On Internal Versus External Validation (Blog #996)

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Last night my throat started tickling, and today I woke up sick. Sinus troubles strike again. Talk about a bummer. I’ve felt like half a bag (but not a full bag) of ass all day. This being said, it’s still been a fun a productive Winter Solstice (the darkest day of the year). This morning I drove my aunt to Oklahoma so she could spend the holidays with her son and grandchildren. Then when I got home, despite my intention to blog and “get it over with” and in an effort to listen to my body, I took a nap. Then I went out to eat with my friends Aaron and Kate and Justin and Ashley (our waiter joined us for the above photo) to celebrate my upcoming 1,000th blog post in a row, which–God willing and the creek don’t rise–will happen on Christmas day.

And no, I didn’t plan that on March 31, 2017, when I made my first post. I’m good at math but not THAT good.

Once I read that any meditation you do consistently for 1,000 days will positively affect your subtle body, your subtle body consisting of your chakras. And whereas I don’t know if this is true (and if it is true it’d be difficult to prove because the changes would be subtle), I do know that almost 1,000 days of blogging has transformed me for the better. This is something I could go on and on about (and have), but suffice it to say that not only has my writing improved (which was the original goal), but so has my relationship with myself (and therefore with others).

Along these lines, one thing my therapist and I have discussed is seeking internal validation versus external validation. With internal validation, you say, “Even if nobody else gets it or cares, I know who I am.” You say, “I’m a damn fine dance teacher and an excellent writer. I’m hot. I’m good in the sack.” Or whatever. You say, “I like myself–warts and all.” Conversely, with external validation, you look to others and their responses to tell you who you are. Depending on whether they praise you, criticize you, laugh at your jokes, or laugh at you, your ego either soars or flops. A look from a total stranger makes you or breaks you. You want everyone else’s approval, and you’ll do anything to get it.

Everyone else’s puppet, one day you’re up, the next day you’re down.

This is one of the biggest positive changes I’ve experienced since starting therapy and this blog–the shift from external validation (from being a people pleaser) to internal validation (to being a me pleaser). Not that it’s all about me, me, me (although, granted, I do have a blog with me in the title), but it is about listening to my internal guidance and the voice of my soul over the opinions of others. This includes the opinions of my family, my friends, my acquaintances, total strangers, pretty boys, and–yes–even my therapist. Of course, I try to listen to what others have to say. Hell, I pay my therapist for her opinions. But ultimately I’m the one who decides what’s best for me because this is my life and I’m the one responsible for it.

Likewise, I’m the one responsible for my happiness. Others are welcome to disagree with my viewpoints and philosophies, tell me I’m a rotten dancer or human being, and tell me to fuck off, Jack. And sure, I might be upset by these things. But give me some time–enough time to write a blog post–and I’ll be fine. Because nobody–but nobody–gets to tell ME how to feel about ME.

Nobody–but nobody–gets to tell YOU how to feel about YOU.

One both subtle and not-so-subtle change that’s occurred over the last 996 days is that more and more external EVENTS aren’t able to tell me how I feel about myself either. What I mean is that I used to feel a lot of pride and self-worth if I looked good, felt good, and had money. On the flip side, I’d feel a lot of shame and embarrassment if I looked not-so-good, felt like a bag of ass, and didn’t have money. When I was sick I’d feel less than, inferior to healthy people, to doctors. When I couldn’t pay for things, to people who could. And not that I don’t have these thoughts anymore, but having made a consistent effort to connect with my own good heart on a regular basis, I now have these thoughts in their proper perspective.

You know how you can hold your hands close to a lightbulb and create a large shadow on the wall? And you know how you can move your hands away from the lightbulb and the shadow will get smaller? This is what I mean by proper perspective. It’s not that the opinions of others, your own health and wellbeing, and your finances don’t make a difference. They do. No one is immune to criticism, it sucks, sucks, sucks to be sick, and groceries don’t buy themselves. Our challenges create shadows on the wall.

How big, however, is up to us.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Love  is all around us.

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How to Navigate Relationships (Blog #995)

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This morning I woke up early to rifle through used books at a thrift store. And whereas I was super tired, I scored nineteen beautifully covered books (I’m using their covers for craft projects) for only a dollar a piece. Talk about a bargain. When I got home I set two books aside I decided to keep (one for me, one for a friend), then removed the covers from the other seventeen with a razor blade. Wouldn’t you know it? After all the work was done and I set the blade down, my left hand slipped off one of the books onto the blade and I cut my middle finger. Y’all, I started bleeding like a stuck pig. The worst part about it? I did the same thing yesterday to my ring finger.

“Did I never teach you how to use sharp objects?” my dad said.

“No,” I replied, holding up my Bandaid-covered hand. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Yesterday I bought three pieces of costume jewelry for two dollars. When I got them home, however, I noticed they were all missing jewels. Tossing them away I thought, Fool me once. This afternoon I used glitter spray paint on a picture frame but didn’t let it dry long enough. Now there’s an indentation where my hand was. Next time, sweetheart, be patient, I told myself. Don’t jump the gun. My point being in all these situations–no matter how old you get, there’s always more to learn. Especially with any new endeavor or undertaking (and I may NEED an undertakER if I keep slicing myself open), there’s always room for improvement.

Knowing that we don’t–can’t–know everything should keep us humble.

One of the books I dismantled for its cover was Extraordinary Lives by American Express. That’s right, the credit card company. Anyway, best I could tell by thumbing through it, the book was a collection of inspirational stories paired with original artwork and well-laid-out quotes from the book’s various storytellers. And whereas I didn’t read any of the stories, I did cut out several of the quotes I thought were worth taking in. Things like, “You didn’t have arguments and problems and lawsuits with patients. You had relationships.” And, “You can’t have everything you want. You’re not going to get the other side to commit suicide.”

For me, the two quotes I just mentioned are tied together. That is, only if a relationship goes sour will you have (major, lawsuit-like) problems, and only if those problems get way out of hand will you want the other side to cease existing. Tonight I attended a Christmas party, and one my friends pointed out that relationships most always go sour when we ignore red flags. I’m sure we’ve all had the experience of looking back and thinking, I knew Phil was a cheater all along. I knew Sally was a kleptomaniac. Fine China doesn’t just up and walk away on its own.

“Why do we ignore red flags,” my friend said? “Because we have an agenda with someone. Because we want something from them.”

Ugh. Is this the truth or what? I’ve ignored my intuition with overbearing friends because I wanted to be perceived as “nice.” I’ve ignored it with inappropriate clients because I wanted their money. I’ve ignored it with love interests because I didn’t want to be alone. But more and more I’d rather be “rude” (or rather perceived as rude), broke, and alone than spend time with someone who isn’t a good match for me. And let’s face it–if they’re not a match for me, I’m not a match for them, so I’m doing both of us a favor. Along these lines, my therapist says that when you’re honest with someone–like, this just isn’t working for me–you not only give them permission to be honest, but you also free up both of your time and attention for others who ARE a match for you.

At one point today I had someone preface something they were about to tell me by saying, “I know you won’t tell anybody.” And whereas I haven’t always zipped my lips when someone asked me to in the past, I’m getting better at it. Like, I’m NOT talking about it on the internet. Or at all. I mean, if someone confides in me, that means they TRUST me, and that’s huge. Because trust takes years to build up.

But only a moment to shatter.

To the party tonight I wore a bow tie that was recently gifted to my by my friend Lydia (who won it as a door prize at a dance we attended together) and a brass brooch in the shape of two flowers–mums. As in, MUM’S THE WORD. I didn’t plan this coincidence (being asked to keep a confidence / mum’s the word) when I picked out my outfit and accessories, it just happened. In psycho-spiritual speak, it was a synchronicity, an divinely orchestrated opportunity for me to really think about the quality of my relationships, what they’re built on (trust), and how I can work to maintain them (as Elaine on Seinfeld would say, lock box).

My therapist says “mum’s the word” is almost always a good idea in relationships–and not just with respect to keeping secrets. For example, my friends and I used to process a lot together, use each other as therapists. There’s nothing inherently wrong with doing this, but things can get pretty heavy pretty quick. This is why my therapist suggests zipping my lips or not processing so much with others. “Friends are for fun,” she says. “If it’s something deep and heavy, something you’d put on the THE LIST, talk to me about it. Aren’t you paying me to listen?” These are things I continue to work on–what to talk about, what not to talk about, how to navigate relationships. And whereas I don’t always get it right–with friends or with razor blades–I’m learning.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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The Door Is Shut Now (Blog #992)

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This afternoon I saw The Brainstem Wizard, my upper cervical care doctor who’s helping me “get my head on straight.” The idea being that when your atlas vertebrae, which supports your head, sits right, good health is most likely to follow. Conversely, when it doesn’t sit right, it can put pressure on your brainstem and cause all sorts of problems (because your brainstem and nervous system directly affect or influence almost everything in your body). All this to say that today my doctor determined (through the use of a handy dandy device that looks like Batman’s ray gun) that my nervous system was working fine on its own and, therefore, I didn’t need an adjustment this week.

Honestly, this was a little disappointing because I’ve had such good results with the last few adjustments. Plus, the last few days my head has hurt, my back has ached. But my doctor said, “That’s normal. Healing isn’t a straight line. It’s more like a wiggly line, full of ups and downs. Be patient. People normally hit the sweet spot around the two to four month mark. People think the adjustment is what heals them, but that’s not it–it’s your body. Give it time.”

“So just tough out the pain until my body decides to fix the problem?” I said.

“Yep,” he smiled. “That’s what you’ve been doing all this time anyway, right?”

I laughed. “Right.”

“Don’t be discouraged,” he said. “We’re fighting a long history of problems.”

Boy, did he say a mouthful or what? So often along the path of healing, in all its many forms, I’ve wanted instant results. Then, upon not getting them, I’ve gotten depressed, convinced that the universe in all its wonder doesn’t have an answer to my problem. Or worse, it doesn’t care. But the truth is the universe does care (a lot) and does have an answer. However, sometimes the answer we’re looking for doesn’t come fast precisely because of our long history of problems and, in many cases, because of our self-neglect. Think of it this way. The longer you go without cleaning your house, the longer it’s going to take to clean it. The more baggage you have, the longer it’s going to take to move somewhere.

This truth applies to your house, your body, your mind and emotions, and your relationships. At times I get frustrated with people in my life (who doesn’t?), but usually by the time my lid’s about to pop over something “big,” it’s only because I’ve let so many small things go without addressing them. Without addressing the relationship. Whenever this occurs, I remind myself to slow down, to breathe. I remind myself we’re ALL fighting a long history of problems. The last two days I’ve mentioned a YouTube commenter who read me the riot act for counting Rumba incorrectly (according to them), and this idea applies to people like him too. Like, I want him to straighten up and fly right, but–let’s get real–that’s probably not going to happen because he’s had an entire lifetime to become who he is.

Not that people can’t change. They can. But it takes time. And they don’t do it just because I (or you) want them to.

My therapist would add, “They have to really desire it. And they have to work their ass off.”

Which reminds me of a joke my aunt told me once. How many therapists does it take to change a lightbulb?

Only one, but the lightbulb has to really WANT to change.

I keep going back to this YouTube commenter not because it’s really a big deal to me, but because it represents things that are big deals. You know how we all have things we can’t get over. Like, I live with my parents, and they do things that drive me absolutely crazy. Things I can’t stand. Things I’ll probably miss when they’re gone (but not a minute sooner). And yes, I’m sure I do things that make them go bananas too. And then we all have THE BIG THINGS. The real dramas and traumas in our lives that really are difficult to let go of–a long history of problems–but that really NEED to be let go of. Because you can’t live your life collecting problems and baggage and expect to be happy.

What can you expect, Marcus?

Misery.

So I’ll say it again and again. It’s worth your time to clean things up.

In yesterday’s selfie I apparently left my bedroom door slightly open. Well, the damndest thing, earlier when I looked at the photo (I always look at yesterday’s post before I start today’s so I know what number I’m on), I thought, Crap, my door’s open, and immediately started out of my chair to close it. Even now when I look at the photo above (I’ve included it again for your convenience), I glance up at my actual door and am amazed that it’s shut. I think, Phew, it’s closed. But then I look at the picture again and think, Wait, it’s open. This is the power of an image, whether it’s a actual photo or a memory in your head. It’s seems real but it’s not.

What is real then?

Whatever’s right here, right now. For me, it’s a chair, a laptop, and a closed door. For you, maybe it’s an open door.

The problem with images, including memories, appearing real is that we get hung up on them. We tell our friends, “Some guy on YouTube said this shitty thing to me. My parents did this. My lover did that. The door is open.” A wise person will point out that everything is in the past and there’s no use wasting your present, vital life force keeping your past–your long history of problems–alive by holding on and looking backwards instead of forwards. “Look,” they’ll say, “the door is shut.”

“But it WAS open,” you’ll insist. “And this guy really did say something shitty. And these terrible things really did happen.”

“I know, sweetheart,” they’ll reply, “and the door is shut now.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We don’t get to boss life around.

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When a Pickpocket Meets a Saint (Blog #991)

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There’s an idea in self-help and spirituality that we repeat things over and over again until we get the point of them, until we learn the lesson. You know how some people, maybe you, always end up falling for the same kind of lovers. Emotionally unavailable assholes, let’s say. Or maybe you’re constantly being shit on at work–and it’s been like that for twenty years. One way of describing this situation is “same drama, different actors,” and I think it’s worth taking a look at. Because if you can’t step out of the hamster wheel of your life and analyze it archetypally (non-personally), chances are you’ll keep getting more of the same.

My chiropractor who works with emotions and the body and I talk about this a lot. I saw him today, and we worked through a recent situation in which my reaction was, “Fine, damn it, I’ll do it,” even though someone else really should have. Like, it was their responsibility. Well, this feeling of taking on more than I really should goes back a long way. When I was a child my mom was sick quite a bit. When I was a teenager my dad was in prison. Long story short, I had to grow up fast. Looking back, I can see I wasn’t very happy about it and didn’t know how to express my frustration. But with respect to the same-drama conversation, what’s important to note is that although all the stories I’ve mentioned tonight were different on the outside, they were the same for me on the inside.

Recently I’ve been taking the covers off old books in order to use them for art projects, and yesterday I noticed a line on the first page of a book (I can’t remember which one) that said, “‘Every morning,’ he said, ‘every morning it’s the same damn thing!'” This is what I’m talking about emotionally, repeating the same feelings, the same roles (the runt, the slave, the misunderstood one) day after day after day. This is where my therapist and my emotionally intelligent chiropractor have been invaluable. They’ve helped me spot UNPRODUCTIVE PATTERNS so that I can do something about them. Because that’s the deal–it’s really hard to see your own routine. Sometimes you’re just too close to your own life to get what’s really going on. But someone else can take one look and say, “Girl, you’re stuck in a hamster wheel.”

Having had the help of wise counselors for years now, it’s getting easier and easier for me to spot my own unproductive patterns. For example, I’ve learned that I’m chronically attracted to a certain type that’s fundamentally not good for me. So whenever I feel myself going down the rabbit hole again, I stop and say, “Hold it right there, Mister. Stop in the name of love. We know how this is going to end, and it’s not good.” Then I do something else (or someone else). Another thing I’ve found helpful is to note whenever I catch myself saying, “Well, if it were anybody else, I’d tell them to do this (dump him, run the other way, go to a doctor).” Then I drop all my excuses and take my own advice. Because that’s my inner wisdom talking, and it shouldn’t matter if it’s someone else, or me, or the President. A problem is a problem is a problem, and good advice is good advice is good advice.

This evening I went thrift shopping and bought a few hardback books for their covers. Well, the total was $5.56, but I only had $5.25 in my pocket. “I’ll be right back,” I told the girl behind the counter. “I just need to get my change from the car.” Well, I came back with 26 cents, which, as the girl quickly pointed out, was 5 cents short.

So back to my car I went.

For a moment I thought, She must think I’m really dumb. Then I thought about how I won all sorts of math awards in junior high and high school, and how maybe I should tell her about them. Like, I really do know how to add. I won the Math-A-Thon! I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately. Then I thought, You don’t have to explain yourself to a high school student who works at Goodwill, Marcus.

So I gave her the damn nickel, picked up my books, and left.

There’s a saying I think about a lot but have never shared on this blog. It goes, “When a pickpocket meets a saint, he sees only his pockets.” To me this means that we don’t perceive others and the world as THEY are, but as WE are. Like, I could be the nicest guy and a really good mathematician, and if some tween at Goodwill thinks I’m stupid, she thinks I’m stupid. Now, does she? We’d have to ask her. Chances are, unlike me, she’s forgotten the whole interaction. Or maybe she hasn’t. Maybe she’s fallen in love with me and is currently at home stalking my Facebook and being disappointed by the fact that I don’t date girls. My point being that–either way–her reactions have little to do with me and everything to do with her. Yesterday I mentioned that someone bitched me out on YouTube for (in their opinion) counting Rumba incorrectly, and–same thing. This unfortunate commenter didn’t see ME, he only saw some ignorant dance teacher from Arkansas. A figment of his imagination.

And yes, it hasn’t escaped me that my not being able to count has apparently become a theme. Same drama, different players.

You’re never as stuck as you think you are.

For me another takeaway of the pickpocket/saint saying is to TRY to see people neutrally. Tonight I looked at the girl at Goodwill and thought, I know nothing about who this person is or what her life is like, and I certainly don’t know what she’s thinking. So often we assume we know what’s going on in someone else’s life or head and end up separating from rather than connecting with them. But seeing someone neutrally opens a door for grace to walk through. Likewise, seeing yourself neutrally (archetypally, impersonally) opens a door for grace to walk through. Because when you unplug from your own drama, your own story about your life, you have the thought that perhaps things could be different. And they could. You’re never as stuck as you think you are. In life, there’s always space to rewrite your script.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Some days, most days, are a mixed bag. We cry, we laugh, we quit, we start again. That's life. In the process, we find out we're stronger than we thought we were, and perhaps this is healing.

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On How to Frame Your Past (Blog #987)

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This afternoon I went antique shopping for several hours. And whereas I didn’t buy much, just one thing, I did have fun looking. As I said yesterday, the world is full of pretty objects. Okay, okay, enough suspense. I’ll tell you what I bought. My solitary purchase was a small golden frame for the bargain price of a dollar.

“One dollar even,” the lady said.

Y’all, even as I was walking the frame to the car, I had little idea what I was going to do with it. I thought, Maybe I can add it to my magnet board, use it to accentuate part of my collection. Then as the day went on I thought, Or I could use it as God intended and put a photo in it. Well, when I got the frame home I realized it didn’t have glass in it. So then I thought I could either buy a piece of glass for it or just use it as-is to frame a three-dimensional object. Either way, I thought, before I do anything else I’ve got to get this warped cardboard off the back and take an iron too it. So that’s what I did. And whereas I thought, I’m tearing this thing apart, I also thought, It’s only a dollar.

While ironing the cardboard backing, I thought that I COULD paint the golden frame purple. Then I set that thought aside to search through my closets in hopes of finding a picture, toy, or statue to fit inside the frame. Y’all, I tried everything–a plastic dinosaur, pictures I’ve torn out of magazines, a small statue of Jesus. Alas, nothing worked and I quickly ran out of options. This is the one of the downsides to not owning much; it limits your creative options. Every hoarder thinks, I may need that one day, and every minimalist sooner or later thinks, Crap, I could have used that. But if you don’t have it, you don’t have it.

At which point you’re forced to be more creative.

Eventually I started toying around with the frame and a brooch I bought yesterday–a golden leaf. First I put the brooch inside the frame on the warped (and worn) cardboard, then I replaced the cardboard with a book whose cover (which is a delightful shade of blue) I absolutely love.

Now we’re getting somewhere, I thought.

Because I didn’t and don’t want to butcher my book for this project, I started going through the books my family has set aside for an upcoming yard sale. And whereas I couldn’t find any of them that were as pretty in terms of color or texture as my blue book, I did find some interesting options. For example, the text on the front of a black John le Carre book just happened to be written in gold, so all the elements–the text, the brooch, the frame–tied together nicely.

Completely different than the blue-book option.

Lastly I tried ANOTHER blue book (I have a lot of blue books), a darker, non-canvas one. And whereas I didn’t and don’t like it as much, I’m including it here to 1) illustrate the creative process, 2) demonstrate that all blues are not created equal, 3) present an option with the leaf turned at a different angle, and 4) show that details make a difference.

Ultimately, I don’t know what I’m going to do with my one-dollar frame. Chances are I’ll hit up a used book store to continue to explore cheap backdrop options. Then I’ll play around with temporary versus permanent ways to mount my brooch or, if I decide I’d rather wear it, mount something else inside the frame instead. Then I’ll figure out how to hang the whole thing on the wall. Or on the ceiling. Hell, I may put it in the bathroom above the toilet paper holder. Wouldn’t that be something?

My point: this could go down a number of ways.

Often I talk about the importance of perspective, and what I mean is that to a large extent the joy or suffering you experience is based on how you see things. For example, I’ve had a lot of shitty things happen over the years (who hasn’t?), and they used to cause me a lot of pain–because I was embarrassed by them, because I was afraid I couldn’t handle myself, because I thought life wasn’t fair. In short, I SAW myself as a victim, a pawn in the game of life, someone without any power. And whereas all these perspectives are true on one level, on another they simply aren’t. That is, the more I’ve explored my depths and connected with my soul, I’ve come to see that every challenge and shitty circumstance has been absolutely necessary. They’ve made me stronger. They’ve pushed me to learn. They’ve taught me endurance, patience, and compassion.

Simply put, I used to think all those horrible things had taken my life from me. Now I see they actually gave it to me.

For me self-help books and spiritual teachers have been immensely valuable in providing perspective. They’ve taught me I’m not alone in my experiences or thoughts or emotions about them. Likewise, my therapist has also been immensely valuable. Whenever I’m hard on myself or another, she offers a more compassionate viewpoint. Sometimes we work a topic over and over again until it feels right, until there’s peace. This is the deal with your life, your past. You think it’s set in stone, and maybe the facts are. (Whatever shitty things happened to you, I’m sorry. All the therapy, drugs, and gurus in the world can’t change it. I wish they could.) But like my dollar-frame project tonight, your perspective about your past and what it means is WAY flexible. That is, you can set it against a dark background (my life has been torn apart), or a light one (my life is coming together).

This is my advice: take the facts of your life and turn them upside down, twist them this way and that until they look right, until you have them just so. Frame your past in the best way possible. Don’t lie to yourself about what happened. Instead, get brutally honest. Cry and scream. Then move on. Forgive. Tell yourself, Whatever happened was absolutely necessary. Yes, it was difficult, but it made me the glorious being I am today. In fact, I couldn’t have planned things better myself.

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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On All the Pretty Things (Blog #986)

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Today I’ve been thinking about power. Specifically I’ve been thinking about the fact that no physical object has any power whatsoever except for the power we give it. For example, recently I attended a show and noticed two (I’m assuming) homosexuals who were wearing rhinestone brooches, one on his sweater, the other on his jacket. Well, as someone who loves a good button, I thought this was absolutely fabulous. Really taking things to the next level. Seriously, having spent my entire life only seeing females wear brooches, I was mesmerized, not only by these men’s courage, but also by their creativity. I thought, You go. Fuck gender rules.

Getting back to the idea of power, I’d like to be clear–these men and their brooches were only enchanting to me because either on a conscious or unconscious level I decided they were special, unique, and attractive. That is, anyone else–maybe you–wouldn’t have even noticed. Or if you did you might have thought, That’s stupid, That’s gay, or I would never. All the while we would have been staring at the same shiny pieces of jewelry, which, by the way, can’t DO anything other than sit there and sparkle. This is what I mean by objects having no inherent power or value. Even if a hundred people or the entire world agreed–THESE are beautiful brooches–they’re just material objects.

This morning I saw my therapist and casually mentioned “the brooch-wearing homos” (my therapist and I aren’t politically correct with each other), and she said, “I used to have a male client who wore a different brooch with every outfit, and it was stunning.” Encouraged, and despite the above-stated facts about things just being things, after therapy I went brooch shopping. (Things I’d never thought I’d say.) Well, I ended up at an antique store with hundreds and hundreds of vintage and newly handcrafted brooches. And whereas I’ll spare you my feelings of overwhelm (how you women–and drag queens–afford all your accessories, I’ll never know), I will say that I ended up buying three brooches, one of which (a fleur-de-lis) I proudly wore for the rest of the day.

Again, although I went “right to” this particular pin, there have obviously been dozens if not hundreds of shoppers who thought nothing of it. I’m sure others picked it up and thought, I wouldn’t pay $14 for that! And yet I thought it was perfect–a steal–because it matches the fleur-de-lis on my favorite vintage sweater and includes my favorite color, blue. But is it INNATELY beautiful and stunning?

Only because I think it is.

Only because I’ve given it power.

Having sold most of my worldly possessions at an estate sale, I’m highly aware that simply because I value something doesn’t mean anyone else does. Oh my god, I had antique chairs I paid over a hundred dollars for that sold for twenty. Fuck it, I eventually thought. It’s only stuff. It’s only money.

What I learned from my estate sale is that, although I occasionally miss some of what I sold, I didn’t and don’t NEED any of it. I look around my room now at what’s left and what I’ve acquired since, and I don’t need any of it either. Sure, it’s nice to have a comfortable bed, warm clothes, and plenty of books to read. I love my framed artwork, my magnet collection, and my three brooches. I think they’re pretty, fun. But do I require these object to be happy, to live a full life?

Let me be clear–I do not.

Now, don’t go getting the idea that I’m a monk who’s taken a vow of poverty. Picture that! A brooch-wearing monk. No, I clearly enjoy pretty things and shiny objects. Several weeks ago I lost one of my favorite rings, and tonight while I was rearranging my jewelry tray to accommodate my brooches spent over half an hour trying to remember where I lost it (to no avail). So even though I’m clear that my ring (which obviously isn’t mine anymore, if it ever was) only has meaning because I think it does, I still find it hard to let go. This is the thing with letting go. Sometimes you have to do it over and over again. As Madonna so rightly stated, we are living in a material world.

It’s easy to get attached.

This evening I returned an item of clothing that was too small to TJ Maxx and some lightbulbs that were too bright to Walmart. Oh my gosh, y’all, you should have seen these places. They were jam-packed with Christmas shoppers. And whereas–sure–I got caught up in both places looking at “all the pretty things,” I also realized the ridiculousness of it all. What I mean is that most of us THINK we need more stuff when we have SO MUCH already. We rush around, we push people over, and we buy, buy, buy. But standing there in the midst of it all, I thought, The stuff’s not making us buy it, we’re doing that. We’re breaking our backs to have things that will end up at consignment shops when we die. (Your mother’s antique brooch will end up on a forty-year-old gay man.) Then I took a deep breath and reminded myself that even though I was surrounded by a warehouse full of shiny objects, I didn’t NEED any of it–to feel love in my heart, to be kind to another, to feel good about myself.

Said succinctly, things can’t make you feel good about you. Only you have that power.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

Whereas I've always pictured patience as a sweet, smiling, long-haired lady in a white dress, I'm coming to see her as a frumpy, worn-out old broad with three chins. You know--sturdy--someone who's been through the ringer and lived to tell about it.

"

On How You Move Mountains (Blog #985)

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Last night my dad and I went to the gym. I started off doing my own thing in a back corner away from Dad but eventually ended up beside him, me on an elliptical and him on a recumbent stepper. And whereas I was really going to town, breathing hard and everything, he was like, moving at a snail’s pace. So when we both wrapped up, I said, “You’ve been on that machine for FIFTY minutes, and I’ve only been on mine for FIFTEEN. And yet you’re COMPLETELY dry and I’m DRENCHED in sweat.”

“That’s because I’m in so much better shape than you are,” he said.

Everyone’s a comedian.

This afternoon I saw The Brainstem Wizard, the upper cervical specialist who’s currently changing my life. Well, to be clear, my nervous system is changing my life. My doc is just helping my nervous system out by getting my “head on straight.” For years I’ve complained about headaches, shoulder pain, back pain, and posture problems. In only two weeks, all these things are dramatically better. This last week I didn’t have a single headache. My shoulders are less rounded. Today I told my doctor that after each treatment I experience different sensations in my body. The first time I cried. Today I felt blood rushing to my head. “That’s how it goes,” he said. “It’s whatever the body wants to work on.”

What I appreciate about this form of treatment is that it views the body as innately intelligent. For at least a decade I’ve tried multiple ways to get the tight muscles in my shoulders and hips to loosen up with minimal results. Now I know those muscles were tight for a reason; my head was too far forward, and my body was trying to stay in balance. Well, now that my head is in a better position, those muscles that have been tight for years are beginning to loosen up. Just like that. Finally. Mountains are moving.

I wish I could say that this were a one-and-done miracle, but it’s more like a twenty-nine-and-done miracle, since twenty-nine visits over a year is what my doc suggested and what I agreed to. Considering my list of health problems has been growing the last few years and that my doc says his job is to take items OFF that list, the time and money I’m having to put into this are well worth it.

It’s always worth it to invest in your health.

With my 1,000th blog quickly approaching, I’ve been thinking about how I’ve changed for the better thanks to both nearly three years of blogging and nearly six years of therapy. Mostly I’ve been thinking about how although I’ve had a number of especially healing nights at this computer and especially healing days in therapy, I can’t put my finger on exactly WHEN I changed. You know how you look at yourself in the mirror every day. Sure, you notice a gray hair there, a little extra fat there. But until you whip out last year’s photo or try to squeeze into last season’s jeans, it doesn’t click that something’s different than it used to be. You think, When did it happen?

When did it not?

By this last question I mean that we’re always in the process of change. When it comes to going to the gym, seeing a therapist, or writing a daily blog, it’s not the individual visits or posts that change us, it’s the process itself. This afternoon I realized that I’ve recently checked out half a dozen books from an online library. Well, not only do I not have the time to read them, I also don’t have the desire. And yet my inner completionist says I should. My inner good student says there’s something to learn. But the truth is that no one fact or book is going to change me. It’s what I do with that fact or book, how I choose to integrate it into my life that makes the difference.

Along these lines, I have a personal beef with self-help posts with titles like “Twelve Thing I learned in Therapy.” Not because I don’t love a good list (I love a good list), but because I’ve read others’ lists and books until I’m blue in the face and know that lists don’t change you. Memes don’t change you either. Because they’re just words. This blog is just words. Even if they’re true words, they have no power. You, however, have plenty of power. You have the ability to take an idea and animate it. You can read “exercise” or “be kind” or “be honest,” and you can breathe your life into these ideas. Better said, you can BECOME these ideas. This is how you change yourself, this is how you change the world, and this is how you move mountains. Not with one part of you, but with the entirety of your being.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

Free from Our Baggage and Bullshit (Blog #982)

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It’s 3:15 in the afternoon, and, like yesterday, I’m blogging earlier than usual because I have plans this evening (last night I went to a show, and tonight I’m going to a dance) and don’t want to be up until all hours writing. Not that I ended up going to bed at a respectable hour last night. Home by 11:00, I was wide awake until 4:00 in the morning. MAAAAYBE I had a smidge too much coffee at dinner. Or it could be that I’ve simply felt better lately and have had–at times–A LOT of energy. My mind starts thinking about things I could do, future projects, and then it’s off to the races. Recently I saw my therapist while I was flying high, and she said, “You’re as happy as I’ve ever seen you.”

I told my therapist that over the last two weeks I’ve felt like a cork that’s been previously held underwater and finally released. Like, WHOOSH! to the surface. She said, “That’s what happens when you’re not suffering.”

Last night my friend Marla and I went to see the comedian Randy Rainbow, and, like I’m wont to do at shows, I bought a magnet as a souvenir. Well, when I got home it was quite the chore to fit the magnet on my magnet board. Alas, after over twenty years of collecting show magnets, my board has gotten quite full. Well, thank god, I finally found a spot. BUT THEN–out of the blue–I remembered a show I saw seven years ago that I never bought a magnet for and impulsively bought it (on sale) online. But where the hell will it go? I thought.

This afternoon I remembered that well over ten years ago when I was still living at home I installed a magnet board covered in vintage movie-star-themed wallpaper on the back of a desk that we still own but whose back is to the wall. Of course, I got excited thinking that I could take the board off the desk and–somehow–mount it in my room. (I realize “mount it” sounds dirty, but I don’t mean it that way. Hell, maybe it doesn’t sound dirty. I’m single. I don’t know these things.) Anyway, down the rabbit hole of possibilities I went considering how I could frame the board and hang it and–because you can’t change one thing without changing everything–how I could rearrange everything else else in my room to accommodate it.

This, as I’ve said before, is why any type of internal or external change is stressful for us. Because deep down we know that changes are like dominos. You set one in motion and then it’s off to the races. You think, I’ll just rearrange this corner, or–I don’t know–go to therapy. The next thing you know, your world’s upside down. At which point you wonder if you’ve done the right thing. But trust me, you have. So just keep going and don’t you dare look back.

Lot’s wife turned to a pillar of salt.

While thinking about my magnet board project I started to get overwhelmed. My Inner Perfectionist told me it had to be “just so,” that there was a right way and a wrong way to do it and that it was MY JOB to figure it out. “Don’t fuck this up,” it said. Thankfully, I ended up telling that guy to give it a damn rest. Because there’s no such thing as perfect, and there’s certainly no way to do this project–or this thing called life–wrong. Granted, there are consequences (results) to our choices, but they’re not as grave as we might imagine. Life is meant to be fun, not so serious.

Along these lines, I ended up putting my project aside to blog for today. Maybe I’ll focus on it next week, maybe I won’t. The world doesn’t turn on my decision. Sure, there will be a domino effect, but–either way–I’ve determined it’s not a big deal.

Last night after the show Marla and I went through a drive-thru to get an ice cream, and–I guess because I have long, fabulous hair–the guy at the window said, “Good evening, ma’am.” Well, I just sat there, letting him figure out that I’m a dude (although I certainly grant it’s getting harder and harder to tell these days). Anyway, he took our order and later when he handed us our frosty treats said, “Good night, sir.” Some people would have been offended about the mix up. But as soon I rolled up my window, Marla and I burst out laughing. This is the power that we have. It’s not life or god who decides if something is a big deal or not–it’s us.

Our perspective determines our experience of reality.

While looking over my magnet collection last night, I remembered with whom I attended each show. And whereas I no longer talk to several of the people who occupy my show memories, I’m proud to say that my memories with them are still fond ones. Thinking of them or the time we spent together doesn’t trigger any resentments. This is good. Not that I want to call them up and go for coffee, but I also don’t want to suffer when I think about them. (The past is over unless we keep it alive.) This afternoon my mom found a picture of me and my sister that neither I or my sister remember seeing before. In it we’re both smiling and laughing big as day. My sister said, “We look so happy.” That’s the deal. Happiness is our natural state. Children know this. We were made to float, not sink through life. And we can. Free from our baggage and bullshit, we WHOOSH! to the surface.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Obviously, God's capable of a lot. Just look around."

On Connection and Gratitude (Blog #981)

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It’s 1:21 in the afternoon, and I’m blogging earlier than usual because I’m going out of town tonight to see a show and can only blog while exhausted so many nights in a row. I’m just saying, it takes its toll. This isn’t a complaint. I’m grateful that my life is such right now that I can stay up late to write, sleep in the next day, and basically be master of my own universe (schedule). My therapist says, “You’re a free man. You don’t have any dependents and have few people or things to be accountable to. Enjoy the hell out of it.”

As the Ella Fitzgerald song says, deed I do.

Since starting this blog over two years ago, a number of people have suggested–well–a number of things I could do differently with my life. You know how people love to give unsolicited advice. Specifically, they’ve said, “Why don’t you blog earlier in the day every day!” And whereas I adore getting the blog out of the way on days like today so I can flit and frolic about the town and not have to worry about writing, experience has taught me that I don’t do anything every day in the same way. Some days I blog early; some days I blog late. I’m okay with this. The sun and moon don’t rise and set at the same times every day and night. Variety is the spice of life. It’s never just one way and not the other.

Balance is required for living.

Having only been awake for an hour and a half, I haven’t been thinking about MUCH today, but I HAVE been thinking about gratitude and connection. (I’ll explain.) Last night I went to dinner with a friend who paid for our meal with a gift card from their father. “Tonight’s on him,” they said. “Because of his hard work and generosity, we get to sit, catch up, laugh, and enjoy each other’s company.” Isn’t this the perfect perspective? Even if you go out to dinner on your own dollar, at SOME POINT “your” money belonged to someone else who quite possible had to sweat, toil, and break their back in order to have it and be able to give it to you (so you could give it to someone else). Two days ago I bought a smoothie, but only because someone first bought a dance lesson from me and, before that, someone bought something from them. I could go on, but the fact is evident–we rest on each others shoulders.

We support one another.

As far as I can tell, we’re connected and interdependent whether we like it or not. We rely on friends and strangers to deliver our mail, make our clothes, service our appliances, produce our music. Somebody in China made the cup I’m currently drinking tea out of, and somebody else–somewhere–made the underwear (and shorts) I’m sitting in. Even if I pay for the things in my life, I can’t pick up a fork or a roll of toilet paper without in someway connecting to someone else. This is true even if I don’t care for the person who made or gave me the thing. Indeed, this laptop, on which I’ve written this blog that’s changed my life for the better, was a birthday present from my ex, who was such a shit and I wouldn’t have coffee with if you paid me to (although you never know what you’re going to do until you do it). And yet he gifted me a number of things that have been absolutely essential for my journey. So more and more I realize that you don’t have to like someone, something, or a situation in order to be grateful for it.

You can feel gratitude up close or from a distance.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

Life doesn’t need us to boss it around.

"

Trust That Answers Are Coming (Blog #980)

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Today I finished reading three books–Esoterism & Symbol by R. A. Schwaller de Lubicz, The Hanged Man: Psychotherapy and the Forces of Darkness by Sheldon Kopp, and The Power of Your Other Hand: A Course in Channeling the Inner Wisdom of the Right Brain by Lucia Capacchione. And whereas I only this week started the first two books, I started the third one over a year ago. Alas, it’s sat on my shelf collecting dust since last summer, just waiting for me to notice it. Well, today was the day. I can’t tell you how good it felt to finally be done. And yes, I know that I didn’t HAVE to finish it. But I genuinely wanted to, was actually interested in what it had to say.

I’ve talked about divine timing before, and I continue to be amazed by it. While reading the book I just mentioned, I noticed several things made sense to me that wouldn’t have made sense to me a year ago. Better said, several things STOOD OUT to me that wouldn’t have before. But they did stand out because of other books I’ve read over the past year. I kept thinking, Oh, there was a reason I didn’t pick you back up until today. I wasn’t ready for you yet.

This evening I had dinner with a friend (we’d planned on going out this weekend but at the last minute decided to go tonight) and told them of my recent and positive results with upper cervical care. When they asked HOW I found out about this healthcare modality, I credited a dancer friend (whom I honestly don’t talk to very often) who mentioned online their positive results with upper cervical care (that they received over ten years ago). And whereas I can’t say what’s going to happen or not happen over the next few months in terms of my healing, I can say that based on how much I’ve improved in the last two weeks (I truly feel like my innate healing powers have been given back to me), this whole setup is what I’ve been praying and waiting for.

By setup I mean–I don’t think any of this has been accidental.

Getting back to the idea of divine timing, I’m astounded by what all had to happen or not happen in order for me to find out about this form of treatment. Fifteen years ago my friend and I had to meet. Ten years ago my friend had to be sick and–God knows how–find her doctor. Earlier this year my friend and I had to reconnect. And then there’s what had to happen to get my doctor close enough that I could drive to him, since he used to be located much farther away, like the only other two people in the state who do what he does. Anyway, I could go on but won’t. I just keep thinking that answers are being lined up for us LONG before we even ask our questions. I just keep thinking that it doesn’t make much sense for me to try to tell the universe how to do its obviously complex job.

Because it’s doing just fine.

When I wasn’t reading today, I was tidying up my room. My therapist says when you’re feeling SCARCITY, one way to feel ABUNDANCE is to give something away. “It doesn’t have to be a lot,” she says. “It could be a dollar, a t-shirt, a hour of your time. Anything to get the energy flowing.” So that’s what I did, picked out stuff to donate–several shirts, a pair of shoes (the too-big ones I tore my ACL in), a handful of books I’ll either never read or never read again. Let someone else enjoy them, I thought. Then I went through my “paper pile” and threw this in the trash, filed that in a folder. Then I reorganized a few shelves in my closet. You know how one thing leads to another.

I wish I could tell you WHY I felt compelled to tidy up my room today or–as I’ve been doing recently–clean up my Facebook friends list. My therapist says any cleaning out makes room for other things to come along, so maybe that’s it. Maybe a part of me knows that this blog is coming to a close and–at the same time–my body is mending, so I just need more “room,” more health for whatever is coming next. But this is speculation. I can’t say why anything happened today, just like I can’t say why the sun rose this morning. I only know that it did, it was right on time, and it was perfect. More and more I know it’s not my job to know why. Rather, it’s my job to follow my inner guidance, that voice that says, “Check out that doctor. Read this book, not that one. Go to dinner now, not later.” It’s my job to be patient, trust that answers are coming, and enjoy the mystery of it all.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"The heart sings for its own reasons."