Walking Through the Woods (Blog #347)

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This afternoon I saw my new dermatologist (my old one stopped accepting my insurance), and I showed up with a list of problems. Eight, to be exact. I’ll spare you the details, but the doctor listened then answered my questions one-by-one. Always overly worked-up about any health concern, I half-expected him to say, “It’s hopeless–you’re a leper,” but he didn’t. As a matter of fact, he acted as if he’d seen it all before, which I suppose he has. Anyway, he said I should keep an eye on a small cyst, recommended I use different powder to keep my skin dry, and cauterized some broken blood vessels on my face (ouch). Then he said, “As for your moles, don’t grow any more. There–another problem solved.”

When I left the dermatologist’s office, I went to the Department of Motor Vehicles to get a duplicate registration for my antique car. (I lost my old registration.) According to the “take a number” number I took when I walked in, there were forty people ahead of me. Since there were a hundred the last time I stopped by, I decided to stay.

Y’all, I seriously think the DMV was modeled after one of Dante’s Circles of Hell. It’s not cute to look at, the lighting is terrible, and the chairs are uncomfortable. (Clearly a gay man was not involved in the design process.) Additionally, everyone who goes there has to wait, and yet there aren’t any magazines to look at, nor is there any coffee to drink. Even the place where I get my oil changed has coffee! The people who work at the DMV call out numbers one-by-one, but if you don’t jump straight up like a jackrabbit when it’s your turn, they skip right over you. (Three-thousand and forty-six!) It’s worse than bingo at the Methodist church. And when they do call your number, it’s not like you get to ride Space Mountain or anything fun as a reward for all your time in line. Nope–you get to hand them money.

What a racket.

My standards have, quite frankly, plummeted as of late.

After it was all said and done, I think I spent about forty-five minutes at the DMV today, and the replacement registration only cost me a dollar. So life could be worse. (Could it, Marcus?) Afterwards, I went to Walmart to pick up the powder the dermatologist recommended. Y’all, I was so excited because the doctor gave me a coupon–two whole dollars off! I would normally shudder to use a coupon, but my standards have, quite frankly, plummeted as of late. So I found the powder, pulled out my coupon, and got in line. (Again, with the waiting.) Well, I immediately got pissed off because the cashier started talking to the customer in front of me about her brother-in-law, who recently had a stroke. She went on and on about it, then told the customer, “Have a blessed day.”

Okay. I’m not TRYING to be a complete dick here. I’m sorry this lady and her family have problems. I get it–I’ve got problems to. (I write a blog about them.) But as a former business owner, I just don’t think it’s appropriate to verbally vomit on your customers. All right–so this was the mood I was in–a little irritated–and then it was my turn to check out. Handing the lady the powder, I proudly presented my coupon. Well, shit. She said it was expired. Realizing I hadn’t even bothered to look at the print on the back, I shrugged my shoulders and said, “Okay.” But then she held the coupon in my face and recited the expiration date to me. “Twelve, thirty-one, two-thousand-seventeen.”

I said, “I believe you.”

Waving the coupon around as if she were swatting at flies, she replied, “Sometimes they print them really small, but this clearly says it expired a few months ago.”

I said, “I believe you.”

Oh my gosh, I was so mad. Like, let it go, lady. (Let it go, Marcus.)

After this disconcerting encounter, I saw my therapist. For a while we discussed my health and how I’ve felt so beat-down, kicked-around, and worn-out lately. My therapist said, “I’m not a medical doctor, but I think you’re going to outlive all of us. This is a difficult patch for you, but I really believe you’re going to come through it.” Then she said, “We’ve entered a new part of the woods in your warrior training. (She’s never referred to our sessions as “warrior training” until today–GRRR!) This is the part where you have to keep believing in yourself no matter how difficult things get.”

Y’all, I hate this part.

Later my therapist and I (the grammar nerd in me almost called the blog, My Therapist and I) discussed my upcoming blog birthday. Today’s blog is number 347, so that means that in less than three weeks, I will have met my original goal–one year–365 days in a row of writing. I can’t tell you how much this stresses me out. Granted, on one hand, I’m getting excited. I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished here and intend to celebrate. On the other hand, I’m terrified because I don’t know what to do next. Do I keep blogging or do I quit and work on other projects? If I keep blogging, do I change topics–do I change blogs? These are questions I ask myself.

This evening I’ve been feeling “all the pressure.” When I got home earlier, I noticed a red patch of skin that must have “flared up” after I left the dermatologist office, so I’ve been freaking out about it. What if something is horribly wrong? Also, I’ve been thinking that I’ve “got” to figure out the blog. My therapist and I discussed the possibility of my adding a donation page for those who would like to support me and this project (something I’ve been hesitant to do), and I’ve been worried about making “the right” decision.

Honestly, I’m overwhelmed. Life has been a lot to handle for quite a while now, and my plate is full. (Did you hear that, Lord? My plate is full. F-U-L-L, full.) I know this is why I’m irritated by every little thing and am overly concerned that something else, even something small, will go “wrong.” This last weekend I was at a coffee shop, and a little kid came out of the bathroom and was trying to open the door to go outside. Just a toddler, he was leaning on it with his entire body. Looking at me, he said, “I’m not strong enough to open it.” This is what life feels like for me lately, like I’m doing every damn thing I can here, and doors still aren’t opening.

We all walk through the woods together.

Yes, I did help the little kid open the door. And since then, I really have been working on coming around to the idea of letting others help and not trying to do everything myself. Today my dermatologist said, “Call us if things get out of hand.” (Uh, sir, things got out of hand a long time ago.) I know my therapist is there if I need her. I still haven’t settled everything from the car accident I was in last year, and tonight I had two attorney friends say, “Let us know when you want us to step in. We do this all the time.” This is really good for me to remember, that I’m not alone in all this, that just because I’m struggling doesn’t mean I’m struggling alone. We all walk through the woods together.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There’s no such thing as a small action. There’s no such thing as small progress.

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Magnificent (Blog #342)

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It’s one in the morning, and I technically started blogging almost two hours ago. That is, I inserted the above picture then quickly got distracted by YouTube videos about Walt Disney. Last night I watched a Netflix movie about him, and at the end of the film he’s quoted as saying, “You may not realize it when it happens, but a kick in the teeth may be the best thing in the world for you.” So that’s where the distraction started–I wanted to see if he actually said it (he did).

Since one thing led to another, I now know more about Walt (he preferred first names) and Disney World than I ever wanted to. Like cast members (their term for employees) have to use two fingers or their whole hand to point, since using only one finger to point is considered rude in some countries. And some of their restaurants have machines that pump the smell of tasty food out into the streets in order to lure customers in and buy, say, cinnamon rolls.

Well, shit. Now I’m hungry.

Anyway, this is how I’ve been distracting myself the last twenty-four hours, with movies and YouTube videos. Before I went to bed last night I took my temperature, and it was 101. It was back to normal this morning, but I’m pretty sure I’m dealing with the flu here. Again. Potentially a less dramatic strain than last time (just a few weeks ago), since my body hasn’t been too achy. Still, I’m full of mucus, my energy is shot, and my neck is stiff as a board. I spoke to my therapist today in order to confirm my next appointment and told her I was seriously sick and tired of this nonsense. She said, “As well you should be.”

Earlier today I re-watched the movie What About Bob? If you haven’t watched it, you should. It’s about a germaphobe named Bob who gets a new therapist then immediately cons his way into being part of the therapist’s family vacation. The therapist keeps saying, “This is not appropriate,” and “The therapist-patient relationship is built on trust, and you destroy that when you lie to me.” But Bob can’t help himself. Despite his therapist’s objections and–much like a nasty flu virus–he keeps coming back.

This afternoon I got the results of my latest bloodwork. I’m clearly not a doctor, but I think they were good. Not a single thing that was tested was out of range. On one hand, I guess it’s nice to know that I’m “normal.” Nothing appears to be glaringly wrong. But on the other hand, I was kind of hoping for something–anything–to be out of range, since I’d like an explanation for why I’ve felt so bad for so long. Again, I don’t know what the numbers mean. Recently my B12 levels tested as in range, and later my doctor said that they were actually low for someone my age. So it could be something like that.

Since my doctor has a patient portal system used to ask her questions, I sent her a message to find out more about the bloodwork. But, y’all, I’m starting to feel like Bob in What About Bob? When I logged into the patient portal system, it showed like eight messages I’ve sent since becoming a patient (eight weeks ago). Granted, I’m not knocking on my physician’s door but I feel like I’m becoming THAT guy. Part of me thinks I’m being a bother, but another part of me thinks, I’m dying over here–it’s okay to ask for help (and I’ll be glad to stop when I freaking feel better.) So I keep sending messages, and they (the doctor and her nurse) keep replying.

In other news, Dad came home from the hospital today. I said yesterday that they’d put three stints in him, but apparently it was five. Three new ones and two to replace or “beef up” the two old ones. He said the last time he had stints put in, he came home feeling like a new man. Today he said, “I do not feel like a new man.” I think this means that they are still figuring things out, adjusting his medications, scheduling follow-up appointments. Another movie I watched today (that was about a Pakistani stand-up comedian who falls in love with a white girl) was called The Big Sick. (It was slow to start but surprisingly delightful.) Anyway, I’m thinking of using this phrase to refer to our household and this time in our lives–The Big Sick.

You’ve got to believe that things can turn around.

My therapist says that I’m too bitter to die young. “Only tender, precious people die young,” she says. “So don’t worry. Your time’s not up yet.” I’m not sure if any of this is true, but it does make me smile. It does give me hope. I guess Walt Disney worked for nine or ten years as a struggling animator before he came up with Mickey Mouse. Like, it was bad. He was broke. He couldn’t pay his employees. He got evicted from his apartment and his office. His dad told him to get “a real job.” I guess the lesson is that when life does kick you in the teeth, you’ve got to hold on. You’ve got to believe in yourself and even in life, the thing that’s doing the kicking. You’ve got to believe that things can turn around, that even difficult situations–perhaps only difficult situations–can turn you into something magnificent.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Nothing is set in stone here.

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The Place Where Quantum Leaps Occur (Blog #339)

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This afternoon I read about fifty pages in a book called Reality Is Not What It Seems by Carlo Rovelli. The book is about quantum physics, and I stopped reading it (for now) when my brain melted and ran out of my ears. Seriously, the book is well-written, but the subject matter (get it–physics–matter?) is dense.

Apparently, part of quantum theory states that electrons orbiting an atom can change orbits, much like if you were orbiting the sun on Earth then suddenly found yourself orbiting the sun on Saturn. But here’s the deal–electrons don’t take a bus, or even a straight or curved line to get from one orbit to another. They’re just in one place and then the next. This phenomenon is what’s properly called a “quantum leap.” (And here I thought “quantum leap” was a television show starring Scott Bakula.)

Holy atomic hopscotch, Batman.

One of the big names in quantum theory is a guy named Werner Heisenberg. He’s dead now but was the one who came up with the idea that in between being at one point and another, an electron is “nowhere.” He formulated this theory one night while in a dark parking lot. There were a few street lamps around, and he saw a man walking across the pavement. He could see the man under one lamp and then the next, but not in between them. Of course, he imagined the man’s trajectory in the dark spaces, but it was as if the man simply disappeared then reappeared elsewhere. So Heisenberg thought, What if subatomic particles behaved like that?

Well, it turns out they do. Crazy, right?

Recently I asked my therapist for her opinion about a psychology book I’d just finished reading. Rather than give me a direct answer, she said, “Let me ask you a question. Do you think I’m more competent than you are–at life?”

“Well,” I kind of sputtered, “No. I don’t actually.”

“Good,” she said. “I’m glad you can see reality.”

My therapist went on to say that in terms of her profession, she obviously has a specific set of skills that I don’t, just like I have a specific set of skills that she doesn’t when it comes to dancing. So in these aspects, perhaps one of us is more competent than the other. Sometimes one person “knows” more than the next. But my therapist’s point was that when it comes to handling life in general, she and I equal. I said, “My only hesitation in answering earlier was that at one time I would have said you were more competent at life than I was.”

Y’all, I can’t say when this change in my thinking took place, I just know that it did. At one time I thought anyone who was smarter, richer, more talented, or better looking than me was better than me overall. But now–I’m glad to say–that thinking seems utterly ridiculous. This shift in perspective is so great, in fact, that I feel like an electron that’s made a quantum leap. It’s as if I’ve suddenly jumped from one orbit, one way of being in the world, to another. Quite literally, I’m on a different path. When I think about Heisenberg’s parking lot/street lamp story, it really does feel as if I used to be “there,” then I was “nowhere,” and now I’m “here.”

(I don’t know what my deal with quotation marks is tonight.)

Granted, I realize this isn’t how the changes in our lives and thought processes actually occur. Presto, change-o. Despite the fact that I can remember one point of light in my life and compare it to another, current point of light in my life and feel as if I’ve made a quantum leap, I can also remember walking through the dark in order to get from where I was to where I am now. But I can’t say when the shift actually happened. I’m glad I did, but I can’t say when exactly I stepped into this current point of light.

This is the beauty of walking through the dark.

If you want my honest opinion, some days I think I’m still walking through the dark. I mean, life has been a real bitch lately. As an episode of Breaking Bad points out, sometimes you’re looking for a light at the end of the tunnel, and all you get is more tunnel. Maybe it’s possible to be in the light and in the dark at the same time. Going back to quantum theory, there’s something called indeterminancy. Inderterminancy states that when, say, an electron does move from one point to another, it doesn’t follow a predictable path. In fact, it behaves as if it were following all possible paths. (Wrap your head around that.) But the point is that when an electron is in between points, when it’s “nowhere,” you don’t “know where” it’s going to end up next. So perhaps this is the beauty of walking through the dark, of those times in our lives when it feels as if we too are nowhere. Nowhere, it turns out, isn’t a bad place to be. Rather, it’s the place where quantum leaps occur, the place where changes can happen in an instant, the place where all possible outcomes are exactly that–possible.

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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All of My Refrigerators (Blog #338)

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Last night I watched the movie Wonder and cried all the way through. It’s about a boy with a genetically deformed face and his struggle for acceptance, both from himself and others. The movie is based on the novel (with the same title) by R.J. Palacio, and I actually enjoyed it more than the book. The book is broken up so that each chapter is told by a different character, and although I loved the overall story, I had trouble “settling in” because the point of view kept changing. I never could get past the writing. But that wasn’t a problem last night with the movie. I was totally settled in. I was a mess.

You should watch it and be a mess too.

Today I slept in until one in the afternoon. (It’s two now. I’ve already had breakfast and am currently blogging. I am ON it.) Anyway, I’m teaching and performing tonight at a local USO dance. It’s a fundraiser, and I believe the organizers are planning to whore me out for “$5 dollars dances.” My grandpa was in the Navy, and here’s what he said about whores–“Five dollars, five minutes.” So I guess that will be my slogan for the evening. All this to say that I tried to get as much sleep as possible last night because I plan on being worn out this evening. In the best way, of course.

One of my friends messaged me and said, “Are you psyching yourself up for all the dances tonight?” Except instead of saying “psyching yourself up,” she said “patching yourself up.” (Freaking autocorrect.) I said, “I’ll be patching myself up AFTER.”

I had a lot of dreams last night. Now I can’t stop thinking about them. That’s the damn thing about deciding to pay attention to your dreams (or anyone). Once they see you’re interested, they won’t leave you alone. Give ’em an inch, they’ll take a mile. (Rude, I know.) Anyway, the main dream last night involved my being at a large mansion for some sort of party. First my friends and I had to make it through the gate, this large, wrought-iron deal. Once we made it inside, there were tons of rooms and–get this–tons of refrigerators. More than any one person could ever need. They were inside and outside. It was like an ice-box collection. They were all full of food, and, of course, I was on the search for just the right thing to eat.

My therapist says houses always represent yourself, your life, your physical person. So the fact that I’m dreaming about mansions, I think, is a good thing. Maybe I’m bigger than I realize. It’s obviously taken some work (the iron gate) to get inside, but now that I’m here, maybe it’s almost time for the party (the fun part of life). As for the refrigerators, I’ve been dreaming about them for the last few years. They just show up now and then–usually only one of them–and I’ve never been able to figure out their meaning. I read online that they refer to “cold emotions,” but my therapist says online dream dictionaries (and all dream dictionaries) are bullshit. Anyway, when I woke up this morning, the meaning of the refrigerators was clear as day. I thought, Duh. They represent stored energy. They represent my potential.

I can’t tell you how exciting this revelation is. I just looked at some of my digital dream journals for other refrigerator dreams. In one of them, I was cleaning paint off the outside (getting ready to clean things up). In a later one, the inside of the refrigerator was empty except for some Post-It Notes (meaning I still had things to do). The last time I dreamed about a refrigerator, there were juice bottles inside, but they were empty (I felt like I was out of juice?). In last night’s dream, there wasn’t just one refrigerator, but dozens–inside and outside–and all full of food. I can only assume, since the dream came from my unconscious, that this means I have no idea how much stored energy is waiting to be used in both my interior and exterior life.

You get to hope for a better ending.

That being said, I’m currently exhausted. I’m ready to start dreaming about microwaves, about actually eating some of that food in those refrigerators. (Let’s use that potential!) Still, I’m grateful to see the progression. This is one of the nice things about paying attention to your dreams and (sometimes) writing them down. You get to see that–deep down–something is actually going on with you, that there’s progress being made even when you feel like life is punching you in the gut. Like the movie I watched last night, you get to watch yourself struggle then overcome and find acceptance. As you see your story changing, you get to hope for a better ending than the one you’ve always imagined. You get to believe it could actually come true.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There’s nothing you can do to change the seasons or hurry them along.

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The F2 Button (Blog #336)

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Last night I dreamed that I was at summer camp, in the winter. I was with a friend, and we decided to go for a run. I was in short sleeves with an orange vest on, a vest I actually own in real life that’s like the one Michael J. Fox wore in Back to the Future. Someone pointed out that the tag said, “F2.” Anyway, we jogged around, and it was like an outdoor museum. There were statues. At some point I encountered a policeman who started bothering me, and I told him to give me a break, man. Then I climbed up on a rock, which apparently I wasn’t supposed to be on, since a camp counselor picked up where the policeman left off. More vocal than normal, I said, “Give it a rest. I’m not hurting anyone.” And then I woke up.

I didn’t actually get out of bed until almost four today. I guess I needed the rest. Currently it’s midnight. I’ve only been awake for eight hours, but I’m wiped out. I’m really trying to be patient with my body.

This morning some friends brought my mom home from the hospital, where she stayed last night with my dad. This afternoon I took her back to the hospital, and I stayed for several hours and ran a couple errands for my parents. Dad is stable. From what I understand, the current goal is to drain as much fluid off of him as possible, anywhere from thirty to fifty pounds. (Wow.) The cardiologist would like to run some further tests, but they’re taking it day-by-day, trying to determine what Dad’s heart can handle.

Since Dad’s overweight, the hospital got him an oversized bed. It has a trapeze bar that hangs down over his torso so he can pull himself up or get situated right. This evening Dad told one of the nurses that he and Mom were going to “test out the trapeze tonight.” The nurse laughed, but I rolled my eyes, since I’ve been listening to Dad tell slightly inappropriate jokes to strangers for over thirty years. Later Mom told the nurse, “Marcus is a boundaries person.”

So apparently I’m getting a reputation. I can’t wait to tell my therapist.

All day long I’ve been trying to make sense of last night’s dream. When I think about summer camp, all my thoughts are positive. That being said, when I worked at summer camp, it was during a time in my life when I was my least authentic. So my guess is that my subconscious is trying to communicate that there’s a way to live life and have fun and at the same time be my true self. Like running (for me), this is a challenge, and I think the summer camp in winter thing represents just how challenging the search for authenticity is, since (personally) I hate winter.

The statues most likely represent my past, my un-alive or inauthentic self, so I think it’s good that I was running by them. Likewise, I think it was good that I was wearing the Back to the Future vest. For one thing, the vest is extremely warm, which tells me that there’s a way to make it through even the most difficult winter. Also, I think “back to the future” speaks to the idea that sometimes you have to go back before you can forward, or perhaps it simply means that I’m being prepared for the future and that my past is way over. Like, I can put it in a museum.

My favorite part of the dream is when I told the policeman and the camp counselor to back off, since those characters clearly represent the parts of my personality that require me to follow all the rules and “be perfect.” Apparently I’m finally getting to the point where I’m tired of and done with all that shit. Leave me alone. I’m not hurting anyone. Can’t you see I’m having fun, just being myself over here? And the fact that I was on a rock? Surely that means I’ve reached solid ground. Or that I myself am solid.

We’re allowed to relabel and remake ourselves.

The thing in the dream I’ve been most curious about today has been the “F2” label on the vest. My best guess is that it refers to the F2 button on a standard Windows keyboard. The F2 button is the “rename” function, a shortcut for changing a file’s name. This reminds me that I’m allowed to relabel and remake myself, not just with words but from the inside out. Like, I don’t have to spend the rest of my life as a self-demanding perfectionist. I don’t have to put up with someone else’s or even my own harassment. I don’t have to let people walk all over me. Marcus is a boundaries person. Even when life is cold and challenging, I can run toward authenticity. We all can.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You've got to believe that things can turn around, that even difficult situations--perhaps only difficult situations--can turn you into something magnificent.

"

As the Sun Rises (Blog #327)

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Today I attempted to have a normal day. I got up, fed the dogs I’m taking care of, scrambled myself some eggs. Then I settled into my laptop and answered some emails and worked on a couple side projects. It didn’t take long, however, for me to get overwhelmed. I got an estimate to replace the spark plugs in my car, and that reminded me that I don’t currently have a job. I thought, Maybe I should get one. Then I remembered that I’m still sick, so even if I had a job, I wouldn’t feel like going to it. Then I started feeling like I was completely behind “on life,” so I closed my laptop and tried to take a nap. When that didn’t work, I buried my nose in a book.

This evening I taught a dance lesson for a young couple who’s getting married this summer. As they were swing dancing, I kept sitting down, thinking, How do they have so much energy? Still, it was good for me to get out of the house, make a little money, and feel useful. Plus, it was helpful to be around people. When I stay by myself for too long, it’s easy for me to lose perspective. I start thinking things will never get better, things will never improve. My thoughts spiral down. In the midst of my problems, I forget that the sun comes up each morning.

This is my main challenge when I’m sick, being able to see my way into the future. When I’m well, I’m optimistic. I can think of a hundred ways in which my life could easily improve. But when I’m chronically ill, that optimism wanes. It’s like I get emotionally stuck in the mud. I start thinking of all the things that could go wrong, and I shut down, opting for distraction. I’m not convinced this is the worst thing in the world. Usually when I distract myself I’m still learning. And even if I’m not, who cares? As my therapist said recently, “If your life is such that you’re able to binge watch Netflix without hurting anyone, do it. Be grateful that you can.”

I think a big lesson I’m learning lately is to not try so hard, to sit back and relax, to let my body rest. This is tough for me. I’m a make-things-happen kind of person. I didn’t hear from the immunologist’s office today, and I’m already planning my next phone call or surprise office visit. Still, it does seem that answers often show up when we stop looking for them. This is the balance I’m working on–how much to push, how much to let go.

Mostly I’m simply trying to take things easy and truly be okay with that. Even in my present state, I could fill up every minute of every day with various projects, but I know I’d end up running myself further into the ground. So I’m trying to take it day by day and trust that at some point I’ll be back on track. My therapist says everything happens when it’s supposed to. So for now this is where I am, knowing that just as the sun rises, it never rises before its time.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Healing is never a straight line.

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My Therapist Says (Blog #326)

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Last night my hips ached so bad that I lay in bed moaning. I couldn’t sleep for the longest time. Today I rallied the troops in order to go to therapy. When I told my therapist how hard the flu had hit me, she said, “Why didn’t you cancel today?” I said, “No. I need to be here. And it’s good for me to get out of the house.” My therapist said that the flu had hit epidemic levels, that her doctor clients haven’t seen anything like it. She said she had it several weeks ago and still wasn’t back to a hundred percent.

So that’s encouraging.

Before therapy I stopped by the office of the immunologist my internist referred me to, since it’s been five weeks and I haven’t heard anything. It took some time, but the nurse found my referral papers. She then said she needed to talk to the doctor but would call me tomorrow afternoon. I told my therapist about this and that I nearly cried while I was waiting in the doctor’s office. I’m just tired of feeling bad. I’m desperate for help. My therapist said things like this always move in phases–just like therapy. Nothing happens all at once. She said to focus on the progress that’s been made already–I had sinus surgery last year, I can breathe now (that’s something). The next step is this doctor, and if this doctor can’t fit me in, then I look for another.

One thing at a time.

I can’t tell you what a nice reminder this is, to just slow down and breathe. I really do get worked up about this sort of thing. It always feels as if I need to heal NOW, get my life together NOW. My therapist says it’s my all-or-nothing mentality, my need for perfection. Today she said, “You’re already perfect the way you are, Marcus, and you’re always going to have “something” to work on, some challenge facing you. I think your big hangup is that you’re so focused on what still needs to be done that you don’t take time to celebrate all the progress you’ve already made.”

I said, “Nailed it.”

Later I told my therapist that I felt like life had really kicked my ass lately. This last week there was the flu and my car needing some work. “You’ve been through a lot this year,” she said. “You had the car accident. It’s this funny thing the universe does–whenever you really work on yourself, it puts more obstacles in your way.”

“Who made up those rules?” I said.

“Right?” she said. “But don’t worry. It gets better.”

So that’s encouraging.

Now it’s almost midnight, and I’m at a friend’s, house sitting. It took all my energy to pack and get me here, but I’m all settled in amongst the couch pillows and fast internet. So that’s something. I’m thinking about the fact that I’m coming up on four solid years in therapy and that I really have made a lot of progress. Despite the fact that things don’t always happen as quickly as I’d like them to, they obviously do happen. And if life can take me from where I was to where I am, then surely it can take me to where I’m going.

So that’s encouraging.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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No one dances completely alone.

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Taking Good Care (Blog #322)

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Today marks day five of the flu for me. My eyeballs still hurt, and my throat is more sore than yesterday. When I eat, it’s like swallowing gravel. That being said, I “may” be getting better. I’m not nauseated. I have more energy than I did yesterday. I took out the trash this evening.

The big news, however, is that I washed myself. That’s right, I took a shower. I even shaved. I don’t mind saying it wasn’t easy and took all the effort I could muster. It felt like a competitive sport. As a matter of fact, since I ran out of hot water mid-shave, I should probably get a medal in the Winter Olympics.

Marcus Coker scores the bronze in bathing!

It’s amazing to me how quickly a person’s standards can change. Like, taking a shower really does feel like a big accomplishment to me. A week ago I wouldn’t have thought anything about it, but a week ago I wasn’t flat on my back with a five-day flu either.

Now I’m worn out. Exhausted. The internet is slow, and my patience is gone. (Way gone.) I feel like crying. Or screaming. So many other things in my world aren’t working, and now this. Sometimes life is too much. I probably need a nap.

When I told my therapist I wouldn’t be in this week because I had the flu, she said, “Take good care.” I appreciate the adjective, good. It reminds me to be especially careful with myself, to adjust to my moment-to-moment needs. To me this means that it’s okay that one day taking a shower isn’t a major undertaking and the next day it is. There’s no point in trying to impose yesterday’s standard upon today because they’re two different days, two different standards. As I see it, taking good care means doing the best you can right here, right now. And in this moment, taking good care for me means wrapping this up, taking a nap, and being more than okay with that.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Why should anyone be embarrassed about the truth?"

Everything Stops (Blog #319)

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Shit, the flu.

Last night I took Mom and me to a walk-in clinic. We both have the flu. The doctor said I was probably “on the front end of it” and Mom was probably in the middle of it. Later Dad said he hoped that meant he was at the end of it, since he got it first. Anyway, we’re a fine crew around here. Mom and Dad are currently watching Days of Our Lives–hacking their way through every minute of it–and I’m laid up in bed.

Today is definitely worse than yesterday. I spent the night cold and hot, cold and hot, and now am starting to get congested. It hurts to stand up. It hurts to think. The doctor last night wrote me a prescription for Tamiflu, so I may pick that up shortly. Well, my aunt said she would. Either way, I have mixed feelings about it. I don’t always do well with pills and side effects. Then again, I clearly don’t do well with the flu either.

One upside to being sick is that I don’t have much of an appetite. In other words, I already feel skinnier! (Gay guys think about their waistlines constantly, Mom.) My therapist had the flu recently, and as she said, “I’m only two more viruses away from fitting into my favorite jeans.”

I’ve been thinking about how everything stops when you get sick like this. Yesterday I blogged but didn’t journal, something I’ve done every day for the last six months. Likewise, my chi kung session, which is normally thirty minutes, got cut to five minutes. Today I’d planned to do some marketing work, then get up early tomorrow to interview someone on the phone for a writing project. But all of that is coming to a halt for now. My body simply can’t. (Stop, stop, stop.) Instead, I’ll probably finish this blog and watch a movie, maybe try eating a piece of fruit, even though chewing feels like it should be an Olympic sport at the moment.

I’m not exactly sure how to wrap this up. My brain has stopped too.

Shit, the flu.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

"

My Damn Opinion (Blog #316)

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This afternoon I dragged myself out of the house and went to a local bookstore/coffee shop, to work. For about three hours I poured caffeine down my throat (my heart is still pounding) and worked on marketing strategy for the swing dance event I’m now associated with. This project could take up every spare minute of my time if I let it, so I’m trying to set limits–boundaries!–for myself. To this end, after making a dozen social media posts, writing a promotional piece about one of the staff, and outlining the details for an upcoming email campaign, I thought, That’s enough for today and shut my laptop.

Leaving my man bag in the room where I was working, I explored the rest of the shop. Y’all, I could spend days in almost any bookstore–perusing, smelling–even if I don’t buy anything. Anyway, after forty-five minutes of looking around, I returned empty-handed to grab my bag and head out–like a caveman–in search of dinner. (Me hungry. Where buffalo?) Well, I started talking to a stranger. More accurately, a stranger started talking to me. At first it was a pleasant back-and-forth, like, “Here’s what I enjoy reading. What do YOU enjoy reading?” But then things quickly became one-sided. They were talking my ear off.

Perhaps this has happened to you.

Hold it right there.

Praise God and all the saints, their phone rang. Now’s my chance, I thought. I said, “Have a wonderful evening,” and started walking. But wouldn’t you know it, they got off their phone quicker than a frog gets off its lily pad. The next thing I knew they’d called me back over–reeled me in like some sort of fish–by asking my name. (Damn vanity gets me every time.) Of course, they began chatting again. As it turned out, we actually had several things in common, and I thought, I like this person. Maybe God brought us together. Fifteen minutes later, the shop owner was locking doors and turning off lights, and the person was still talking. They later admitted that their blood sugar was dropping, that they were getting “loopy.” My internal response: “Drink your juice, Shelby!” (That’s a quote from Steel Magnolias, Mom.) I kept thinking, How would my therapist get out of this?

I intend to ask her.

Situations like these really do stump me. For all the progress I’ve made on good boundaries, I still have a tough time drawing a line in the sand with “conversation hijackers.” It’s really difficult for me to interrupt someone and say, “Hold it right there. You’re wearing me out.” I have so much practice being “nice.” If you have any suggestions for being both kind and firm with “ramblers,” please leave them in the comments below. (The suggestions, not the ramblers.) In tonight’s situation, I did find an opportunity to say, “I have to go,” to which the person replied, “I’m so sorry.” This was actually their second apology for taking up my time, which tells me that they realized as much as I did that the conversation had become one-sided and unbalanced. Apparently neither of us knew how to stop it.

God bless.

This evening I finished reading two books. The first, Hug Your Customer by Jack Mitchell, I can’t recommend enough, especially if you’re at all interested in customer service and business marketing. The second, The Art of Memoir by Mary Karr, I can’t recommend (period). I didn’t think it was bad–I found a lot of jewels inside–but it didn’t grip me the way I hoped it would. (Damn expectations.) Karr teaches writing, and mostly I felt as if I were in one of her university classes. She used dozens of dozens of examples from famous memoirs, all of which I’ve never read or heard of before and therefore didn’t connect with. Also, she spoke a lot of poetry, which would’ve been fine had the book been called The Art of Poetry instead of The Art of Memoir. These criticisms aside, I loved the parts of the book in which Karr spoke of her own life, her own experiences and memories. I’ve never read any of her other works, but I adore her authentic voice and think we’d hit it off were we to ever have brunch together.

Gay guys like brunch, Mom. (I don’t know if Mary Karr likes brunch or not. You’d have to ask her.)

Okay, one more beef about The Art of Memoir. At the back of the book, Karr lists some of her favorite memoirs, which, I guess, is both normal and to be expected. But Karr’s list of memoirs boggles the mind at–approximately–200 books. (200!) Maybe you don’t see this as a problem, but Karr labels the list, “Required Reading.” REQUIRED! As in, “You have to–or else.” Y’all, required is not the right adjective to use with a rule-follower. I looked at that list and thought, I’ve only read five of these books. Talk about stressful. Seriously, how I’ve managed to make it this far in life without having read the other 195, I don’t know.

Required reading. Please. Why not just say, “If you’re getting your PhD in memoir writing or have ten lifetimes to spare and nothing better to do, consider reading these 200 books”?

I hope this post doesn’t come off as overly bitchy. A little bitchy–fine. I’m sure that on more than one occasion I’ve been the person to talk someone else’s ear off. Hell, I write a blog every day (every damn day) about myself. By anyone’s standards, this is a pretty one-sided conversation. Additionally, I’m sure another writer could come in and take me to task on a number of things I do here. For starters, I use the words okay, anyway, whatever, and realize way too often. (I realize this. Whatever.) I have my reasons for doing what I do and imagine Karr has her reasons for doing what she does.

This is major progress.

All this to say that I’m not saying, “I’m right.” What I am saying, however, is, “I’m right–for me.” What I mean is that five years ago I would have let a complete stranger talk to me for hours on end and not have thought a thing about it. I wouldn’t have seen a problem. Likewise, I would have read a book cover-to-cover and assumed every word was gospel because it was printed on nice paper. But now I can recognize when things are out of balance (for me) and when information resonates (with me) and when it doesn’t. This is major progress. As I told my therapist recently, “I’m beginning to have a damn opinion about things.”

Her response: “As well you should. As. Well. You. Should.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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if you're content with yourself and you're always with yourself, then what's the problem?

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