Responsible (Blog #1081)

When you stay home all day (#flattenthecurve), you can get a lot done. This afternoon I watched two videos about the esoteric history of Egypt with my dad and finished two custom-order brooch projects. Then this evening I dusted and vacuumed my room and cleaned my bathroom and shower. And washed my sheets. Woowho. That’s twice this year already. Then I cried while watching American Idol and took a much-needed shower. Now I’m basking in all the cleanliness. I’m clean, my sheets are clean, my room is clean. God’s in his heaven, all’s right with the world.

Except for COVID-19, of course.

Along these lines, this morning I read a Facebook post about COVID-19 that used the phrase “we’re not in control.” And whereas I agree with this statement and said as much a couple days ago (that at some point we have to surrender), I think it’s a statement worth clarifying. Because how often do we through up our hands and say, “What can we do!?” when, in fact, there’s plenty we can do? Too often, that’s how often. What I mean is that although we are not in control of viruses, epidemics, and pandemics, we ARE in control of ourselves. To this end, we can make CHOICES, to wash our hands, to stay home, to practice social distancing, to reflect and act consciously rather than out of panic, and to be kind at the grocery store. To fill our time, hearts, and homes with patience and understanding rather than blame and fear.

Unfortunately, so many of us spend our lives cleaning our physical homes, even to the point of obsession, but not our internal homes. In other words, we have sloppy minds, filled with rage, guilt, finger-pointing, worry, and anxiety. Alas, we think, This is just the way I am. (Deal with it.) Having spent the last several years purposefully working on my interior, I’m happy to report that, no, it’s not just the way you are. Rather, if you spend your days feeling stressed or nervous or being rude and inconsiderate (and I know it’s not fun to admit these things about yourself), chances are it’s simply the result of past dramas and traumas (like, you’ve developed defense mechanisms) or because you haven’t learned a better way (or haven’t wanted to). It’s not because, although you may have been told this once or twice, you were born a wretch, totally rotten, beyond hope.

This is a complete lie. Utter nonsense. Sure, you may have some work to do, but–I promise–you were made from stardust. You are a mystery, and your life–as it is right here, right now–is worthy of your respect, gratitude, and awe.

Getting back to the idea of control, six years of therapy and consistent introspection have taught me that there are few things we don’t have SOME say in. Indeed, in all this time there hasn’t been one rough relationship or situation that I haven’t been able to do SOMETHING about. Sometimes this has looked like having a difficult conversation or distancing myself, and sometimes this has looked like changing my attitude. Or forgiving. Of course, the challenging part about admitting that you have choices even in gross circumstances is that you have to be responsible for the consequences of those choices. For example, recently I flipped off someone that I actually care about. Now, I did it with two fingers, but the look on my face said the second finger didn’t count. Anyway, I could have handled it better. But I’ve been upset with and hurt by this person for a while now, and this is the way my held-in feelings came out. So there’s been some relief. And if I ever have to own up to being a little shit in that moment, I’m ready to. My actions are never anyone else’s fault.

My life is mine to own.

Perhaps this is why more people don’t get into therapy or otherwise take a good, hard look at themselves. It sucks. I mean, who wants to be responsible? Tonight on American Idol there was a contestant in their mid-twenties dressed like an eight-year old. Indeed, they handed the judges a book they wrote–when they were nine. And whereas they had a beautiful voice and did well, it was clear that their inner child was running the show. Oh well. We all act like children or little shits occasionally. Because we all have parts of ourselves that still need healing and show up from time to time (daily) in order to let us know.

In times of crisis like these Mr. Rogers is often quoted as saying, “Look for the helpers,” and its our unhealed parts that like to hear this. But one of his staff pointed out in the podcast Finding Fred that that advice was meant FOR CHILDREN. As adults, we’re meant to BE the helpers.

So this means growing up. And this sucks.

I recommend it anyway.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Bodies are so mysterious, much more complicated than car doors. They take more patience to understand and work with. They require more than a couple hours to repair.

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Are You Going to Hold on to That? (Blog #1071)

After go, go, going for the last two days, this morning I woke up with a(nother) sinus infection. I can’t tell you how frustrated I get whenever this happens. (Although I know I do on a regular basis.) In addition to all the mucus, it just feels like I’m try, try, trying and getting nowhere.

No damn where.

This being said, after I got up and got myself together, I had an appointment with my myofascial release wizard (MFRW), and it was amazing. Which means I cried a lot. Seriously, there were so many tears, in addition to shaking, moaning, fist pounding, and foot stomping, all of which my MFRW says are normal reactions or responses to trauma that get can stuck in our body, in our fascia. Today as she was working on my right side, which has felt cinched up and scrunched down for over a decade, I absolutely fell apart, at the same time recalling a very specific and ancient stressful event from my childhood. And whereas it was momentarily uncomfortable, the release felt good.

Feeling like good things were happening, I asked my MFRW if she had any tricks for sinus issues. Thankfully, she said she did, and she began to slowly apply pressure across my face, stretching the fascia underneath my skin. Again, I got emotional. Then, when she held eucalyptus oil under my nose, I once again fell apart. (Later she said she didn’t think it was the scent that caused my reaction, but I’m open to the idea that, under the right circumstances, subtle energies can move mountains.) This release went on for a while and brought up memories of how hard I’ve tried over the years to, well, do just about everything–heal, be successful, stay in the closet. Once when my breathing changed and I started to stifle my body’s tears, my MFRW said, “Are you going to hold on to that, or are you ready to let it go?”

I’ve been thinking about this a lot today. This afternoon I spoke to my therapist, whom I’ve been having a lot of life-coaching type sessions with lately. This means we’ve been discussing career-oriented things and money, which is historically not my favorite topic. Well, today when the topic came up I realized that a lot of other topics came up with it. Sort of like how you mean to pick up one paperclip from a cup and end up picking up a number of them because they’ve gotten stuck together. Specifically, today’s conversation about my future career brought up my beliefs that 1) I work really hard and get nowhere, 2) life works for everyone else but not for me, and 3) I’m not worthy of success.

Now, from a logical standpoint, I know that none of these statements are true. And yet deep down I still have a reaction to them. This is is why I believe it’s one thing to get something in your head and another thing to get something in your body. For three years I’ve talked the internet’s ear off about my life’s dramas and traumas, and yet my body still had more to say about them today. Likewise with my issues around money and worthiness. More and more I believe this is the case for all of us. That our bodies have the final word.

Whether we like it or not.

I say whether we like it or not because I don’t LOVE falling apart in the arms of a total stranger. Nor do I like the fact that I have all these triggers around money. I’d much rather take a Tylenol for my aches and pains, act like everything is fine, and move on with my life. Alas, my body has clearly been crying out for help for decades and is no longer satisfied with the Tylenol or the “I’m fine” approach. If it ever was. Not that I didn’t take a Tylenol this evening to help with my headache (which I have in addition to my current sinus problems). You do what you’ve got to do. But more and more I’m convinced that because I’ve been shoving emotions down and been putting Bandaids on for years–albeit doing the best I knew how–it’s simply time to learn another way.

This is going to take some time, of course. And whereas I’m trying to be patient, it’s difficult. I want to feel better NOW. I want to let go of old beliefs NOW. At the same time, I’m terrified to move forward. Because my old beliefs, emotions, and even aches and pains are, well, familiar. Not that I like them, but I’ve grown accustomed to them. In a very real sense, they are ME. I’m willing to change, but I think, WHO am I going to be on the other side of all this? And, Am I ready?

Am I ready to let go of my old life?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"The truth is right in front of you."

Willing (Blog #1070)

This morning I worked backstage for the national tour of Trolls Live! This isn’t as sexy as it may sound. My first official duty when I got to work? Sweep and mop the stage. Which, by the way, was covered in glitter, which one of the characters (Guy Diamond) farts out his butt. (Sheesh. Fart glitter. Toddler humor.) Anyway, just as I was really getting into the mopping part, a screw came out of my mop handle, and the head fell off. (I hate it when my head falls off.) So I picked up the screw, threw it away, took the mop out to my car, and repaired everything with a spare bolt and nut I found in my toolbox.

Well.

By the time I got back to the stage to finish mopping, a curtain (the main) had been lowered onto the stage. No problem, I thought, I’ll just mop behind it. But first I decided to look in front of the curtain, which is where the mop broke, just incase there was another screw or piece that had fallen out. Someone could step on it, I thought. Alas, one of the crew was behind the curtain, and when they noticed that someone in front of the curtain (me) was ruffling it, they sort-of started freaking out and (albeit gently) reprimanding that person (me again). “Don’t touch the curtain,” they said. “The doors are open. People are coming in.”

Of course, they didn’t know WHY I was touching the curtain. How could they? They didn’t ask for an explanation, and, being on the other side of the curtain and not realizing until “too late” that they were even talking to me, I didn’t offer one. This is an example of the idea that we all live in different worlds. I was living in the “I need to move the curtain to keep someone from getting hurt” world, and they were living in the “that curtain’s delicate and expensive, and the show’s about to start” world. And whereas there was a time I would have thought that their world was right and my world was wrong or vice versa, more and more I don’t see anyone else’s world as better or worse, morally superior or inferior, than mine.

Just different.

This being said, a part of me was still upset by the interaction. My Inner People Pleaser has been “online” for so long that it’s never fun (like, how exciting!) for me to be corrected. Plus, apparently my personality has been intentionally designed to be largely independent and function via an inner mantra that sounds like, “Don’t tell me what to do.” I accept this about myself. Not just because it resonates as true for me, but also because I’m tired of trying to change it. Not that I can’t improve or that I’m always right, but I am who I am. Accordingly, who and what I am IS right–for me.

Getting back to accepting myself in the above situation, years ago I would have fretted for hours, if not days, about what happened, thinking both that I had done something wrong and that–oh no!–someone didn’t like me. After almost six years of therapy, almost three years of daily writing and introspection, and just over a month of EMDR treatments, I’m happy to report that I got over it pretty quickly. My point being that you don’t have to be a slave to your emotional reactions forever. Your inner demons can be tamed and quieted. This being said, I truly believe that our emotional reactions only downshift once they’ve been given permission to speak and once we hear them.

Once we hear ourselves.

In Trolls Live! it’s said that one of the characters won (I think) the fuzziest hair contest in 2016, 2017, and 2019. “What happened in 2018?” one of the other characters says. The answer?

“We don’t talk about 2018.”

Alas, this is how most of us handle the distressing emotions and situations in our lives. We shove them down. Ignore them. Bury them. Cover them up. We don’t talk about IT, whatever IT is. And whereas I understand and am completely and utterly familiar with these strategies, they simply haven’t worked as a permanent and healing solution for me. What has worked? Talking about, feeling, and accepting every scary and uncomfortable whatever. Listening to and learning from my body, feelings, and emotions, however unpleasant or gross that process may be. Looking at IT. Mr. Rogers encouraged, “Feelings are mentionable AND manageable.” When you’re stuck in embarrassment or shame (I did something wrong), it can feel like you’re going to fall apart, to implode. But I can absolutely promise you that regardless of what you’ve buried inside you, you’ve been given an inherent wisdom that knows how to handle its resurrection and transformation.

Several minutes after the “you’re on the wrong side of the curtain” incident, I got excited about the fact that I was having a very ancient emotional reaction. Why? Because it let me know there was a part of me that needed to be heard, that I imagine has been wanting to express itself for quite a long time. That’s been wanting to take the stage and be my teacher. Along these lines, ore and more I’m grateful when someone pushes my buttons. Because they show me where my buttons are located. They show me the parts of myself I’ve been ignoring. (Thankfully, after all this time and trial-and-error–I now know what to do with this invaluable information.) Likewise, I’m even beginning to find gratitude for the pains in my body. Because they too are crying out for attention. And they make me curious. Like, Sweetheart, what’s going on here? What story do you have to tell me? What have I not been willing to hear until now?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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One thing finishes, another starts. Things happen when they happen.

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Underground (Blog #1065)

Today I’ve been thinking about gratitude because recently–really without having to try too hard–I’ve come across a handful of extremely helpful things. Upper cervical care of my neck and headaches, a new therapist for resolving trauma, a myfascial release practitioner for releasing constrictions, and–most recently–a woman who’s helping me better understand my personality and the way I was made to best function and be of service in the world. When I told my (regular) therapist about how I met this woman (I randomly told an acquaintance that I was hungry, and they invited me to join them and a friend, this personality whiz, for lunch), she said, “If that’s not kismet [fate, destiny], I don’t know what it is.”

“I know,” I told her. “So many wonderful things have happened lately. I get so focused on what’s NOT working (currently I have an ice bag on my hurting hip) that I forget to be thankful, but it truly is wild how these things have come about.”

Y’all, for years I’ve been both praying and working my ass off for answers, for healing. And whereas I certainly still have problems, I am starting to make some progress. In truth, I was probably making progress all along and simply couldn’t see it. You know the way a seed sprouts underground and sends out roots long before anything breaks above the surface. My point being that it’s easy to feel like you’re getting nowhere when you can’t see evidence of progress. Likewise, it can be difficult to feel gratitude when things aren’t one hundred or even seventy-five percent better. But it’s important to 1) be grateful for any and all progress and 2) acknowledge an answer to prayer when you get one.

I don’t know. We read all these stories about how Jesus told the lame man, “Get up and walk.” Like it happened that fast. We say, “It was a miracle.” And yet when WE HEAL over the course of several weeks or months we think, Whatever. No big deal. Like the healings and good fortunes in our lives AREN’T miracles because they didn’t come in a flash, with fireworks. And yet miracles come at all speeds, in all shapes and sizes. Rarely do they announce themselves. When I met this woman the other day, who truly did help me out and provide a lot of peace of mind in terms of loving myself “as is” and not comparing myself to others, there weren’t any trumpets. Just an empty restaurant and a bowl of chili.

More and more I believe we really don’t know what heaven is up to, or what it’s capable of. We imagine we do, but when the divine begins to act in our lives, when it sends us help just like that, we dismiss it. We say, “What a strange coincidence.” Rather than recognizing these events as answered prayers, as graces. That’s what I see my being hungry as the other day. A grace. Like, God wanted me to meet someone but couldn’t just drop her in my lap. So that morning he sent me the thought to eat a light breakfast, and then down the rabbit hole we went.

The mystic Meister Eckhart said, “God is bound to act, to pour himself into thee as soon as he shall find thee ready.” And whereas I don’t claim to be ready (whatever that means) or to be filled with God, my point is that if you’re asking God for help, know that you can expect an answer. What’s more, as Caroline Myss says, know that when “that side” plays ball, they play to win. In other words, expect that–when the time is right–your life will be flooded with any and all help you need–to heal, to succeed, to help others, to fulfill your purpose.

In other words, Buddy, get ready. The team that’s got your back can seriously make shit happen.

For the last two days I’ve been obsessed with Charlie Puth’s song “Patient.” It’s about a boyfriend who’s begging his girlfriend to “please be patient with me” as he learns to be the man he knows she wants and needs. But when I hear it I imagine that the divine is asking me to please be patient with it. Because although it’s capable of healing or doing anything in the blink of an eye, more often it doesn’t. More often heaven answers our pleas over time because we need time–to change, to adjust to a new way of thinking, a new way of being. So please, just because things aren’t happening as fast as you’d like, don’t believe that things aren’t happening. For you and through you. Underground, seeds are sprouting. Roots are being laid down. In places you can’t see and in ways you’ll never understand, your cries for help are being answered.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We may never be done, but that doesn't mean we'll never be complete. And surely we are complete right here, right now, and surely there is space enough for the full moon, for you and for me, and all our possibilities.

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On Being a Time Traveler (Blog #1062)

This afternoon I saw my upper cervical care doctor and told him I’ve been out of sorts this last week–my skin’s flared up, my sciatic nerve’s been “talking to me,” my shoulder’s been pinched. “You probably need an adjustment,” he said. “Let’s put your head on straight.” (Ha.) This after his telling me two weeks ago that I needed an adjustment but that he wanted to wait, to see if my body would correct things on its on. (This was like a dare, I guess.) And whereas things were better last week, they were–apparently–crap today. “We want to push your body to take care of itself so it doesn’t get dependent on the adjustment, but sometimes we push a little TOO much,” he said.

Ugh. Balance is such a delicate thing.

Thankfully, I’ve felt better since the adjustment. Immediately after, I felt my shoulder relax. Not completely, mind you, but some. So far, this has been my experience with healing. Things get better–some. Then the slip back–a bit. Then they get better–some more. I’ve felt and witnessed some amazing things in my body and have ultimately found myself going in the right direction, but it’s not like I feel fabulous all over every minute of every day. Still, I’ve felt fabulous enough, especially compared to how I used to feel, that I absolutely believe my body is hard at work and can turn this ship around. My job, of course, is to do everything I can to support us and, perhaps more importantly, frickin’ be patient.

You know, some ships turn around faster than others.

More and more I believe that my body is on my side, that, given the right help, it’s completely willing and able to let go, change, and heal. Granted, figuring out what the right help is can be frustrating. Having tried dozens of different therapies and modalities over the years, I know. Whenever I have a pain it can feel hopeless. And yet time and time again, especially lately, I’ve witnessed my body rise to the occasion both in the moment and over the course of days, weeks, months. (Which, incidentally, in the grand scheme of things is no time at all.) So I can’t say that miracles aren’t possible because I’ve experienced them.

Caroline Myss says a miracle is something that happens faster than your watch. To me this means that whenever something happens faster than we THINK it should or are accustomed to, that’s miraculous. This is why I say I’ve experienced miracles. Because although the healing I’ve been experiencing lately is taking time (just as everything on planet earth does), it’s taking LESS time than it was before. For example, yesterday–in an hour with my new therapist–I processed and healed with my mind and body a topic that I’d previously–over the course of six years with my therapist and this blog–only processed with my mind. Was it instant? No, but it was pretty damn fast. Pretty damn miraculous if you ask me.

As far as I can tell, a situation like this is the closest any of us will ever get to time travel. What I mean is that every single person on this planet gets 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365.25(ish) days a year. But not every single person experiences the time they’ve been given the same way. Better said, not everyone has the same relationship with time. What I mean is that if it takes one person six years to process a trauma and another person one hour, isn’t time moving more slowly for the first person and more quickly for the second? And if things used to happen slowly for you and now they’re happening faster, hasn’t time effectively sped up for you, even though you’d never know it to look at a calendar? Even though you could never prove it to anyone else?

Something else Caroline says is that the more psychic WEIGHT you have, the longer you have to WAIT for things (a new job, a new lover, a healing) to happen. Weight=wait. This is why a master like Jesus could make things happen in an instant. Faster than your watch. Because he wasn’t heavy, he wasn’t psychically anchored to the past or the future (which, by the way, don’t exist right here, right now). This is why he taught his disciples to give no thought for tomorrow, to stay in present time. Think of a ship that’s bogged down with cargo. The heavier the cargo, the slower the ship. But throw the crap overboard and watch the ship fly. Less weight=less wait.

Along these lines, and maybe I watched too many episodes of Quantum Leap when I was a kid, I’m beginning to see each of us as time machines, always and forever determining the rate at which change happens in our lives. For example, earlier today I told a friend about once when I left a relationship because I found out there were too many lies, too many drugs involved. Well, I had some shit at this person’s house, and it took me 48 hours to gather it up. This after years of observing bad behavior and not putting the pieces together. Now, I hope, I’d be out of there in five minutes. Or never get involved in the first place. In this sense we truly do determine WHERE we as time travelers want to GO by deciding how much TIME we’re willing to spend there. How do you get out of a bad situation faster? Easy. Throw your personal crap overboard and, in so doing, change yourself and your life (two things you can’t separate). That’s the damn deal. Time only changes when you do.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Storms don’t define us, they refine us.

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On Being a Guinea Pig (Blog #1061)

This evening I’ve been thinking about being a guinea pig. What I mean is that’s how I see myself, as a walking experiment. For example, over the last few years I’ve tried a number of things to help with a number of things: body odor, acid reflux, headaches, you name it. And whereas some of the things I’ve tried have been conventional, many of them have not. Not that I’m absolutely sold on home remedies and weird shit (because a lot of it is bogus), but–let’s face it–conventional approaches don’t always get the job done. I can’t tell you the number of college-educated doctors I’ve asked about my issues, yes, to be helped some, but also to only be told, “You’re an enigma” or “You’ve got me there.”

Used to, these sorts of answers would cause me to despair. Like, it’s hopeless. I’m fucked. More and more, I’m not bothered when someone–even a professional–says they don’t know what to do. Why? Because that lets me know THEY’RE not the one I’m looking for, the one with the answer. And I don’t begrudge them for this. After all, it’s good to know where NOT to look (or whom NOT to date), and just because someone doesn’t have every piece of a puzzle doesn’t mean they don’t have a piece of it. Dr. Johan Boswinkel said, “I believe that truth has 144 sides.” To me this means that we can’t expect one person to be able to solve all our problems, whether that one person is a doctor, a therapist, or even us. It takes a village to see the entire picture.

To solve the entire problem.

Along these lines, for example, I’ve made huge strides with sinus infections thanks to a blog I found online. Still, last week I asked my primary care physician about ways to deal with post nasal drip, and next week I have an appointment with the ENT who performed my sinus surgery three years ago (which helped with, well, breathing) to ask them the same question. There was a time in my life I would have only sought out one opinion, but now I just don’t believe that’s enough.

How many opinions are enough? However many it takes to get the answer you want. This is what I mean by being a guinea pig. I’m so determined to heal–whatever that means–that I’m willing to ask almost anyone, to try almost anything. Rather than suffer. I don’t know. There’s just something in me that keeps hoping, keeps insisting that life can be better. Better than it has been. Better than it is. Not that the past and present have been completely awful (all of the time), but I’m convinced there’s something more. Not out there, but in here. Inside of me.

I’m talking about potential.

Fortunately, my keep-hoping, never-quit, good-God-I-need-an-answer-right-now-damn-it-because-I’m-exhausted attitude has started to pay off. Over the last few months my body has begun to heal and to change thanks to upper cervical care. Thanks to the new therapist I’ve started seeing (in addition to my regular therapist and whose methods I intend to discuss more fully soon) and the myofascial release practitioner I mentioned last week, I’ve processed and let go of emotions that have been hidden in my body for decades. Ugh. It’s been said that emotions buried alive never die, and I’ve found this to be true. Just because you stuff something down doesn’t mean it’s not there. Sooner or later, all our feelings must be felt, expressed, and assimilated. Otherwise they’ll simply show up as our neuroses (anxieties, fears, compulsions, addictions) or, perhaps worse, our dis-eases (pains, ailments).

Honestly, my discomforts and diseases over the years have been the main reason I’ve worked so hard to “get better” mentally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually. (I believe you can’t separate the four.) My Reiki teacher says our bodies are our sounding boards, meaning they let us know when something in our life needs attention or is out of balance. Of course, achieving balance is a delicate undertaking and seems to require a lifelong commitment. So be it. Perhaps this is why we’ve been given life in the first place, so that both we as individuals and we as a collective can come to a greater sense of harmony.

Perhaps.

Getting back to the idea that it takes a village, when I think about the healing I’ve experienced over the last few years and even the last few months, I’d like to be clear. As much as I love my therapist and wouldn’t be without her, I also wouldn’t be without this new therapist I’m seeing. Nor would I be without my primary care physician, my ENT, or my myofascial release practitioner. Nor would I be without, well, myself, since I’ve figured out a number of things no one on my “healing team” has been able to. Not that I’m so fabulous. For every piece I’ve figured out, I have dozens of websites, books, and YouTube videos (and their producers) to credit.

So. We’re all in this together.

All this to say that if you’re struggling with something, if you’re looking for answers, if you’re, well, human, hang in there. It’s a big universe (with a big internet), and you’ve got more options now than ever. Granted, there are certain things we’re just “stuck with” for life (and we all have to get off this planet somehow), but more and more I believe our bodies and souls are capable of more than we give them credit for, certainly more than we’ve been led to believe. So keep trying, keep searching. Until you find your Self. Keep being a guinea pig until you find Balance. When it comes to others, especially experts, take them with a grain of salt. They are, after all, only human. No one knows everything. And only you get to say what your potential is.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Nothing was made to last forever.

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On What We’re Capable of (Blog #1048)

Today I saw my therapist, and we talked about scarcity versus abundance. Mainly because over the last year I’ve had a number of “dodgy” clients who haven’t been up front about what they wanted and/or have tried to manipulate me into doing more work than we originally agreed to. “I can’t figure out if the universe wants to you learn a lesson,” my therapist said, “of if it’s just that you live in a psychic field of scarcity that affects everyone in it.” Later we talked about how for the last several years I’ve done a lot of odd job work and about how, although I’m grateful for the work because it’s kept me afloat and allowed me to focus on writing, I’d really rather be doing other things. “I want to make my living as an artist,” I said. “I have gifts to give and want to give them.”

“And be paid an appropriate amount for them,” my therapist added.

I don’t know that me and my therapist reached an exact conclusion on this matter. She did suggest being “friends” with my money as much as possible. You know, taking care of it, not being so afraid to count what I have or don’t have. Mostly I mention all this because I imagine that there are other people like me who 1) struggle with the idea of abundance and 2) wish they could make a living with their gifts and talents but continuously find themselves “just getting by” through other means.

“I’ve been just getting by for a while now,” I told my therapist.

“It’s probably bordering on intolerable,” she said.

Accurate.

I guess this post is partly about hope, the idea that even if you’ve struggled with something for a while, it can still turn around. This afternoon I saw my upper cervical doctor and told his secretary that although I’m still not perfect (something is pinched in my shoulder), I’ve only had one headache in the last month. This down from as many as four or five a week only three months ago. Seriously, they were so bad I was beginning to think nothing could help them. This is just the way it is, and all that. And y’all, I still think that about a handful of problems and challenges in my life, including my work and finances. But if one longstanding pain in the ass can turn around, so can another.

And another and another and another.

This evening I’ve been thinking about how we really don’t know what we and our bodies are capable of until we experience it. Sure, we can read about miraculous healings in books (or on blogs), but until WE experience something phenomenal in OUR body, it’s just not the same. Three months ago immediately following my first upper cervical adjustment I felt my body release emotions and shift and move itself in ways I never had before. Indeed, it was like a science fiction movie, something I didn’t think was possible. Not because my body wasn’t designed to do it, but because I didn’t KNOW my body was designed to do it.

Along these lines, much of the growth I’ve experienced through therapy has looked like me going, “I didn’t know I could do that.” This morning my dad said, “You like to confront people.” Well, it’s not that I LOVE it, I just despise the alternative, stuffing everything down, playing games, being passive aggressive. Better said, I’ve simply seen that these strategies cause more pain that they’re worth. My point being that five years ago no one would have ever said that I liked to confront people. They would have called me an avoider, a peace maker. Even I would have thought, I can’t. I just can’t confront. It’s not who I am. But having spoken up successfully on dozens of occasions, I now know that I was wrong about myself.

I just didn’t know what I was designed to do (that is, be honest).

Today my upper cervical doctor said that my nervous system looked out of whack. “You really need an adjustment,” he said, “but I’m not going to give you one.”

“Huh?” I said.

“Well, look at this,” he said, pointing to my patient history. “Here we adjusted you, and you went two weeks just fine. Then we adjusted you, and it was two more weeks. Then we adjusted you again, and here we are two weeks later. So your body’s in a pattern. It’s EXPECTING the adjustment to only last two weeks.”

“So your hope is that by going another week without an adjustment my nervous system will figure out that it’s supposed to be taking care of things without your help?” I said.

“Exactly,” he said.

Now, there’s part of me that wishes my doctor had made a correction today. Like, it might have helped my shoulder. Sitting here now, I could be more comfortable. But I’m reminded that a certain amount of discomfort isn’t necessarily a bad thing. So often we find ourselves in unproductive patterns–ways of thinking about money and ourselves, ways of acting–and stay in them because they ARE comfortable, familiar. And whereas challenging ourselves to step out of these patterns may be scary, it’s absolutely necessary if we want to discover what we’re really capable of.

This is, of course, more than we ever thought possible.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Allowing someone else to put you down or discourage your dreams is, quite frankly, anything but self-care.

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On Tuition (Blog #1044)

Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

Over a week ago my parents’ garage door broke. Well, a gear inside the motor broke. Alas, I found out the manufacturer doesn’t make or sell replacement parts for their thirty-year-old motors. (Who knows why?) Thankfully, I found someone on eBay who does, so I ordered a new gear last Friday. And whereas I wasn’t absolutely sure that it would work, I decided when it arrived in the mail this afternoon that it would. Yippee. Sometimes God throws you a bone.

The way our specific garage door motor is set up is 1) there’s a motor that turns a crank, 2) that crank turns a big gear, 3) that big bear turns a small gear, and 4) that small gear moves the chain (and the chain moves the actual garage door). Well, when I got to looking, the only hangup with the replacement gear (the black one below) was that the second, smaller gear “sat” a little low, not quite in line with the chain. So I put a washer underneath it. Voila!

I wish I could tell you this was the only problem I had to solve this afternoon.

The next hangup I encountered was that because the motor and gears sit almost flush with the ceiling and are protected by a metal covering (not pictured), I had to run the chain through the gears BEFORE mounting the motor to the ceiling. But because the chain was connected to a bolt (that connects to a turnbuckle that keeps the chain tight) and the bolt wouldn’t fit through a plastic chain “holder” (pictured above, at top), I first had to remove the bolt by taking off the last chain link. Then, in an effort to tighten the chain and make sure it wasn’t too far this way or that way (because the position of the chain indirectly affects whether or not the garage door motor “thinks” the garage door is up or down), I broke the turnbuckle.

“Shit,” I said. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Of course, Lowe’s didn’t have the turnbuckle I needed, so I bought one that I thought I could make work. This involved drilling a hole in it so I could use a screw to connect it to the piece of hardware that actually carries or moves the garage door.

After I got the turnbuckle problem figured out, I mounted the motor to the ceiling and went to tighten the chain, which I first added the previously removed link to, holding it together with zip ties. This is when I realized the new turnbuckle’s bolts were SHORTER than the old turnbuckle’s bolts, so I had to ADD LENGTH by inserting a connecting link, which I stole from my bedroom where I was using it to hang a swag lamp.

The lesson: everything has more than one use. The other lesson: when problem-solving, you gotta think creatively.

THANKFULLY, all this rigging paid off. After I tightened the chain and reconnected all the electrical wires, everything worked fine. A little noisier than before, but fine. Is our garage door a little janky? Sure. But a brand new one would have cost $200-$350, and for the price of $24 ($21 for the gear and $3 for the turnbuckle), we’ve got something that works.

Later when my dad thanked me, I said, “You’re welcome. And I don’t mind saying it was a pain in the ass.”

“I’m sure it was,” he said. And then, because he’s rarely outdone, he added, “But did you learn something?”

Of course, I had. Two weeks ago I had almost zero idea about how garage doors work, other than the fact that when you push a button they go up or down. But now after two solid afternoons getting my hands dirty in the garage, I understand most of the mechanics and some of the electronics. So I’m richer in experience, and my parents are richer in dollars.

As my Uncle Monty used to say, we’re all winners here.

Hey fella, why the long face?

This evening I went out to eat with my friend Kim and afterwards helped her feed her horses. Well, before we wrapped up she told me a story about a mutual friend of ours, a guy who’s married to a woman who was born in another country. As the story goes, the man and his wife were visiting her native land and took a taxi to get back to their hotel. Alas, the taxi driver was less than scrupulous and took the long route in hopes of procuring a higher fare.

“I’m not paying him extra,” the man told his wife when he realized they were being swindled.

“Yes, you will,” his wife replied. “You’ll pay the man and tell him this word.”

So at the end of the ride the man handed the taxi driver the higher fare and said the word his wife had told him to, at which point the taxi driver started shoving the man’s money back to him.

“What was the word?” I asked Kim.

“Tuition,” she said. “Apparently in the wife’s culture when someone teaches you a lesson, you owe them money for tuition. So when the man said ‘tuition’ to the taxi driver he was saying, ‘I owe you because you’ve taught me that you’re a thief. You’ve taught me not to trust you.'”

Isn’t this fabulous? Also, wouldn’t we all be broke if we paid tuition to all the people in our lives who taught us not to trust them? I know I would. I can’t tell you the number of valuable lessons I’ve learned through my bad relationships, my difficult encounters with friends, family, and clients. Probably more than through my good ones. More and more, I’m grateful for these lessons and the people who taught them to me. Recently I literally walked away from a salesman who was full of shit, and a friend of mine marveled at my bravery. But the only reason I could do it was because I’ve dated master bullshitters, been backed into dozens of corners by slick salesmen and non-stop talkers. My point being that every triumph I’ve had has come at a high price. Therapy alone has cost me THOUSANDS of dollars. (And yes, it’s been worth it. I’ve been worth it.) This is the deal on planet earth. Whether you’re dealing with people or garage doors, if you want to learn something new you’ve got to get your hands dirty. You’ve got to put in the time. You’ve got to–wait for it–pony up the dough.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"It's really good news to find out that the world isn't as scary as you thought it was."

On Manipulation and Cleaning Up Your Act (Blog #1039)

This afternoon I cleaned my room from top to bottom. Every book came off its shelf and was wiped down. Every knickknack came off its perch and was dusted. I pulled out my trundle bed and cleaned under there. (Talk about gross.) I even took apart the fan I turn on every night for white noise and cleaned it. You know how it’s difficult to clean a fan. Well, now mine is spic and span. No more dust on the blades. No more hairs wrapped around the propeller shaft. And whereas all of this took time, it was worth it. Sitting in my room now, I feel lighter, brighter.

God’s in his heaven, all’s right with the world.

Here’s something. Last week I did some yard work for a new client. Before agreeing to the job, I said, “I charge this much an hour,” and they said, “That’s great.” Well, it was a big job. Over the course of two days, I raked and bagged forty-six large bags of leaves in their backyard. When I finished I said, “I can take these bags around front if you’d like,” and they said, “Don’t worry about it.”

“Well,” I said, “if you think you’re going to want me to move the bags later, I’d rather do it now than come back.”

Again they said, “Don’t worry about it.”

So I totaled my hours, and they paid me. Also, they gave me a fire pit off their back porch. “You can have it if you’d like it,” they said. “I never use it.” And whereas I kept hearing my therapist say, “There’s no such thing as a free lunch,” I said, “Sure, if you don’t want it, I’ll take it off your hands.”

So I loaded it in my car, and that was that.

Or so I thought. What I mean is that this afternoon my client texted and said, “If you would put the leaves by the curb for pickup, that would be cool. They pick up Tuesday.” Well, something felt off to me about this, I guess because they didn’t actually ASK me to move the leaves. They just said, “That would be cool.” I mean, I think it’d be cool if someone would bring me breakfast in bed every day, but so far that hasn’t happened. Anyway, trying to determine if they wanted a favor or an employee, I replied, “I can do it later today. Also, it’ll probably be an additional one to two hours of labor/cost. Is that good?”

To which they replied, “Not really. I’m pretty tapped out. I can do it. Or we can call it a trade for the fire pit.”

Then they added, “Either way, I’m good.”

I responded, “I understand. And as I understood it, the fire pit was a gift. I’m happy to bring it back.”

“Oh no,” they said. “It’s fine. Enjoy it. It was just sitting there. Total misunderstanding.”

“Okay,” I said. “Thank you. Good luck with everything.”

Y’all, I hate shit like this, when someone refuses to be direct. When someone says one thing but means another. When someone gives you a gift and later uses it as a tool for manipulation. This is why more and more it’s important for me to be as clear in my personal and professional dealings as possible. “This is how much I charge an hour. I’d rather move the bags now than come back later. If you don’t want it, I’ll take it.” This being said, I understand that, especially in the south, it’s extremely difficult for people to ask for what they want in plain terms. It’s MUCH easier to say, “If you don’t mind, that’d be cool.”

Alas, having played the indirect game for decades, I get it. I really do. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve hinted or subtly suggested my wants and needs, especially in terms of money, work, and compensation. Indeed, not all that long ago I would have driven my ass to Fort Smith and broken my back hauling forty-six bags of leaves from this lady’s backyard to her front yard, all the time HOPING she intended to pay me. Instead of just asking up front, “Are you going to pay me?”

Here’s the great thing about being up front. It gives someone a chance to say yes or no. Likewise, it saves a lot of time and drama. Today when my client (um, former client) said, “That’s not really good,” the rest of my day opened up. Because I certainly wasn’t going to spend three to four hours of my life driving across the bridge, working, and later cleaning myself up without pay.

You know, because it would have been a “cool” thing to do.

The lesson that I continue to learn is that there’s no such thing as a free lunch. Does this mean that you should suspect everyone’s motives. No, I don’t think so. People are kind and do kind things every day. But, as Jesus said, be wise as serpents. Meaning that when a total stranger offers you a gift and later uses it as leverage, don’t be surprised. Meaning that in the future I could just ask, “Does this come with any strings attached?” And then the person could be honest. They could say, “No, I’d really like to get rid of it.” Or, “Yes, I was hoping you’d lower your rate or come back to move the bags for free.”

Getting back to the idea of manipulation, I think it’s important to call things for what they are. This being said, MOST of us have private agendas, so I don’t blame anyone for being indirect or trying to get me to do free work by way of guilt or any other strategy. I’ve done it. We’ve all done it. Still, it simply doesn’t work for me anymore. I prefer the direct, honest truth. Along these lines, no conversation about manipulation would be complete without pointing out (what should be) the obvious–it takes two to Tango, and it takes two to manipulate. What I mean is that someone can TRY to manipulate you, but you have to be complicit in their manipulation in order for it to work. Meaning you have to also be indirect, you have to FEEL guilty, and you have to DO the thing they’re asking you to. (Of course, if you do the thing with a conscious motive, like, “I’ll do this for free so they’ll like me and be my friend,” you’re also being manipulative. As Byron Katie would say–checkmate.)

So who’s fault would it have been had I gone to move the bags of leaves today and gotten stiffed? Mine. Because I would have known better, especially since my gut had alerted me to a problem.

All this to say that THIS is what the journey of self-discovery and growing up looks like. In fairy tales the hero faces giants and dragons, but in real life we face our clients, friends, and families. Better said, we face the fears and issues that our clients, friends, and families bring up in us. (And they face the ones we bring up in them.) Is this difficult? One the one hand, yes. It’s hell. It means being responsible and accountable for everything that happens in your life, or at least being responsible and accountable for the way you handle it. On the other hand, cleaning up your act (your communication, your life) is no more difficult than cleaning up your room. What I mean is that it happens one knickknack or interaction at a time.

Does this TAKE time?

Of course, but it’s worth it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can be weird here. You can be yourself.

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To Breathe Deep, to Laugh, to Cry (Blog #1036)

Last night I went to bed at two in the morning. And whereas I’d intended to get five and a half hours of sleep, I only got three and a half. Alas, shit happens. This being said, un-shit happens to. What I mean is that although life is full of trauma and drama, it’s also full of healing and comedy. Yesterday I re-started working on a 1000-piece puzzle, and I imagine I’ll be working on it for a while. But then one day, the final piece will slip into place, and it will be done. Over. Likewise, with this blog. Two months from today I’ll type my final word, make my final edits, and hit publish. Just like that, with the touch of a button, I’ll be on to something else.

Along these lines of healing and being done, this morning I had one of the most profound healing experiences I’ve ever had, thanks to a therapist who practices a method my therapist doesn’t (and whom my therapist encouraged me to see). But here’s the catch. I’m not allowed to talk about the experience until tomorrow. “Talk about anything else you want,” the guy said, “but don’t talk about what happened here until you’ve had a chance to sleep and let your body process.”

“Okay,” I said. “I can talk about what I had to drink for breakfast.”

Now, I realize that this may seem like a tease. Not the breakfast part, but the profound experience part. I’m sorry. I’ll get around to it later. Or at least I think I will, since I never know what I’m going to write about until I do. Honestly, I only mention it at all because I don’t have anything else to talk about and I promised myself a long time ago that I wouldn’t bullshit myself or anyone else on this blog. That is, if I were to pull some self-help lesson out of my ass right now and try to apply it to my day, I’m sure it would come across as disingenuous. And wants that? Certainly not me.

So what’s left to say, Marcus?

Well, currently I just finished breakfast and plan to wrap up this blog while chugging coffee. (Remember, I didn’t sleep much last night.) Then I’m going to spend the day shopping and running around with a friend, and tonight we’re going to see a show. Really, I can’t tell you how excited I am. Not simply to run around, but to be awake and alive not just to think about and overanalyze life, but to actually live it. So that’s the deal. I’m taking the rest of the day for me. To breathe deep, to laugh, to cry if I feel like it. To not miss one thing. To remember that there’s a time for planting seeds, and there’s a time for harvesting and celebration. To remember that deep healing is possible.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can’t play small forever.

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