Use the Difficulty (Blog #898)

Last night, for my thirty-ninth birthday, I went out to eat with several of my dear friends. It was the perfect thing–good people, good food, good god I’m getting older. But seriously, it was a fabulous night. Yesterday I joked that thankfully no one had sung to me or put a sombrero on my head. And whereas last night no one put a sombrero on my head, the wait staff did sing to me. Which I was fine with, since they also brought me a chocolate dessert (!) with four candles on it. I guess one candle for every 9.75 years I’ve been alive. When they finished singing, one of the waiters smiled and said, “Congratulations.”

I was like, “For making it this long?”

After dinner my friends and I went downtown for live music, a band none of us had ever heard before. My friend Justin described it as a mix of blues, rock, and folk. You know, good-ole-boy stuff. For me, it was just the right thing. Not over-the-top amazing, but solid nonetheless. Enjoyable. One of the last songs they played before we left was a swing tune, so Justin and I danced east coast swing together. It was awesome. Except that my hips hurt today. Maybe this is part of getting older. (Congratulations.)

Whenever I dance with another guy in public, especially in Fort Smith, Arkansas, I’m self-conscious. I think, I wonder if people are watching. I wonder if I’m going to get beat up. Personally, I don’t think anyone should have to fret about their safety if they’re simply doing something (or someone) they love, but this is the world we live in. I didn’t make the rules. Plus, I’m starting to think people as a whole are more accepting, or at least less aggressive, than I thought they were. Last night while Justin and I were dancing a big “dude” came out of the bathroom and looked at us. Then he just kept walking. Like, no big deal. Now, I don’t know what he was thinking–it could have been, Disgusting, or I wish I could do that (or him). Either way, it turns out there was enough room in the bar, in the world for all of us.

This afternoon I spent some time reading Terry Gross’s All I Did Was Ask, a compilation of interviews Terry’s conducted on National Public Radio’s Fresh Air. One of the last interviews I read was with Michael Caine, the actor. In it he shares one of the best pieces of advice he ever received. The deal was that once he was supposed to walk into a room, through a doorway, but there was a chair on the other side that was in his way. His director said, “Use the difficulty.” Caine said, “What do you mean?” So the director explained, “If it’s a drama, pick up the chair and smash it. If it’s a comedy, trip over the chair and fall on the floor.”

Use the difficulty. I can’t tell you how much I love this. Five-and-a-half years ago I was absolutely heartbroken and depressed. Looking back, I guess I could have, would have gotten over it eventually. Instead, I was more proactive and started therapy. Hands down, it’s the best decision I’ve ever made. Likewise, I’ve had a number of other challenging relationships over the years. Instead of seeing them as “a bunch of bullshit,” I’ve seen them as opportunities for growth–chances for me to speak up, set boundaries, or change unproductive patterns. Think of a difficult person or situation in your life–maybe a health problem. What if instead of complaining you thought, This is a chance for me to dig deep, to really change, a chance for me to get my act together? What if instead of pushing your challenges away you thought, This situation belongs to me. It has my name written all over it?

More and more, this is the way I’m coming to see my life. I can look at every challenging thing in my past and see how it’s been a chance for me to mature. I could whine and bitch that the world isn’t the same for guys who dance together, but the truth is that’s just the difficulty I’ve been given, and it’s my choice whether or not to use it. Aren’t you given similar choices on a daily basis–the chance to be patient, the chance to be forgiving? Regardless of what’s challenging for you, ask yourself, Will I use my difficulty, or will my difficulty use me? In terms of me and whether or not I dance in public, I know that if I let my fears control me, I could very well end up sitting down for the rest of my life. Or I could stand up, dance, and let the chips fall where they may. I could get ever more so comfortable in my own skin and see that–most of the time–people respond positively to that. And if they don’t? That’s their difficulty, their chance to grow.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It’s okay to ask for help.

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On Today and Becoming Famous (Sort of) (Blog #593)

Things that happened today–

1. I woke up

Last night I passed out way early but only slept for a couple hours. Then I tossed and turned for a couple hours, then I finally fell back asleep. Then when my bladder woke me up this morning/afternoon, I was in a fog, which I’ve been in ever since. My hips hurt, and–I know this sounds like something an old person would say, but–it’s probably because the weather’s changing. Seriously, I do not thrive when it’s cold outside. Still, as my dad says, “Any day above ground is a good day.”

2. I remembered how much I’ve forgotten

This afternoon I worked more on my photo-sorting project. I’m getting close to done. A few more days like today, and I should have it licked. Anyway, nothing profound came up today, at least nothing that hasn’t come up before. But here’s a photo of me and my friend DeAnna, who taught me how to dance. (She’s the responsible party.) I know it was taken in Biloxi, MS, but I can’t for the life of me remember when. Well wait, I think it was sometime around (either just before or after) Hurricane Katrina, which was in 2005. So that’s a clue. I swear, trying to remember my life is like trying to solve a murder mystery.

3. I faced my fears

For over a year I’ve been meaning to add a “donate” page to the website, but have been putting it off, putting it off because it brings up a lot of issues for me. (Fear of money, fear of rejection, fear of acceptance.) But my therapist and I set a goal to have it done by next week (ish), so tonight I “drafted” the page. And whereas I was initially terrified to sit down and “write something, write anything,” it went fine and wasn’t nearly as terrifying as I imagined it would be. I mean, it was just putting my honest thoughts on the page, and that’s something I do every day. Plus, my therapist and I have done a lot of digging around WHY this is such a big damn deal for me, and as I heard Shakti Gawain* say tonight (and I’m paraphrasing), “When we really look at the root of our fears and acknowledge them, they begin to dissolve.”

*Shakti Gawain was the author of Creative Visualization. She passed away this last week.

4. I became famous

Well, sort of. Recently while I was on a travel writing trip in Tennessee, my friend and fellow journalist Tom Wilmer interviewed me about swing dancing for his podcast, Journeys of Discovery, on NPR. Y’all, I was totally nervous. I’m so used to ASKING questions, not ANSWERING them. But Tom was super, like “this is no big deal,” and put me at ease. Later, Tom combined my interview with another interview he did about belly dancing, and the show went live tonight. Here’s a link to the entire thing. It’s about thirty minutes long, and my part starts at 13:55. Personally, I’m thrilled with how it turned out. Thanks, Tom!

Be sure to check out some of Tom’s other interviews. He gets to meet the coolest people and does a fabulous job sharing their stories with the world.

5. I cleaned my room

While listening to the podcast, I dusted my room. Woowho. Now I won’t have to do that again for another six months.

[One final shout-out to Tom for taking the picture of me at the top of tonight’s blog. It’s from our trip to Tennessee and was taken at Fall Creek Falls State Park.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"When you’re authentic, your authenticity is enough. You don’t need to compare."

about going to therapy (blog #15)

This evening I went for walk and listened to a segment on NPR called The Secret History of Thoughts. The program focused on weird or dark thoughts that people have (like “I’m a loser” or “I should kill myself” or “I should kill my wife”) and whether those thoughts are normal or not. Fascinating, but the part that caught my attention was when one of the reporters said something like, “If I were going to see a therapist—not that I need to—” and then continued.

And it kind of pissed me off, and here’s why.

Since starting therapy a little over three years ago, I’ve been pretty open about it. Granted, until this blog, it’s not something I’ve posted about on Facebook—like, Hey everyone, I cried in therapy today!—but all my family and plenty of my friends know. In fact, they’re probably sick of hearing me say, “My therapist says” because I say it A LOT, to the point that even I think, Good God, Marcus, stop talking about your fucking therapist.

Not that I actually stop.

But the point is that therapy hasn’t been something I’m ashamed of. It’s actually something I’m proud of because it’s helped me so much. And whereas most of my family and friends are quite supportive, and although there are some exceptions to what I’m about to say, the feeling I get from most people who hear about my seeing a therapist is like, “I’m sorry your life sucks so bad that you have to do that.” And behind that feeling there’s another one that goes, “I’m glad I’m not as fucked up as you are.”

Now let me be clear—I’m not a mind reader. I don’t really know a hundred percent what people are feeling. But I’ve had a number of friends tell me that they thought they needed to see a therapist because they’re dating a serial cheater, or because all their friends are users, or because they got drunk and started crying in the backseat of an Uber. But they don’t go. One friend told me straight up he knew he should see a therapist, but he couldn’t go because people would think he’s crazy.

Sadly, I don’t think my friend’s alone in his perception. I think it’s why the NPR reporter qualified her statement about “if I needed to see a therapist” by saying “not that I need to,” like, “not that I’m crazy.” (By the way, my therapist says everyone is bat-shit crazy; some of us just hide it better than others.)

To be fair, I think there’s a big misperception about what therapy is. And all I can speak about is my experience with one particular therapist who approaches therapy in one particular way. I’m also very aware that just like medical doctors, dance instructors, and prostitutes, not all therapists are created equal. And a lot of it comes down to whether or not your therapist and you are a good match for each other. All that being said, it’s not lying on a couch and talking for an hour while someone else nods her head and takes notes on a scratchpad. It’s also not taking LSD, which I just read was Gloria Vanderbilt’s experience when she saw a therapist. (Apparently that used to be a thing.)

Honestly, I used to think that I didn’t need a therapist too. Knowing what I know now, it would have been helpful a LONG time ago. But I ended up in a relationship that was a big mess, and somehow was lucky enough to notice something, and here’s what it was. My grandpa always took care of my grandma, who was mentally ill. My dad has always taken care of my mom, who is mentally ill. And I was starting to take care of someone who was, quite possibly, mentally ill. So really, I was curious if I was repeating a family pattern, if I was attracted to someone largely because they felt—familiar. (Spoiler alert—the answer was yes.) On top of being curious, I was fucking miserable (because there were a lot of other issues in addition to any that related to my family history), which was a big motivator. So I made an appointment.

Before I went to therapy that first time, a friend of mine sent me a 22-minute YouTube video about psychotherapy that I can’t recommend enough. It features two psychoanalysts talking about their profession. One of the things the guy in the video says is that we all have a basic understanding of our emotions, and that’s like having a high school diploma, which is fine. You can get by with that. But going to therapy, he says, is like going to college. It’s a way to better understand your emotions, and therefore better understand yourself.

For the last three years, almost every time I have a therapy appointment, I’m excited to go. I’m almost always in a better mood when I leave than I was when I got there. It’s an hour totally about me and my well-being, I always feel listened to and supported, and I never feel judged for anything. And in the last three years, my relationships have improved, there’s way less drama in my life, and I treat myself better. I don’t mean to sound like an infomercial, but who wouldn’t want all those benefits? Who wouldn’t want to spend an hour with someone who tells you, “You’ve got to stop using Tinder because the quality of guys you’re meeting is ZERO POINT FUCKING SHIT”?

To be fair, there have been times when therapy has been really difficult. I’ve had some tough confrontations with people that I love, and I’ve seen more than one long-time friendship come to an end. (My therapist told me that at one point during her own therapy, her therapist was her only friend.) But despite all the changes, I’ve always felt like there was someone there to help me. I’ve never felt completely alone.

Caroline Myss, a spiritual teacher who’s one of my favorites, says that truth and change go hand in hand, that the reason we fear the truth, that we don’t want to admit to ourselves that our partners are cheating or that a loved one is doing drugs, is that we are afraid of change. She says you just can’t have the truth and not have change. So inevitably we end up running from the truth or any place we might find it. Change is just too scary.

So I get why people stay in bad relationships and don’t do anything about it. I get why it takes being fucking miserable, maybe hitting rock bottom, before you’re willing to go to therapy, or see a medical doctor about that lump in your breast, or go to twelve-step program. It’s probably less about what other people think, and more about the fact that it takes a lot of courage to face the truth and the change that comes with it. That’s a hard thing to do. I won’t lie and tell you it’s not. But I believe it’s worth it, and I believe we’re all courageous, and I believe that no one is alone.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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