to think and feel (in a word, better). After over two years of doing this, it’s not that my bad days and challenges have disappeared. Certainly not. But what has happened is that now I don’t despair so quickly, if at all. When I do, I can get myself from a bad mood to a good mood in fairly short order.

If you want your life to change, you have to change your life.

This afternoon a probiotic I ordered earlier this week to help my sinuses arrived. And whereas I’ve only used it once, I think (I hope, I pray) it’s helping. I’ll know more tomorrow, but I’m not hacking and coughing as much as I was last night at this time. I have more energy. My point is that if you want anything in your life to improve–including your physical, mental, and emotional health–you’re gonna have to work at it again and again and again. Will you need hope and grace along the way? You bet your bottom dollar you will. None of us make it alone. At the same time, no one does our work for us. If you want your life to change, you have to change your life. This takes focused will and intent, determination and discipline, practice and patience.

It sucks, I know, but I promise you’ll like the results.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Along the way you’ll find yourself, and that’s the main thing, the only thing there really is to find.

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On the Best Advice (Blog #915)

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Yikes. Yesterday I started getting a sinus infection, and it went full-blown during the night. I got a sore throat and everything. But what do you do? Life goes on. Even if you don’t. This morning I crawled out of bed at seven, coughed up a bunch of colorful junk, got dressed, and drove my parents to the hospital. My dad’s been needing a pacemaker for a while now, and today was the day. And despite being ten minutes late because of traffic, we made it. More importantly, he made it. The surgery went fine, we’re all home now, and his heart’s beating faster than it was before.

In the waiting room today I began reading The Writer’s Journey: Mythic Structure for Writers by Christopher Vogler. So far, it’s glorious. One thing Vogler points out is that every great hero (or heroine) has a guide or mentor, someone who says, “Look what’s possible.” Joseph Campbell called these helpers magical aid. Dorothy had Glinda the Good Witch, Frodo Baggins had Gandolf the Grey, and Mary Tyler Moore had Lou Grant. I’ve personally been fortunate to have a number of mentors, but I consider my therapist my big-kahuna mentor. More than any other person in my life, she’s given me the guidance I’ve needed to navigate life’s challenges successfully.

Whenever I praise my therapist and thank her for changing my life for the better, she always says, “You did all the heavy lifting.” This is important to understand. Not that I’ve done any heavy lifting, but that even the best therapist can’t fix your problems for you. They can support you, they can offer you wisdom, but you’re ultimately the only one who can do anything about your problems. (Why, Marcus?) Because they’re YOUR problems.

When discussing mentors Vogler says, “The best advice is useless if you don’t take it.” Think about that. The best advice is useless if you don’t take it. Countless times my therapist has told me, “If you want healthy relationships, here’s what you have to do. I’m giving you the playbook. Be honest. Confront. Have tough conversations. Set boundaries.” Talk about fabulous advice. But what’s the saying? It’s easy to say, harder to do. When you walk out of your therapist’s office, this is where the heavy lifting comes in. This is where the rubber meets the road.

When given good advice, one question to ask yourself is, “Am I going to willfully discard this information or actually do something with it?” For me, the answer often comes when I ask myself, How badly do I want to be free? (I’ll explain.) A number of times since starting therapy I’ve been in situations in which someone violated my boundaries. I wrote about a recent situation involving work and compensation for services here. Recently I’ve come to know–deep down–that when my first response to, say, a text message, is anger, I know a boundary has been crossed. This is part of seeing and living clearly. First you have to admit that there’s a problem rather than brushing it off or explaining it away. How do you know something’s a problem? Your emotions will tell you. Anyway, once you know, then you can decide what to do about it.

This is the part about being free. When you know there’s a problem, a violation of some sort, but you purposefully choose to ignore it or brush it under the rug, who’s fault is it when 1) you feel miserable and 2) it happens again and again and again? More and more I’ve started speaking up. Not because it’s fun but because I know what happens when I bite my tongue (see below). Recently I told someone, “If you and I are going to continue to have a professional relationship, I need you to do this.” Now, the person said, “Okay,” and that was that. We’ll see what happens. But my point is that sometimes other people don’t even know they’re crossing a line unless we tell them in plain, simple language discharged of emotion (and blaming and name-calling).

For me, I’ve found that when I don’t speak up when I know there’s a problem, when I bite my tongue, I suffer needlessly. My therapist says, “Biting your tongue hurts.” For me what hurts is that I stew. I imagine all sorts of scenarios in which I yell and scream and call people bitches and assholes (and shitheads and turds). I tell other people, “Can you believe what this person did?” But when I say, “Hey, wait a damn minute, we need to talk,” that’s it. Within a matter of minutes, I feel better, regardless of how things turn out. No drama. No gossip. No pain.

In all my years (decades) of struggling with sinus infections, the only thing that’s reliably helped them is a probiotic called L. sakei, which is most commonly (but not always) found in kimchi or fermented cabbage. Last week when I started to get an infection, I bought a bottle of kimchi, and it knocked it out overnight. For a week I felt great. Now the infection is back with a vengeance. Because that bottle didn’t help yesterday, this afternoon I ended up buying over seven pounds of kimchi–because the probiotic in the kimchi expires after a couple months and the only recently made kimchi was in a huge jar. And whereas I find a six-foot tall white man walking out of an Asian food mart with seven pounds of kimchi tucked under his arm funny, again, it’s the only thing that’s helped.

You do what you gotta do.

This evening I’ve been using the new kimchi, and the jury’s still out as to whether or not it’s gonna work. I’ll know for sure in the morning. Either way, I ordered a fresh batch of only the probiotic (it comes in a powder) just moments ago, and that will be here by the end of the week. And whereas part of me is freaking out because–what if nothing works?–experience has taught me that this does work. Sure, it’s not an exact science–I have to play around to get the right product, and it’s not a one-and-done deal–but it works. The same goes with how you can improve your relationships–communicate, listen, set boundaries, speak up. It’s not an exact science. You have to keep working at it. But the advice works–if you take it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Sometimes we move with grace and sometimes we move with struggle. But at some point, standing still is no longer good enough.

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I’m Sick, I Hurt, I Stink (Blog #908)

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Yesterday I said that I woke up with sinus junk and started my magic probiotic (L. sakei) in hopes of healing. Well, once again, it worked. I woke up in the middle of the night with a surge of energy. It was like my body said, “Yippee! We feel better!”

“But it’s three in the morning,” I replied.

Of course, my body didn’t care. We lay in bed, wide awake and tossing and turning, until five. Not that I’m complaining. I’d rather be sleep deprived than sinus sick any day. And whereas it’s a bit frustrating to have to deal with sinus junk at all, my life now sure beats my life five years ago. Hell, twenty years ago. For decades I got several sinus infections a year, each infection lasting at least a week. I went to doctors. I took (so many) antibiotics and steroids. I was out time and money. Nothing really helped. Now what used to take a week or more to go away disappears in as little as half a day, without doctors, without drugs. And all for the cost of what? Yesterday I spent six dollars on a bottle of kimchi (which contains L. sakei). All this to say that I’m extremely grateful. This morning I woke up actually looking forward to going to work to paint. I was just happy to be alive and well.

Now, could I wake up sick tomorrow? Of course. None of us are guaranteed a thing.

I guess tonight’s blog is about gratitude, my consciously acknowledging that some things in my life are healing. My sinuses, for one. For another, my headaches. For months (years) I was getting them weekly, sometimes several times a week. But between going to my new chiropractor and (I think) acupuncture and cupping, I haven’t had a full-blown headache in three weeks. Is all my neck tension gone? No, not be any means. But I’m learning that things don’t have to be perfect to be better than the used to be. To be heading in the right direction.

Another thing that’s improved–just in case you wanted to know–is my body odor. Ugh. Ever since I took a ton of antibiotics before my sinus surgery in 2017, my arm pits (and other pits) have off-and-on stunk. Like gag-a-maggot gross. I can’t tell you what a drag this has been. I love dancing, but when I dance, I sweat. And when I sweat, I stink. No one has ever made a big deal about it, but I’ve been super self-conscious about being close to anyone. In the last almost three years, I’ve tried everything–Yodora deodorant cream (which contains borax), white vinegar, baking soda, coconut oil, magnesium and zinc supplements, chlorophyl supplements. The list goes on. Well, I’d pretty much given up. I thought, Maybe this is just the way I smell.

Then God threw me a bone.

What I mean is that a few weeks ago I was reading a book about I don’t even remember what, and that book mentioned another book about the importance of magnesium. Well, I started reading that book, and while doing some Googling about something it said, I ran across an article that said Milk of Magnesia was fabulous for stinky arm pits, I guess because the magnesium keeps the bacteria on your skin (that are responsible for how you smell) in check. No kidding. Look it up. Dr. Oz even did a program about it. Anyway, I bought a bottle (for five bucks), gave it a shot, and it worked like a charm. That first day I worked outside in one-hundred-degree weather and didn’t smell a thing. Now, if I don’t reapply every day (or if I don’t shower), I smell something. Again, things aren’t perfect.

But things are so much better.

A lot of times when I fantasize about healing anything in my life, I imagine something grand like an angel or miracle swooping down and fixing things in an instant. Bippity boppity boo. You know, like all of a sudden a problem is gone and gone forever. Alas, this doesn’t seem to be the way the universe operates. Do miracles happen? You’re damn right they do. And whereas I’m convinced the insta-fix can and does occur, I’m also convinced that more often than not the miracles we experience are a combination of work on our part and grace from above. For instance, I spent hours upon hours scouring the internet for sinus infection home remedies (and trying none too few of them) before coming across one that worked. The same with my headaches, the same with my smelly pits. I consulted and questioned doctors, healers. I spent a lot of money.

Did these actions on my part guarantee my improvements? Absolutely not. That’s where grace comes in. At the same time, I’m not sure the grace of healing would have come had I just stayed at home and done nothing. When was the last time someone magically showed up on your doorstep with the answer to your problem? Probably never. You’ve gotta do your part. So it’s a combination, a paradox of action and inaction. This dance between accepting what is (I’m sick, I hurt, I stink) and believing the answers you’ve been waiting on for years can show up in the blink of an eye.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Both sunshine and rain are required for growth.

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With Practice (Blog #715)

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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)

"Authenticity is worth all the hard work. Being real is its own reward."

On Cutting Your Losses (Blog #714)

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A few weeks ago I filled a small bowl full of water and pink Himalayan sea salt so I could dip my elbow in it. I read online it could help psoriasis. Laugh if you want to, but the psoriasis on my elbow went away. Granted, I was trying a number of things–when it comes to my health I like the shotgun approach–but who’s to say the pink sea salt didn’t help? Anyway, since the problem disappeared, that little bowl of salt water has simply sat on my bathroom counter. Well, I guess the water evaporated, and, y’all, the coolest thing happened. The salt deposited itself around the inside and outside of the bowl like frosting. And whereas it’s just a minor thing, I think it’s beautiful, this little art project that slowly and steadily took shape.

Slowly and steadily, that seems to be a theme for me lately, in terms of my writing, in terms of my knee rehab, and more. Ugh. Things take forever here on earth. Nothing happens as fast as you want it to. So many days it feels like you’re going nowhere. But then one day you wake up and your psoriasis is gone or there’s gorgeous salt-covered bowl in your bathroom. You think, I’ll be damned. When did THAT happen?

When I woke up this morning, I felt like crud. My sinus junk was as bad as it’s been in over a year. But then I got up, got around, and took a shower and felt better, almost human. A fresh batch of the probiotic powder (L. Sakei) that’s always helped in the past arrived in the mail today, so I’m hoping it will help turn things around over the next day or two. If it doesn’t, I don’t know what I’ll do. Probably cry. I’m trying to not think about it, to just take this one day at a time. I’ll let you know how it goes.

This afternoon a small miracle occurred. A couple weeks ago I started reading a 700-page book about neuroscience and why humans behave the way they do. I got through about a hundred pages. And whereas I found the information interesting, I also found it laborious. Then today when I picked the book back up, despite my best efforts to concentrate, my eyes kept glossing over. I thought, This is so fucking boring. Why would I want to slug through 600 more pages of this crap? So I put it down–for good. That’s right, I gave myself permission to not complete something–not by default but on purpose. This is huge, as I tend to hold a certain amount of guilt over books I didn’t finish years ago. (I can still see their covers in my head.) But seriously, if the author couldn’t make their topic interesting in a hundred freakin’ pages, I can’t take all the blame for being bored and wanting to do something else with my life.

After I put the book away (be gone, boring book!) I started another one by Bill Bryson, about Australia. My friend and fellow writer Tom told me about it. Holy crap, y’all, I was laughing out loud within the first five pages. Then a movie stub fell out of the back of the book that was dated September 13, my birthday. So between the laughter and this coincidence, I thought, Okay, I’ve made the right decision. Of course, I didn’t need these “signs” to let me know that. My gut had been barking at me for the last twenty pages of that boring book to put it down. But I kept thinking, I’ve already started. I should finish this.

Bullshit.

Sometimes you just have to walk away. My mom did this today while on hold with some company. After fifteen minutes of waiting, she hung up. “That’s enough,” she said. And whereas part of me was appalled (because you should finish what you started), another part of me was in awe. After all, I’d never suggest that someone stay in a bad relationship simply because they’ve invested so much time in it. I’d say, “Cut your losses, get the hell out.” So why can’t that wisdom be applied to any bad relationship–with a book, a phone call, whatever?

Be gone, bad relationship!

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Along the way you’ll find yourself, and that’s the main thing, the only thing there really is to find.

"

The Slow Grow (Blog #712)

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Things that happened today–

1. I felt better

After two days of feeling crummy, this morning I woke up feeling normal. I credit the miracle probiotic (L. Sakei), which is found in kimchi (or sold online as a powder) and that I started using yesterday. I know it’s weird, swabbing the inside of my nostrils with fermented cabbage juice, but in twenty years of dealing with sinus infections, it’s the only thing I’ve found that reliably works. So who cares if it’s weird? I’m grateful for it. Not only has this little critter (probiotics are living creatures, after all) solved my sinus problems, it’s also given me a great deal of hope. That is, I’ve been reminded that even longstanding problems can–one day–be solved.

2. I saw my therapist

This morning I saw my therapist and–because I was curious–asked her about something I heard on a podcast recently. The podcast was about a poker player who was really good at what he did. That is, he could read people. Consequently, he’d come to the conclusion that most people were shitty. So I asked my therapist, “You’ve got a good gut. You can read people. What do you think about humanity?”

My therapist said, “I think most people take the easiest way forward and choose to not really take a look at themselves or their maladaptive patterns. Unfortunately, social media and western culture give people every bit of encouragement to indulge their worst behaviors. But I have hope in general that people are capable of change and growth.” Then she paused and added, “And all that shit is hard to do.”

3. I spent time with my family

After therapy, I picked my aunt up, who’d been out-of-town visiting two of our extended family members that I personally hadn’t seen until today in probably fifteen years. Anyway, the four of us met to eat and catch up. Oh my gosh, y’all, one of my relatives (whom I call an aunt but is technically a cousin twice removed) said I sound like my grandpa when I laugh. Talk about making my day. My grandpa’s no longer alive, but it was the perfect reminder that some things, certain connections and relationships, go beyond life and death.

4. I got stuff done before the sun went down

After I dropped my aunt off at her house, I came home and started being productive doing laundry. Then I sat down to do this blog. Now I’m almost finished, and there’s still a little light outside. This almost never happens. Usually I don’t get started working until late at night, and then it’s go-go-go. And whereas I’m okay with this pattern, my body often falls into bed completely exhausted. So perhaps tonight I can adopt a more leisurely pace and get stuff done without crashing later. More and more, I’m learning there’s no reason to wear yourself out. You can take your time and still make progress. My therapist calls this “the slow grow.”

5. I learned a new saying

While my aunt and I were driving home this afternoon, she said something I’ve never heard before, that life’s pretty good if you don’t weaken. To me this means that life is amazing. It’s filled with long-waited-for relief, kindness, laughter, and connections that last beyond the grave. At the same time, life’s not for sissies. More times than any of us would like, we have to hang in and, as Wilson Phillips says, hold on for one more day. Hell, for one more year (or decade). Often our progress seems to be two steps forward and one step back. The slow grow. That’s fine. There’s no hurry here. What’s important is that life persists, that we persist.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Sometimes you have to go back before you can go forward.

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On Being More Certain (Blog #700)

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After two days of feeling like crud, this morning I woke up–worse. However, when I got up and took my temperature–96.6, a degree lower than what’s normal for me–I convinced myself I didn’t have the flu. No fever. No aches and pains. Rather, I decided it was my old “friend” Mr. Sinus Infection. And whereas I wasn’t thrilled about his showing back up uninvited (who would be?), I figured I’ve dealt with his sorry ass before. Plus, almost anything is better than the flu.

Can I get an amen?

A year ago I had a sinus infection that lasted over three months. It was disgusting. Who knew one person could produce that much mucus? It was the biggest and most discouraging health thing I’d ever dealt with, and I tried everything under the sun to get it to go away–antibiotics, nasal irrigations, vitamins and supplements. Nothing touched it. But then I stumbled upon a website that said many chronic sinus infection sufferers had found relief by swabbing a particular probiotic (L. Sakei) in their nostrils (I’m not kidding), the idea being that L. Sakei eats, kills, or otherwise balances out the bad bacteria that’s up there running rampant and causing all the grief. Anyway, this theory made sense to me (and I was desperate), so I tried it. And get this shit. After three months of being sick day in and day out, I was better in forty-eight hours.

Just like that.

For the last year, I’ve used this strategy anytime I’ve felt something coming on. Unfortunately, sometimes it hasn’t worked. I’ll explain. L. Sakei is a bacteria or probiotic that’s not only difficult to come by, but also picky about where and how long it lives. That is, it’s only in one probiotic pill that I’m aware of, and then it’s mixed in with other little critters. There’s a company that sell the probiotic by itself (as a powder), but it’s thirty bucks for a little bag, and you have to keep it in the freezer. Otherwise, your best bet is kimchi. That’s right, kimchi, the Korean fermented cabbage stuff. That’s what initially did the trick for me. However, I had to try six or eight different brands before I found two that did the job, since L. Sakei doesn’t grow in every batch of kimchi, and when it does, it’s only between weeks two and ten after the date of production (which isn’t normally printed on the product). So it’s a crap shoot.

Because swabbing kimchi up your nose is 1) a crap shoot and 2) smells bad, for the last year I’ve kept the expensive probiotic powder on hand. My logic: I’ll gladly pay thirty bucks if it keeps me vertical and out of the doctor’s office. Anyway, for the last two days, ever since I started feeling like crap, I’ve been using it. However, I noticed this morning that my batch had expired over two months ago. As I understand it, the bacteria can only live so long after being exposed to oxygen. Anyway, since it takes a solid week to get the stuff through the mail, this afternoon I showered and dragged my ass to the Asian food mart in search of kimchi.

Y’all, and I realize this is a dumb American thing to say, but the Asian food mart is super weird. Never mind their food. I walked in today, and right there on the other side of the sliding glass doors–in front of God and everybody–was a row of pedicure chairs. Thankfully, no one was in them, but still–pedicure chairs in a grocery store, right next to the fifty pound bags of rice. Can you imagine getting your calluses scrubbed while the scent of raw fish drifted across your nostrils (presuming you didn’t have a sinus infection and could smell the raw fish)? Ick.

Months ago, the Asian food mart only had one brand of kimchi, but today they had two, so I stood there examining everything, praying about which I should get. “I like this one,” an Asian woman told me. Then she smiled. “You like Korean food?”

“Uh, I like this stuff,” I said, smiling in return.

Don’t tell her you put it up your nose, I thought.

“You been Korea?” she said.

“No, I haven’t,” I said. Then I added, “Only Thailand.”

She frowned and walked away.

Dumb American.

Back at the house, I swabbed the kimchi up my nose. For two hours I off-and-on smelled cabbage, red peppers, and shrimp. Gross. But I have felt better tonight. This evening–while sitting up!–I read a wonderfully delightful and magical book about creativity (The Spark: Igniting the Creative Fire that Lives within Us All by Cirque de Soleil). Then I went to the gym with my dad for some “light” knee rehab. That is, I didn’t work out as long or as hard as normal. Now it’s midnight, and I’m obviously blogging. And whereas I don’t feel fabulous, I do think I’m on the mend. Granted, I could wake up tomorrow worse than ever, but I’m hoping that won’t be the case. I’m hoping those little fermented cabbage critters will do their job!

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Tonight’s blog is number 700 (in a row). Damn; that’s a lot. I’ve been wanting to do another live video to share an essay I wrote that helped me process selling most of my worldly possessions and begin living as a minimalist, so maybe I can do that tomorrow or this weekend as a way of celebrating almost two full years of daily blogging. (Two years exactly will fall in one more month, on the last day of March).

Life is good despite its difficulties.

I wish I had something more profound to say to wrap up tonight’s post. Thinking back to that sinus infection that lasted forever (at least it felt like forever), I’m reminded that relief comes. After days, weeks, or even years of a storm beating at or even tearing apart your door, eventually even the strongest winds must stop blowing. When I went through a breakup and started therapy five years ago, I was miserable. Fucking miserable. People said, “It gets better. You’ll feel differently one day.” I wanted to punch them in the face. Granted, it was true. That storm passed. Also, I’m better for having come through it, better for having come through all my storms. They’ve made me stronger and more hopeful–no–more certain that life is good despite its difficulties, kind despite its challenges.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It's the holes or the spaces in our lives that give us room to breathe and room to rest in, room to contain both good and bad days, and--when the time is right--room for something else to come along.

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All Things Great and Small (Blog #415)

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Tonight I’m afraid to write. I can’t say why. I’ve been sitting here for forty-five minutes browsing the internet, the whole time thinking, I have nothing to say. I didn’t do shit this afternoon. I read a book and drank a cup of coffee. How am I supposed to blog about that? This isn’t the first time I’ve thought something like this. Tonight’s blog is #415 (in a row), and I honestly have no idea how I’ve managed to “fill the page” time and time again, since the details of my day-to-day life aren’t that exciting. Like I said, today I read a book and drank a cup of coffee.

Woo-who.

The book I’m currently reading is called I Contain Multitudes: The Microbes Within Us and a Grander View of Life by Ed Yong and is about all the Little Critters that live on, in, and around us. I’m a hundred pages into the book and am riveted. According to the author, there are more germs living in and on one human body than there are stars in the galaxy, although “germs” is apparently not the best term to use, since it implies bad and nasty. As it turns out, the vast majority of bacteria in the world are either harmless or beneficial. Many help break down our foods and fight off disease. Quite literally forming communities in our mouths, guts, and private areas, these bacteria can influence our moods, weight, and even our personalities. (There’s a bacteria that, in order to survive, turns some insects into lesbians! Well, at least it allows female wasps to clone themselves and therefore have no need for males, which is sort of like being a lesbian.)

Since each of us is home to so many different species of microbes, Yong contends that any one of us, rather than being “an I,” is really “a we.” Here’s how he says it: “When we eat, so do they. When we travel, they come along. When we die, they consume us. Every one of us is a zoo in our own right–a colony enclosed in a single body. A multi-species collective. An entire world.”

Isn’t that beautiful?

Since being introduced to this book recently (it was a gift), I’ve started thinking of myself as a collective, an ecosystem, a rainforest, if you will. Granted, I’ve never been to a rainforest (other than Rainforest Cafe), but I can imagine–tigers feed off their prey just as lush trees feed off decaying plants, all in a complex system of give and take, life and death. Likewise, I’m teeming with a whole universe of lifeforms, and together we’re engaged in a great balancing act. For years I’ve struggled with sinus infections but have recently seen improvements by introducing a single strand of bacteria (l. sakei) into my nostrils. (This apparently works because l. sakei keeps other bacteria “in check.”) It sounds weird, I know, but now it makes more sense than ever. It’s like the scales were tipped in the wrong direction “up there,” and I just needed one heavy hitter to help even things out.

Way to go, fellas.

What’s amazing to me is that one little bacteria (the one that started the infections) has been able to cause me so much misery and that one little bacteria (the one that ended the infections) has been able to cause me so much joy. L. sakei isn’t a panacea for all my health problems, but it truly has changed the landscape of this rainforest. So often we think of ourselves as powerless or without influence, but my God, if one little bacteria can do that–wreak havoc or bring joy–how much more can I do? How much more can you do? I think about my therapist, how knowing her has completely transformed me for the better. Four years into our work together, there’s not a relationship in my life that hasn’t improved because of her, even the relationship I have with myself (and all my microbes). It’s funny, right? I had no idea the day I met her just how much my world would change.

Now our world is more magical.

Earlier I said, “Nothing happened today. I read a book and drank a cup of coffee.” What I meant to say was, “Everything happened today. This morning my entire rainforest came to life, and this afternoon we drank a cup of coffee, and a million microbial and chemical reactions made it possible. At the same time we read a book and may never see ourselves the same again because of it. Now our world is more magical, a mysterious place where everything somehow works together, where nothing and no one is without influence, where all things great and small can make a difference.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Perfection is ever-elusive.

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