On Slowing Down, Changing Worlds, and Seasons (Blog #1092)

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In an interview I listened to yesterday, former head hostage negotiator for the FBI Chris Voss said, “You have to go slow to go fast.” Meaning that in high-stakes or even low-stakes negotiations it pays to pump the brakes, really listen to the other party (rather than simply trying to cram your viewpoint down their throat), and communicate clearly. In dancing we say it like this: take time to do the prep, the setup. Don’t get ahead of the beat. Once I told a couple who was working on a routine for their wedding, “You’re already going too fast now, and I can promise you that you’ll go even faster on your wedding day (because of adrenaline) if you’re not careful.” Well, I was at the wedding, and sure enough they were at least eight eight-counts (sixty-four beats) ahead of the music.

Which means they finished before the song did.

Ugh. Pumping the brakes is such a challenging thing. We live in a fast-food society, and we want what we want when we want it (now). The internet and Amazon Prime haven’t helped things, since they’ve made both information and everything under the sun almost immediately available. Consequently, our natural tendency toward impatience has been encouraged. Perhaps this in one of the silver linings to our current situation with respect to COVID-19. We’re being forced to stay in, slow down (even the internet is dragging because so many people are on it), and wait. For a solution. For our jobs. For toilet paper.

As I’ve thought about the phrase “go slow to go fast” today, I’ve related it to this blog and my personal journey, one of my consistent themes being “slow down, be patient.” Not that I’ve WANTED to slow down, but it’s simply been the only way. To learn all the things I have in therapy, to learn all the things I have through this blog. Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “The years teach much the days never know.” Amen. This is the way of it. You can’t hurry love, you can’t rush the seasons, and you can’t speed up your own personal transformation. Not that you don’t have any say in how long it will take, since God knows you could drag your feet about it or refuse to do your part, but even when you’re doing everything you know to do, metamorphosis is not going to happen overnight.

Alas, slowing down seems to be the best way to “get there.” This is a message of myofascial release too. It’s not push hard and fast, it’s push gently (sink) and slow. It’s wait for at least five minutes. I know, I know. Who has five minutes? But the good news is that if you do go easy and you do wait, restrictions that have been rock hard for years can melt like butter. This is the “go fast” part. Meaning the best way to get quick, lasting results is to slow the hell down.

It’s counterintuitive, I know. But look at nature. The way a tree grows. The way a baby grows. Life doesn’t get in a hurry. And yet we do. Despite the fact that we ARE life. Three years ago I started this writing project wanting to get somewhere. Recognized or whatever. And boy was I in a mental hurry. But having spent every day since slowly but surely putting down hundreds of thousands of words, thoughts, and ideas and having been changed by the process for the better, I’m convinced “steady as she goes” is the only way. What’s more, now that I’m quickly approaching the end, there’s part of me that wishes I hadn’t been in such a rush in the beginning. That I’d savored The Changing more.

Tonight I started working my way through a free online class about storytelling presented by Khan Academy and the creative team at Pixar. It’s magical. Anyway, one thing the Pixar people talk about is the difference between a character’s wants and needs, two things that are often (and probably should be) at odds with each other. For example, in The Wizard of Oz, Dorothy WANTS to get back home to Kansas. But what Dorothy NEEDS is to get in touch with her brains, heart, and courage. In other words, Dorothy doesn’t need to get back home to Kansas, she NEEDS to get back home to herself.

And who doesn’t really?

Thinking about the wants and needs in my life, I know that a few years ago I WANTED to move to Texas and start my career as a writer. Alas, the gods had other plans, since what I NEEDED was to first unlock the talents, sensitivities, and powers inside of me that back then lay dormant. In terms of storytelling, what I’ve undergone the last several years would be called “a character arc,” meaning that THROUGH CONFLICT and by OVERCOMING OBSTACLES, I’ve transformed into a better version of myself. Unfortunately, both in storytelling and in life, it appears conflict and obstacles are NECESSARY COMPONENTS for getting us not where we WANT to be, but where we NEED to be.

This sucks, I know.

Naturally, we WANT this transformation to happen quickly. More often than not, we NEED it to happen slowly. (Why, Marcus?) Because every time you change something about yourself (a thought, a belief, a boundary, a perception), you quite literally change the world you’re living in. Not that you leave earth and end up on a different planet, but in effect you do. Because every time you change you end up playing by a different set rules, and that means your interactions, strategies, and results change. So you might as well be living on Mars. Or in Oz. All this to say that world-changing is jarring, so you need time to adjust and get the lay of the land. Okay, I’m single now. All right, I’m not putting up with that crap anymore. Shit, I’m quarantined.

More and more my message to myself and others is, Sweetheart, be patient. Yes, there are mysteries inside you that desperately want to come out. But mysteries are never called out in a flash or forced out through screaming. (Hurry up and heal!) Rather, mysteries are coaxed out by being snuggled up to, by being deeply heard. Sweetheart, what do you have to reveal to me? I’m listening. And do please take your time. This is why we have time. Not so that we can get an answer to our problems lickety split, but so that we can be grown by both our trials and our triumphs, the way a tree is grown by life’s ever-changing seasons.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Healing is like the internet at my parents’ house—it takes time.

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The Giving (Blog #1090)

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Last night after I posted the blog and as I crawled into bed, I was dead tired. My neck, back, and shoulders ached. I am so over this shit, I thought. Ready to pass out. But then I started thinking about myofascial release and about how almost four years ago I saw a rolfing therapist (rolfing is a form of bodywork that also works with fascia) who did a release on my sinuses by sticking his finger up my nose. (No kidding. I tell the entire story in a live video here.) Well, you guessed it. Lying in bed, I stuck my pinky on the inside of my nostril (first one, then the other) and applied gentle pressure until I felt any tension relax. And whereas I know this sounds odd, oh my god, y’all, I could feel the release into my neck and shoulders, into this knot that’s been there, I don’t know, over two years now. Seriously, just like that, it unraveled, like, thirty percent.

The idea behind working with your fascia is that everything in your body is connected. The way a spider web or sweater is. All knitted together. This is why especially by working with your internal fascia (by entering through an orifice, if you must know), you can affect changes throughout your entire body. In terms of my sinuses, I imagine they affected my neck because 1) things got “cinched down” through years of stopping tears, 2) things got “crunched up” due to any number of car accidents, or 3) things constricted when I had my sinus surgery. This last possible explanation is apparently a common occurrence, since surgeries actually cut the fascia, thus causing scarring and bunching. Think of the way your clothes are never the same after they’re mended or sewn back together. There’s always a pull somewhere.

What I’m learning, however, is that, with a little help, the body can repair itself, stretch itself back out or whatever needs to be done. If you’ve never had myofascial release or felt something let go and reverberate throughout your body, think of what happens when kids scrunch up the paper wrapper that goes around a straw. That’s the constriction. Then think of what happens when they drop some water on the scrunched-up paper. Like magic, it unfurls. That’s the release.

Tonight’s blog is #1090 in a row and begins my final week of this three-year-long project. Said another way, one week from tonight I’ll be done. Scratching my head. Probably writing to myself, What do I do now? But not posting it. Regardless, this is my last Tuesday post.

Wow.

Daddy needs a break.

Recently a dear friend asked, “What are you stopping the blog?” Hum. That’s a good question. My answer being, “In short, I’m tired.” Meaning this entire thing really has taken a lot out of me. Granted, it’s given so much more, but there’s still been The Taking. Of my time. Of my creative resources. Of my emotions. God, I’m surprised my keyboard hasn’t shorted out from all the tears. Suffice it to say it’s been exhausting, and Daddy needs a break. More than this, however, it’s simply time. That is, a little over three years ago I “just knew” I needed to start this thing, at some point I “just knew” it needed to last three years, and now I “just know” it’s time to stop. Everyone knows when a good meal, however delightful, is over, and, well, this one is. It’s time for me to go home now.

The thing being, of course, that this blog has brought me home. To myself. That’s the way I see it. That for years, decades, I was wandering about the world not really knowing who I was, what I was about, or what I was capable of. Then my ex acted like a total shit (seriously, he was fabulous at being an ass), and I started therapy (six years ago today, in fact). Not that one ever knows when their journey begins (I think we’re on it from our first breath, if not before), but that’s when mine began. Then this blog came along and really kicked it into high gear. If therapy was like getting a bachelor’s degree in understanding myself and my emotions, this blog has been like getting a master’s. Or even a doctorate.

Well, sooner or later, everyone graduates.

I just said that my journey began when I started therapy, but it would be more accurate to say that my dark night of the soul began when I started therapy. The dark night of the soul (or dark night of the ego, as Robert Ohotto calls it) simply being a technical undoing of the major patterns in one’s life that no longer serve them. Caroline Myss says that when we ask ourselves, “Why was I born, why was I given life?” that’s really not a question. “It’s a prayer,” she says. “To God. Who else do you think is qualified to answer such a thing?” Well, apparently this is a dangerous prayer to pray, since, according to Myss, when you ask it you’re in effect saying, “Show me why my soul chose to come here,” the answer to which, by necessity, involves a stripping away of all the strategies, beliefs, and systems you’ve come up with during the course of your life that are NOT in alignment with your soul’s calling.

Enter the dark night.

The dark night mostly sucks.

As I’ve experienced it over the last many years, the dark night mostly sucks. Which is why for the longest time I’ve said that I don’t recommend this path (even though I do). Because it’s painful. You lose your shit (or at least you lose your attachment to it), you lose your friends (or at least the ones that aren’t a good fit anymore), and you damn near lose your mind (the divine has this effect on a person). Part of the reason being, according to Ohotto, that the dark night is a holding pattern, meaning that you feel and are powerless. This is why I’ve said over and over again that I’ve tried, tried, tried everything under the sun to heal, grow, and be successful but have again and again come up with peanuts. As it turns out, this has been by design, on purpose. Meaning that I needed to spin my wheels in order to let my old ways, my old life, peter out. “The divine can’t let you experience what you want during the dark night,” Ohotto says, “because you’d just go back to doing things the way you did them before.”

And that way clearly wasn’t working.

According to both Myss and Ohotto, our entire world has, thanks to COVID-19, recently and collectively entered the dark night process. Meaning that, from a technical standpoint, a number of things haven’t been working for a while now and need to be deactivated. Of course, this sounds good if you say it fast, but expect (even more) weeping and gnashing of teeth. Expect your old life to be gone in the blink of an eye (sorry, bye bye now), and expect to feel and be powerless. Expect the whole thing to suck.

All dark nights come to an end.

The good news, however, is that all dark nights come to an end. Sometimes after months, sometimes after years, but they do eventually move on. What’s left on the other side? Something better, something more in alignment with your soul, the soul of humanity, and with God. Feeling like I’m on the tail end of my personal dark night, I’m experiencing not only more joy and inner peace, but also more power. Or agency. That is, whereas for years I’ve felt like I was getting nowhere, lately I’ve been feeling like I’m getting somewhere, everywhere. Largely thanks to a number of different therapies and medical techniques I’ve been trying, I’m actually starting to believe, “Wait a damn minute, I can heal. I can be successful. I can really do something with this life I’ve been given.”

With the holding pattern/powerless idea in mind, I’m honestly not sure that the specific therapies and techniques I’ve been using matter. I’ve talked about and love them, of course–upper cervical care, EMDR, myofascial release–but apparently this whole thing has been a divine setup from the beginning. Meaning that when you’re in the dark night, nothing you do will work. Because you’ve got to learn to surrender. And not take credit for everything. Because life can get more done with you when you’re humble. Then, after you’ve gone through hell and have risen from the ashes, things will start working again. So sure, I’m getting a lot of mileage from putting my finger up my nose, but perhaps if I’d stumbled across yoga now instead of five years ago, I’d be in child’s pose instead of child’s nose. So take this to heart if you’re spinning your wheels. Maybe it’s not about you and what you’re doing. Maybe it’s about timing.

Getting back to why I’m ending this blog, I honestly think it’s because long, long ago (in a galaxy far, far away), I signed up to spend three years going through and talking daily about the dark night (but not necessarily what comes after it). In order to help myself heal, sure, but also to help others heal. So that we could all believe a little more, or maybe a lot more, not only that things get better, but also that we get better–together. Because no one is alone here. This is my encouragement to anyone, whether you’re going through a transition/transformation individually, collectively, or both. Hang in there. This process will, by definition, take something from you. (And that will suck.) Everything comes with a price. But you’ll be better, more beautiful, more content, more confident, and more you on the other side. (And this will be more lovely than you can imagine.) This is The Giving.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We can hang on and put everything safely in its place, and then at some point, we’re forced to let go.

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What If? (Blog #1088)

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So, I don’t know, last summer or sometime I ended up with psoriasis on my right elbow. And whereas it wasn’t awful, it was irritating. So I did all the creams and potions, traditional and non-traditional, cleaned up my diet, and it went away. Honestly, for months I forgot about it. Then about a month ago, out of nowhere, well, out of my elbow, it came back. Damn it, I thought, then went to work with the same creams and potions. Alas, the problem has slowly but steadily gotten worse, despite all my try, try, trying to make it go away. Granted, the one thing I haven’t tried is cleaning up my diet.

Because, you know, peanut butter.

This being said, I have been fasting all day. This is something I was in the habit of doing once a week several months ago but let slip. I guess because I get myself into so many different “things” that it’s difficult to keep them all going. Sure, therapy has stuck. A number of things have stuck. But so many haven’t. I don’t know. I’m a technique sampler. So sue me. Anyway, there is something good about having tried so many techniques. It’s given my intuition a list of actions, things to do, to choose from. Which is why I’m back to fasting in the first place. For weeks my intuition and body have been saying, “Try that fasting deal again. We could use a break.” So I finally listened.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

This being said, I’m happy to report that even before I began my fast last night, the psoriasis on my elbow started noticeably improving. Who knows why? Granted, I have been trying all the things, but nothing new. Well, except for a very strange (so strange that I’m not going to go into it) energy-healing technique called two-pointing I read about in The Physics of Miracles: Tapping into the Field of Consciousness Potential by Richard Bartlett (a super out-there but fascinating and mind-bending read). So yeah, I did the strange thing. And stopped using my prescription steroid cream. But I’ve kept using my over-the-counter cream, vitamin E, and Himalayan salt water. Just like I was before. And no kidding. My elbow’s not itching as much, and my skin is smoother and less red. And whereas I could wake up tomorrow and things could be worse than ever, the point is I’m encouraged.

I’m hopeful.

Something I’ve been thinking about a lot the last two days, since I read it in The Physics of Miracles, is the question, “What if it were different?” It being my itchy elbow, the tightness in my neck, my finances, whatever. I can’t tell you how much I love this question. Not only because it allows for the possibility (however small or big) that things COULD CHANGE, but also because it doesn’t imply that I as the problem-haver have to come up with a solution. According to Bartlett, this possibility-allowing is a key ingredient in getting a problem to shift. That is, there has to be a change in perception (by you) that SOMETHING DIFFERENT, something BETTER, could, just possibly, come along. Because if you’re not WILLING to see something different, you simply won’t, even if it’s there.

Case in point: all the people who refuse to believe (and therefore see) that COVID-19 is to be taken seriously.

It doesn’t take much hope to make a difference.

So many times in my life I’ve been discouraged thinking that whatever issues I was currently obsessed about couldn’t improve. And yet as I look back and think of the first day I went to therapy and the first time I tried any number of things, I realize that my trying was, in effect, my way of asking, “What if my life were different?” Granted, I haven’t always believed deep down that my life would improve for the better (mentally, emotionally, physically, spiritually), but nonetheless I was hoping. Now, having seen lots of improvement in all the above-mentioned areas, I know it doesn’t take much hope to make a difference. Just enough to say, “Maybe, just maybe, things could turn around.”

Currently I’m applying this idea to my body, not just to my skin, but also to my tight muscles. Earlier today I went through a series of do-it-yourself myofascial stretches, which I guess is going to be my reality for the foreseeable future. (My myofascial release therapist, like the rest of the world, is on hiatus.) Anyway, I had some nice releases. Granted, all my problems didn’t–poof!–disappear like I wanted them to. But this is apparently the deal. Instantaneous miracles are possible, but more often than not they come in incremental doses. Meaning I’ll probably need to continue stretching for weeks or months before I really start noticing lasting changes. Ugh. This is how life (especially life currently) works. Things on earth take time. So if you’re not patient, you better get patient.

And if you can’t get patient, at least prepare yourself to get frustrated.

Whenever I find myself thinking, What if my life were different?, it’s amazing how quickly certain parts of me begin to shut down my hope for something better. I guess because I don’t want to be disappointed (again). But really, these parts of me (and I’ve come to realize they are only parts, not the whole of me), are real Debbie Downers. They say, “That’ll never work. Maybe other people can heal, but we can’t. We can’t afford to.” The “I can’t afford it” line is a favorite of mine, one I used to use all the time–and still often do–when I think something could be helpful for me. Well, the universe is ironic. Lately I’ve been getting fabulous treatment and results via EMDR and myofascial release, and–because I’m poor–my insurance pays for everything. Turns out I can’t afford it. And yet I can still do it.

Tell me God doesn’t have a sense of humor.

Anything can turn around.

Despite the wonderful turnarounds I’ve been experiencing recently, I still find myself doubting, thinking, Yeah, I’ve improved, but things can’t get even better. In fact, they’ll probably get worse. It’s that whole other shoe dropping thing. I catch myself wondering HOW things will improve, like I’ve gotta come up with all the answers. Despite the fact that everything good that’s come into my life has, yeah, involved me, but it’s also involved some sort of miracle. Some sort of extra help or “well, that worked out better than I planned.” So this is my encouragement to you if you dare to wonder, What if my life could be different? Don’t try to figure out the how. Or say it’s not possible. Because it’s a big universe. A huge universe full of possibilities and answers. A gigantic universe that cares about you and, yes, your problems. So just sit in this fact for a while. Anything can turn around. If you’re willing to see it (What if you were willing to see it?), the whole world is overflowing with miracles.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Sometimes life can really kick you in the balls and make you drop to your knees.

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Leave the Raft Behind (Blog #1087)

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It’s 11:50 at night, and this is the beginning of the end. No, not of the world, although I guess that’s possible. Anything is possible these days. Rather, it’s the beginning of the end of this blog. I only have ten more posts including this one to go. And whereas I’m looking forward to having two hours (on average) of every day back to sleep, work on other projects, and do whatever the hell I want, I’m also anticipating a loss. That is, I’ve come to love my time here at this keyboard. Mostly, I suppose, because it’s been my safe haven, a place I’ve been able to run to for comfort time and time again, whenever anything–and everything–has gone wrong.

There’s a story in Buddhism, or one of those religions, that if your goal is to reach the other side of a river (enlightenment), then you’re going to have to use a raft (meditation, a guru) to get there. But once you’re on the other side you leave the raft behind. Because, well, why would you need it? You wouldn’t. Because for one thing it’s done its job already. For another, carrying around a raft for the rest of your life would be so terribly awkward.

And bad for your back

Along these lines, my original goal with this blog was to establish a daily writing practice. And whereas I don’t know if I’ll continue to write every day, every damn day, when this is over, I’ve clearly done that. What’s more, I’ve proven to myself that I have what it takes to commit to something I believe in. This writing project. What’s most important, however, is that, really without intending to when I came up with this idea three years ago, I’ve ended up committing to myself. And whereas I think this would have been the case had I–I don’t know–chosen to write a poem or a short story every day (because I would have been building self-esteem by keeping my word to myself), it’s certainly been the case given the fact that for over a thousand days now I’ve sat down and effectively been my own therapist, spiritual guide, healer, and cheerleader. There, there, Sweetheart, we’re going to get through this.

Not that I haven’t had tons of help along the way. And God knows I’ve talked ad nauseam about what that help has been. All my therapists, doctors, modalities, and such. All of which I’m extremely grateful for and have convinced me that there’s always willing help available. Ultimately, The Path is walked alone, but that doesn’t mean you don’t get plenty of support while walking it. Plenty of what Joseph Campbell called supernatural aide. And yet every day and always one finds themselves alone with their thoughts, emotions, dreams, terrors, situations, predicaments, and their past. Alas, although others can help you with these things, these things ultimately have your name written all over them. And so you must learn to deal with them.

And so you must learn to deal with yourself.

It’s weird the breadcrumbs my subconscious, or God or the universe, laid out before me when I (we?) first started this project. That is, my very first blog was titled “it’s time to soften up,” and it was about how I really wanted, needed to go easier on myself. Well, this has been an unintended and, apparently, much-cried-out-for theme these last few years. Sweetheart, chill the fuck out. Be gentle. And whereas I wish I could tell you that I’m “there,” I’m not. But I have made A LOT of progress. Still, recently I told my therapist that I have another project in mind to start after this one but that I wanted to wait a couple weeks before announcing it. “But I can still be planning and working on it,” I said.

“Or you could JUST REST,” she offered.

I mean, there’s an idea. The whole world is on pause right now thanks to COVID-19, so what better time to dramatically slow my roll? Seriously, it’s rough being stuck at home, but I may never be given this amount of free time again in my life. Time to read, time to watch Netflix, time to stretch. Time to get quiet and go inside. Time to heal. This morning I learned that my myofascial release wizard is closing her office for the time being, a fact that would normally upset me because we’ve been getting such good results lately. But more and more I’m trusting 1) divine timing and 2) that if a miracle can happen in a therapist’s office, it can happen in your bedroom.

Don’t I wish?

That was a sex joke, Mom.

Getting back to the idea of miracles (and not the “this is where the magic happens” kind), I’m learning that you have to do your part. Meaning that the chances that Jesus is going to knock on your door and strike you completely healthy are slim. But the chances that heaven is going to meet you more than halfway if you show them that you’re even remotely serious are pretty damn good. This has been my experience over and over again–with my therapist, with this blog, with my EMDR therapist, and with a whole bevy of doctors, practitioners, and helpful books. I cry out, “Help,” do what I know to do, and God (sometimes called Good) comes running.

Help is on the way, dear!

This evening I heard healer Charlie Goldsmith say that our emotions are meant to be felt and experienced but not held on to. “If someone told you a joke, you wouldn’t keep laughing for three weeks,” he said. And yet so many of us hold on to our anger, even when whatever it was that originally caused us to be angry was, like, fucking years ago. And not that you shouldn’t get angry when someone crosses a line or shit hits the fan. You’re just not supposed to hold on to that feeling. (Or, better said, let it hold on to you.) This is another way of saying leave the raft behind. Learn from the emotion and the experience, but don’t carry the teacher with you. Let the dead bury the dead. Let the past be over. Be right here, right now. Sweetheart, come to the other side of the river. Come home again.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"That love inside that shows up as joy or enthusiasm is your authentic self."

Sacred (Blog #1085)

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This afternoon I finished reading What’s in Your Web: Stories of Fascial Freedom by Phil Tavolacci and started and finished Tapping In: A Step-by-Step Guide to Activating Your Healing Resources by Laurel Parnell. And whereas it may sound like a big deal to start and finish an entire book in one day, I mostly skimmed it. Not that it wasn’t full of good information. It’s just that the meaty stuff, the technique for using bilateral stimulation to calm yourself and “lock in” positive and beneficial states of being, was up front; the rest of the book was about how to use that technique in, oh, seventy-five different scenarios.

I’ve talked a lot about EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) lately, thus my interest in bilateral stimulation. And whereas Tapping In is different from EMDR, it’s based on the same idea. That by gently stimulating your body in a back and forth (left, right, left, right) fashion, you somehow encourage your brain to process trauma, self-soothe, and achieve peak performance. In it’s most basic form, Tapping In looks like tapping your feet right-left-right, using your hands to do the same thing on your thighs, or crossing your arms and using your hands to tap your chest or shoulders. This can be done without a topic in mind, and, according to the book, some people say it works because it reminds our bodies of centuries of tribal drumming or just simply being rocked and soothed by our mothers. Others claim it works because it connects both sides of the brain by “crossing the midline.”

With a topic in mind, Tapping In can be used when you’re nervous or recalling or anticipating a stressful or traumatic event. In this case, you’re basically acting like your own mother. There, there, Sweetheart, it’s okay. It’s over. However, the book recommends saving the “major stuff” for your (EMDR) therapist and instead using the tapping technique to make your positive memories “stick” and your best states of being last longer. For example, you could recall a time when you felt on top of the world, or safe, or in love, and then, once you really felt that all over your body, go to tapping. Thus “locking in” that positive feeling and bringing your past fully into the present.

One of my takeaways from from Tapping In was the idea that we all have an entire host of inner resources that are always available to us. For example, my dreams and daydreams are often full of strong animals or even celebrities. And it’s not that these characters with all their power and abilities are out there, in a book or on a movie screen. Rather, they are in here, inside of me. Waiting to be tapped into, waiting to help, waiting to save the day. They say that when you first begin therapy you imagine that your therapist is some sort of superhero. Perhaps this is true. Hell, I created a blog about mine (sort of). But they also say that eventually you realize your therapist is just another flawed human being. Also true. Sooner or later you conclude that all the magical powers you ascribed to your therapist actually reside in you.

Oh, I’m the strong one. I’m the badass. I’m the one who knows how to solve my problems.

Something I’ve been grateful for lately are all the people in my life who’ve supported me throughout my healing journey. The people with whom it would not have been or continue to be possible. Because what they say is true. People harm us, but they also heal us. This has been my experience. For all the crap that some people have directly or indirectly brought into my life (sometimes on a silver platter), an equal amount of healing has been brought to me by others–my therapist, my EMDR therapist, my myofascial release therapist, my upper cervical care doctor, my regular doctor(s). And yes, I know I have a lot of therapists and doctors. It takes a damn village.

Additionally, I’ve been supported sometimes vocally and sometimes non-vocally by my family, friends, and a host of acquaintances and strangers who have witnessed my journey through this blog. And whereas I’m grateful for all my professional and non-professional help, I’d like to point out that those who help you heal and those who support your healing are, often, not the ones you expect to or wish would. Indeed, many times when I’ve wanted the support of specific people, I’ve gotten crickets. And yet support has always come from somewhere, from someone. More and more I believe we get what we need from whom we need it. Having been held and cared for by total strangers while crying and falling apart (and at the same time coming back together), I’ve come to believe that this kind of care is the most profound anyway. Because it says, “I haven’t known you forever, but I’m here for you in this moment. If only for a moment, I’m willing to walk with you and be a cocoon for your metamorphosis. I’m willing to accept and love you as you are.”

Caroline Myss talks about something called a sacred wound, a pain or suffering that cuts so deep that it has the power to not only set you on the path of true healing, but also at the the same time launch your personal transformation. And whereas this may sound lovely, it sucks. Why? Because someone has to deliver the wound, and if you’re not careful you could spend the rest of your life hating that person (or persons). More and more I believe life is like a giant drama in which we all play many–necessary–parts. Meaning that sometimes we’re the wounded, sometimes we’re the wound-er. (This is an ugly job, but someone’s got to do it. Where would Jesus be without Judas?) Likewise, sometimes we’re the healer, sometimes we’re the healed. Deep down, there’s a peace about all this, a knowing that all parts must be played. A knowing that all parts are sacred.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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The more honest you are about what's actually happening inside of you, the happier you are.

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On Pandora’s Piggy Bank of Emotions and COVID-19 (Blog #1077)

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A couple things that have been on my mind today:

1. Shoved-down emotions

Last night a friend and I discussed the human tendency to shove down emotions, this after my blog post yesterday about how we so often keep our dramas and traumas unresolved by hitting the pause button on them instead of letting them play out by fully feeling and learning from them. I always think of my shoved-down emotions as being in a jar (an emotions jar), but that makes it sound like, you know, whenever you want you can take the jar down off the shelf and–to put it bluntly–deal with your shit. I told my friend, “I don’t mean to make it sound that simple.” It’s not. Well, my friend said they picture their shoved-down emotions as coins that have been dropped into a locked piggy bank. The problem? We don’t always know what key opens the bank.

Personally and fortunately, I’ve had some success lately with “opening the bank.” Through traditional talk therapy and this blog, of course, but especially through EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) and myofascial release. Still, although EMDR allows you to choose a topic or emotion that you want processed, both therapies are nonetheless a crap shoot. That is, I have little control over what ultimately happens each session. Or, better said, what emotions come up. Sometimes I cry, sometimes I laugh, sometimes I get angry. In this sense, playing around with these therapies (or any healing strategy that gets results) is a bit like opening Pandora’s Box, or, in keeping with my friend’s way of seeing things, Pandora’s Piggy Bank of Emotions. Like, once you find a key that unlocks what you once locked up, good. Use that sucker. But look out. Because you don’t get to decide what comes flying out or in what order.

In my experience reliving past emotions (through therapy, writing, body work, and EMDR), there’s ALWAYS a discomfort (the emotion and often its accompanying story or message that’s been ignored or put on hold) followed by a comfort (a relief, a re-cognition of thoughts and beliefs, or a recognition that it’s over or of a lesson learned). This is the good news. Buried emotions that are resurrected never do us permanent harm. Rather, they rise again as our teachers. They come bearing gifts. What’s more, once they are felt and fully experienced, they return to our system and become a source of vitality. Think of your shoved down emotions like the characters in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe that are turned into statues by the White Witch. They’re literally frozen in time. But they’re also reading, willing, and able to come back to life, to help you and others, if you can simply break the spell they’re under.

I told my friend that I think a huge part of the “unfreezing your emotions” picture is to simply be willing, to let your body know that, whenever it’s ready, you’re willing to hear what it has to say. Of course, this involves being willing to feel all kinds of terrible and wonderful emotions, and, chances are, investing in some Kleenex. Also, it involves a willingness to be wrong. Because, guaranteed, what your body thinks and what you think (or would like to think) are two different things, and when you open Pandora’s Piggy Bank of Emotions, your body is going to have the last say. This is ultimately a good thing, but you gotta be ready to have your world turned upside down. Because as soon as you FEEL different, you WILL think, believe, act, and interact different. In short, everything in your life will LOOK different.

This, of course, is scary as shit and probably why most of us do our best to keep the lid on.

Still, I recommend being willing to change, being willing to heal.

2. COVID-19

Tonight I went grocery shopping for my parents. And whereas I found everything on their list, I had to look long and hard to find toilet paper, which we actually needed. Ugh. This virus is becoming A THING, a problem. Tonight I learned that, in addition to international travel being severely restricted by the federal government, several major large gatherings (dances, meetings, etc.) are being postponed or canceled voluntarily by their organizers. Part of me is taking all of this in stride. Part of me is freaking out. (I’m never leaving the house again. Except to buy toilet paper.) It’s a fine line.

Tying this conversation to the previous one, I will say that the more I deal with and process my childhood and adolescent dramas and traumas, the less REACTIVE I am to, well, anything. Like, I’m not scared as easily. I don’t sweat as much (metaphorically speaking). Free of my past crap, I can think more clearly and be RESPONSIVE. This applies not only to COVID-19, but to everything. Last night my friend and I saw a play and stood by the stage door afterwards so they could get autographs from a few of the cast. Years ago I would have been trembling, shaking in my boots, intimidated. Last night I was like, I’m standing outside on a warm night. Oh look, there are some lovely and talented people. Just like me.

Along these lines, my main and foremost thought about COVID-19 is that I think one of the reasons people are going nuts is because the virus is demonstrating a fact that we all know deep down, and may even say out loud, but certainly don’t act like is true. What fact? The fact that we are all not only connected to each other, but also dependent upon each other. Why do we freak out when one person hundreds of miles away has the virus? Because, for one thing, what if THAT PERSON works in a toilet paper factory! For another, we intuitively know that a virus can spread just like that. Because we are all inextricably woven together like a spider’s web, and what affects one of us affects the whole.

We get this when it comes to COVID-19. Alas, we forget that our individual thoughts, emotions, and beliefs affect our WHOLE body. And not only our whole body, but the world’s whole body. We think it’s not a big deal to carry around ancient baggage or false perceptions, and yet we all know entire families that are made miserable by one person who refuses to deal with their shit. We all know communities and nations that have been paralyzed by gossip–gossip!–that’s traveled faster than a virus. Now, I don’t like this any more than you do, the fact that we’re all connected. Because it means that what you do or don’t do affects me. Because it means that people I don’t like are not only influencing the world I live in but are, in fact, necessary to it.

John Donne said, “No man is an Island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the Continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friends or of thine own were; any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee.” These are the facts. No thought, emotion, belief, or person is unimportant.

So let’s start acting like it.

And, of course, washing our hands.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Some things simply take time and often more than one trip to the hardware store.

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The Stuff Movies Are Made of (Blog #1076)

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Currently it’s 9:30 in the morning. I know. It’s early. I just did this (blogged) less than twelve hours ago. But I have a full day today. In a few hours, I’m going to see my myofascial release wizard. Then I’m going to see my therapist. Then I’m going to see a show and have dinner with a friend. (Going, going, going.) At some point, I need to take a shower. Yeah, that’d be nice. Not necessary, mind you, but nice. Anyway, so I’m blogging now. Part of me has nothing to say. Part of me has everything to say.

This is the way of it.

With the end of the blog, or at least the end of my blogging daily, quickly approaching (three weeks from today I’ll wake up relieved, terrified, and grateful, and it’ll all be over), lately I’ve been (even more) introspective. Although many days I’ve wanted to throw my laptop into the fires of Mordor, this entire project has been such a good thing for me that I often wonder what I’ll do without out. My Inner Perfectionist wants it to be Right, completed by The Last Day. Since this entire project has, at its core, really been a means for me to come, meet, understand, accept, like, and love myself, this means that my Inner Perfectionist wants me to be Right, completed by The Last Day. He wants me to be whole, healed, happy, and healthy (in every way), um, three weeks from now, and to have said everything I have to say about it.

This, of course, is a ludicrous notion.

That guy.

Twenty minutes ago I walked into our “plants and puzzles” room to take today’s selfie and noticed and reflected upon a puzzle I started, I don’t know, a few months ago, a Van Gogh, something I only work on every so often, when the mood strikes. Anyway, I realized that I was getting close to done. Only a handful of rows on the bottom need to be filled in. One or two more concentrated “putting together” sessions, and that’ll be it for that puzzle. It’ll be back in the box or up on the wall, and on to the next mystery. So are the days of our lives. We finish puzzles and projects, books and blogs, but we ourselves are never finished. Until the day we die, we’re a work in progress. On the one hand, there’s nothing to say about it. We are what we are in this moment. On the other hand, there’s everything to say about it. We contain multitudes.

Something I’ve long believed and have experienced lately through EMDR and myofascial release is that our bodies forget nothing. “You may have repressed [ignored] or suppressed [relegated to your unconscious] part of your life, but your body has remembered it all,” my EMDR therapist says. More and more I’m struck by the wonder of this and have started thinking of the individual events and interactions in our lives, especially our dramas and traumas, like play-at-home movies that can’t be fast-forwarded or ejected until they’e completely played out. Meaning that when we repress or suppress a reaction or emotion, we’re not hitting the stop button (there is no stop button). At best, we’re hitting the pause button.

For me, therapy, this blog, EMDR, myofascial release, and a number of other therapies have allowed many of the old movies of my life to finally play out. And be over. This often has involved a cathartic release of emotions (anger, sadness, frustration, disgust, joy), emotions that got (literally) frozen in my cell tissue God knows when. (My body knows when.) Along these lines, myofascial release sometimes refers to this letting go process as “thawing,” especially when the body shakes or tremors.

I used to read about all this stuff, the way our bodies store our emotions and memories in our fascia, and think it sounded real good. Like, isn’t that nice? Alas, having experienced it, I don’t mind saying it’s real gross. Helpful, healing, but gross. All this to say that I wish it weren’t true. Not for me, and not for you. And yet it seems to be the way of it for all of us, the way we were designed to be and function but weren’t told about when we were younger by our families, teachers, preachers, and doctors. (My Inner Conspiracy Theorist added that last part.) Chances are, they didn’t know either.

Yesterday I blogged about how miraculous our bodies are and how more and more I’m learning to trust mine. Caroline Myss says that she doesn’t see so many pounds of flesh when she sees someone’s body. Rather, she sees “an energy system,” a system of power. And whereas as a former medical intuitive Caroline can sense and “just know” where someone is sick or losing power in their body (and why), I can’t. I am, however, really starting to get the concept that, consciously or unconsciously, how each of us organizes our energy system/body in a particular fashion. We put this event on pause. We play that event over and over and over again. We never finish that puzzle. Even though we could.

More and more this is my advice to myself and anyone else: hit the play button on your past and let it finally be over. Unfreeze your body and your life. Finish as many of your puzzles as possible. The inside kind, not the outside kind. Not by running away from yourself, but my running toward yourself. Really, that’s what this blog has given, and what it will continue to give me even after I write The Last Word, a connection to myself and my inner wisdom. It’s given me a knowing that I’ve come equipped with everything I need for this journey. That I don’t have to look out there to find it; it’s all in here. I realize this sounds too good to be true, the stuff movies are made of. And yet it is true, the way of it. You are a wonder.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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When you hide your hurt, you can’t help but pass it on. It ends up seeping, sometimes exploding out.

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Knowing (Blog #1074)

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Currently it’s 10:39 at night, and I’m uncomfortable in my body. For the last few days I’ve been fighting either a sinus infection or just a good old fashioned cold, and it’s left me feeling ever so slightly achy. Like I’ve been run over by a car. Not a big car, mind you. More like a Power Wheels. You know, the kind toddlers drive. But still, definitely a big Power Wheels. Like a truck, not a sedan. A Power Wheels truck driven by a very large toddler who’s actually the size and weight of a teenager. In other words, my back hurts. Probably from lying in bed too much. Plus, my right eye’s been twitching, and my right elbow’s been itching. “And you’ve been bitching,” my dad added when I told him all this earlier.

Everyone’s a comedian.

All this being said, and thankfully, I’m feeling better than I was yesterday. I’ve had more energy today, less congestion. I haven’t sneezed as much. This evening, for the first time in almost a week, I took a shower. That helped. Granted, fifteen minutes later I blew snot into the inside of my clean tank top, but whatever. My hair is clean.

That’s really something.

Yesterday I mentioned a book I started reading a couple days ago, What’s in Your Web? Stories of Fascial Freedom by Phil Tavolacci. This evening I read more of it, and a quote that stood out was, “What if it were easy?” Like, we make healing out to be this huge thing, almost impossible, but what if it weren’t? Personally I know that I’ve tried for years to get certain parts of my body to relax with little success until recently. Now, thanks to myofascial release, seemingly solid structures within me have begun to melt like butter. Not that my successes have been overnight or “one and done”–healing is always a process–but my strides have been much simpler than I previously imagined.

Likewise, I’ve made a lot of progress through upper cervical care and EMDR (eye movement desensitization and reprocessing). And whereas there is work involved–I have to drive to my respective doctors and pay them–the actual methods and techniques used are simple. Emotional at times, sure, especially with EMDR, but anything but complicated. What’s more, they’re working faster than years of traditional chiropractic or talk therapy.

What if it were easy?

Last night I had a series of dreams in which I was working closely or intimately involved with a couple recurring characters I normally avoid (in my dreams). To me this means that I’m changing on a conscious and subconscious level and that I’m accepting and integrating previous “cast off” parts of myself. In other words, both my historic and recent efforts are paying off. This is one benefit to keeping a dream journal, even if you only occasionally write down “the biggies” or note certain themes–you can see how you’re evolving over time.

Alas, had I not been paying attention to the fact that I used to run from certain people in my dreams, I may not have realized the significance of the fact that I’m now embracing them. Likewise, I’m glad I have this blog, which, among other things, is a written record of the majority of my inner and outer struggles. Because so often when I’m in the throws of something difficult it’s easy to imagine that I haven’t made any progress at all. And yet looking back I can see that I have. This is everything, knowing that you’re growing as a person. Knowing that you’re not only capable of healing, but that you are healing. Even if, in the moment, you can’t stop sneezing.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Give yourself an abundance of grace.

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Messy (Blog #1073)

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This morning and afternoon I was supposed to attend a writing class I signed up and paid for last week. Alas, sick with the crud and feeling like a bag of ass, last night I emailed the organizer and said I wouldn’t make it. So I’ve spent the day in bed, sneezing and reading and saying, “God help me” over and over and over again. Now it’ 9:30 at night, and I’m propped up in the living room in order to blog, sipping tea, the inside of my shirt covered in snot. God help me.

One of the books I’ve been reading today (I’m always working on more than one at a time) is called What’s in Your Web? Stories of Fascial Freedom by Phil Tavolacci. It’s about myofascial release (MFR), as taught by John F. Barnes, which I’ve been receiving recently from my myofascial release wizard (MFRW) and is changing my body and my life for the better. Specifically, the book is about how our fascia or connective tissue literally forms a web inside us that not only holds our bodies in space but also holds our mental and emotional memories. For anyone interested in the topic, I highly recommend it.

Maybe it’s just because I’m not feeling well, but something the book mentions that resonated with me is what’s called a Healing Crisis. Basically, it’s the idea that whenever you truly begin to heal, things are going to get worse before they get better. (This sucks, I know.) Why? Because you’ve poked the bear, disturbed ancient junk. Think of the way a dirty casserole dish initially gets dirtier and murkier when you first start running water into it. Ultimately the water is cleansing, but first it’s disturbing. So like, hang in there, Sweetheart, it just takes time.

Along these lines, apparently John F. Barnes says, “Healing is messy.” Amen. In my experience, it’s anything but a straight line, more like what happens when you poke a hole in a helium balloon and it goes flying every which way. One minute you’re up, the next minute you’re upside down. Or flat on your back. You think, This sucks. I’m getting nowhere. Even if you are. Even if you can’t see it.

Something I’ve been thinking about lately is how, if we’re really on our path, we’re led to where we need to go, to whom we need to meet. Used to I’d read books about people who had healed and think I had to do what they did, just the way they did. Alas, this always ended in frustration, since it’s impossible to take the exact healing route someone else has taken. Not only because working with their particular doctor or therapist, or eating their specific diet, would be unreasonable in terms of logistics and money, but also because what works for one person almost never works the exact same way for someone else. Because no two people have the same history or set of problems. Consequently, no two prescriptions for wellness can be the same.

More and more I’m learning to trust my path for me. I’m learning to trust that the professionals I’ve been led to and the books and information that fascinate me hold an important piece of my healing puzzle. Maybe not someone else’s healing puzzle–maybe, but maybe not–but my healing puzzle. Again, this whole process is messy. (Achoo!) It never happens as fast as you want it to. (Boo.) But it does happen. Over time, that which has been broken is put back together. That which has been shattered is mended.

God help us.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Pressure, it seems, is necessary to positive internal change. After all, lumps of coal don't shine on their own.

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

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

No damn where.

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

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

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

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

Whether we like it or not.

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

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

Am I ready to let go of my old life?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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And God knows you don't make everyone else happy. But this is no reason to quit or be discouraged, since doing what you love and feel called to do is never--never--about gaining acceptance from others.

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