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)

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No one dances completely alone.

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On the End of Innocence (Blog #881)

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Today I saw both my therapist and my acupuncturist, but not at the same time, so let’s talk about my acupuncturist first. (Here we go.) She mainly worked on my neck and shoulders, since those are my chief complaints. Like the last time I saw her, she stuck needles in me (it’s kind of her thing), then stuck (sucked) cups to my skin to help release tight fascia. This last process, called cupping, is one I continue to be fascinated by. Supposedly the spots the turn the darkest are the ones that need the most help/are getting the most benefit from the treatment. Anyway, check out the purple spots on either side of my neck in the photo below. I look like I’ve got two serious hickeys.

If only I were so lucky.

Here’s a close-up (Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close-up), of one of the purple spots. Yowza. Thankfully, none of the bruises hurt.

Honestly, I don’t know how much acupuncture and cupping are helping me. Neither thing is a miracle. That being said, most things aren’t, and I do think at least one if not both of the treatments are beneficial. That is, my shoulder has been better since my last treatment, and my neck has felt “looser” today. Even if this weren’t the case, I see my acupuncturist as another member of my healing team (it takes a village), not someone who has ALL the answers, but someone who has a unique set of skills and a certain knowledge base (that I don’t have). Today I asked my acupuncturist about a long-standing, off-and-on problems I’ve had for the last few years (body odor), and although I thought I’d “tried everything,” she recommended something new. So, as my therapist is fond of saying, I’m giving it a whirl.

Speaking of my therapist, today we talked about, among other things, business and negotiation. I told her I was bothered because I recently bought some supplies at a salvage store and felt sort-of taken advantage of. I’ll explain. The supplies I wanted weren’t marked with a price, and the salesman said, “I won’t charge you much.” Then he (we) walked all the way back to the front desk with the stuff in hand, and he finally quoted me a price. “Just x bucks,” he said. Well, it was more than I was expecting, but just by ten dollars, so I didn’t say anything. At the same time, my intuition absolutely knew he was pulling an old okie-doke on me. But I thought, Hell, I want this stuff. So I paid it.

Later I did some research, and I don’t think I got robbed or anything. Actually, it was an okay deal. Now, a GOOD deal (for both of us) would have been ten dollars cheaper. A GREAT deal (for me) would have been fifteen dollars cheaper. My therapist said, “It wasn’t about the money. What bothered you is that you didn’t say anything–like, ‘How about ten dollars less?'”

“I didn’t know that was an option,” I said. “I guess I was caught off guard.”

My therapist said she’s never a fan of the hard sell. “But I’m also not a fan of the quick sale,” she said, “and the fact that the guy rushed you through the process was a red flag.”

The advice my therapist offered to me (and that I’m offering to you) was to take a minute to center myself before any business interaction. Recently I had a business meeting in which I wanted something specific and was lucky enough to meet with my therapist first. She said, “I know you want this, but you don’t NEED it because you have LOTS of options. So go into this DETACHED.” Then we figured out what I was willing to accept and what I was not willing to accept. Anyway, today she said I could do this on my own before I go into any store or sit down to talk business with anyone. Had I done this before RUSHING into the salvage store, I would have known–This is how much I want to spend, and if it’s more than that, I’m willing to ask for less or simply walk away.

Because (I’m learning), you can always walk away. You’re never OBLIGATED to buy anything.

Even something you want.

My therapist said that for the cheap cost of ten bucks, I learned a pretty important lesson–to go into things with my eyes wide open, ready for anything. “I’ve known a lot of people who have learned that lesson but with two or three extra zeros attached to it,” she said. Yesterday I spoke about the stories we tell ourselves, and this is another example of how you can use your words to shape your reality. What I mean is that rather than beating myself up for not being more on my toes, I’m telling myself this is a chance for me to learn something that may (will) come in handy down the road. Several years ago I dated a MASTER manipulator, liar, and cheater, and you better bet that experience has not gone to waste on me. I can’t tell you the number of times since that I’ve been attracted to someone and then–upon observing their behavior–thought, Wait a damn minute. I’ve seen this before. Bye.

Today I finished reading Sheldon B. Kopp’s An End to Innocence, which is about how growing up and being responsible for yourself means just that. That is, the end of innocence is the death of your illusions and fairy tales, your childlike notions and wishes that anyone (your parents, a lover, a spouse, a great uncle, a doctor, a god, or the lottery) will take care of you. It’s the death of the idea that life is fair, good things happen to good people, and anything on the fucking planet makes sense. And whereas I’d debate the use of the word innocence (I’d prefer “the end of naivety” because I associate innocence with pureness of heart or the lack of guilt), I agree with the overall idea. Suck it up, Nancy. Life isn’t for sissies. That being said, I consider myself lucky because I do have a team, people who help me out. But this is the deal, the part that sucks. They don’t–can’t–heal for me. They can’t speak up for me. That’s my job.

That’s your job for you.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Boundaries aren’t something you knock out of the park every time.

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On Being Born Again (Blog #728)

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This time two years ago, I was two days away from officially starting this blog. I’d gotten the idea for it a week or so before, but on March 30, 2017, I actually bit the bullet and bought the domain. My first post was the next day, March 31, 2017, although the site didn’t go live until the first week in April. Anyway, this means I’m three posts (including this one) away from two full years of daily blogging. I’ve been reflecting on this a lot lately; I just can’t get over it. On one hand, two years seems like forever. On the other, it seems like the blink of an eye, as if I’d only written–I don’t know–a dozen posts rather than sixty dozen.

My therapist told me recently that she thought this blog was as much if not more responsible for my growth as therapy has been. I said, “The blog has been like sitting down to talk to a friend and then realizing that friend is me. It’s been my way back to myself.” Still, I’m glad I’ve had and continue to have both therapy and this blog. I’m sure just one would have been beneficial. Before this blog, therapy was beneficial. But with this blog–wow–it’s been even more so. Regardless of how long this project goes on, I’m sold on the idea of working through your thoughts and emotions. Whether with one person or the entire internet, I’m sold on the idea of honestly sharing your story.

This is me, warts and all.

The book I mentioned yesterday that my therapist recommended (by Sheldon B. Kopp) says the truth does NOT set you free. That is, facts by themselves–my boyfriend’s a cheater, my husband’s a louse, my wife is a drunk–don’t change anything. This is why, the author contends, the greatest teachers use stories and parables to teach rather than simply saying, “Your best friend’s an asshole, and you should dump them.” Because people need to be able to work things out for themselves. Said another way, if you’re unhappy for some reason, it’s not simply that a particular situation in your life needs to change; it’s that YOU do. This, of course, takes time. When I broke up with my ex, there were plenty of people who could have rightly said, “We TOLD you he was a grade-A prick.” But I didn’t need to be told the truth; I needed to live it. THAT’S what sets you free, when truth goes from something that lives between your ears to something that lives within your heart. That’s what’s transforming.

Since I started therapy five years ago, my therapist says I’m a changed man. She says the way I walk, the way I carry myself, is different. Of course, I’ve never videotaped myself walking, so I can’t say. But I do know I feel different–better, lighter, happier, more confident, less afraid, more at-home in my own skin. The list could go on. And whereas I can’t say exactly when all of this happened, I just know it has. Not that I’m always up and never down. That’s not how things work on this planet. I experience the full range of my emotions. Indeed, I feel anger and rage more than I ever have. But I also feel joy more than I ever have. That’s one of the things I’ve learned in the last five years–when you shove down a “bad” emotion, you likewise depress a “good” one. The shadow is tied to the light.

As I come to the close of two years of blogging, I’m thinking about what will be next. And whereas I plan to continue my daily online writing habit, I know it won’t last forever. By my own admission, I’m quite the hard ass about this ever day, every damn day thing, and it’s exhausting. Rewarding, but exhausting, and this body and soul can only take so much. Anyway, I’m slowly working my way around to the idea that it’s not the number (728 blogs!) that matters. It’s not the number of words, the number of readers, or the number of shares. I’ve made these things important in my head before (and probably will again), but fuck all that. No, it’s what’s happened on the inside that’s important. It’s the transformation, that thing that happens slowly, can’t be quantified, and is rarely praised by others; that morphing from one thing to another more beautiful, more authentic, and more true thing; that being born again that matters.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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 Beautiful isn’t something that comes in a particular package. Beautiful is simply being yourself.

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This Sucks, I know (Blog #727)

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Recently my therapist recommended the book If You Meet the Buddha on the Road, Kill Him!–The Pilgrimage of Psychotherapy Patients by Sheldon B. Kopp. I started it last night and read more this afternoon and evening. And whereas I’m only about a third of the way through (55 pages), I adore it. Through the use of personal stories, metaphors, and myth, Kopp perfectly describes the journey of therapy, a journey he says often begins because a person is struggling or in pain and wants something more, something better. He relates this to the hero’s journey of all time. It’s fabulous. But beware, he says, “Everything good is costly, and the development of your personality is one of the most costly of all things. It will cost you your innocence, your illusions, your certainty.”

I know what you must be thinking–Where do I sign up?

That final sentence–it will cost you your innocence, your illusions, your certainty–was the last thing I read before falling asleep early this morning, and it’s been on my mind since I woke up. I think because it’s true. You go to therapy wanting someone else to take care of you, but you find out you have to take care of yourself. You go to therapy wanting to feel better, but also wanting your life and relationships to stay the same. (This isn’t possible.) You go to therapy wanting answers, but end up with more questions. Because nothing in life is for-sure.

This sucks, I know.

In terms of illusions, Kopp says that at some point patients (pilgrims, seekers) must give up the idea that they’re special. This is a tough one for me. Maybe for anyone in America, since we’re so focused on the individual and-the-aptly named social ME-dia is all about ME, ME, ME. But as a specific personal example, once when I was telling my therapist about a breakup, she said part of the problem I had in that relationship was that I thought I was special. That is, I saw that my ex lied to a number of people in his life, but I didn’t think he would lie TO ME. (He did.) Because I’m different somehow. Because no one else understood or cared for him like I did. Whatever. It was all bullshit. Liars lie to everyone. Even me. Even you.

This sucks, I know.

Another illusion Kopp says we must give up is the idea that we’re going to live forever. Said another way, we must accept the fact that we’re going to die. Because nothing here is permanent–not your age, not your beauty. He uses the therapy hour as a template for impermanence. Mine lasts fifty minutes, but the point is the same. For an agreed-upon amount of time, my therapist and I sit down and discuss what-the-hell-ever. Then the alarm goes off, and that’s pretty much it. Maybe we drag it out a little, but more often than not, I leave with items still on my list of things to talk about. Time’s up. We did the best we could. All good things must come to an end.

This used to really bother me, when my therapist and I weren’t able to talk about everything on my list. Now I know anything can wait. There will be other sessions. And even if they’re aren’t–because at some point our relationship will end–I know I have myself. That’s another point that Kopp makes, that ultimately we are our own teachers. Other people can help us, but nobody else can really DO anything FOR another person. That is, I can take your physical trash out to the curb, but I can’t take your mental trash out. I can show you how I cha-cha, but not how you should. Because they’re your feet, your hips, and they don’t move like mine. So each of us is responsible for himself/herself/themselves.

Pronouns are so confusing these days.

But back to not finishing things on the list and all things coming to an end. I could start crying right now if I thought I’d never see my therapist again. Not because I NEED her, but because she’s taught me that I don’t, that–honestly–I don’t need anybody. I don’t mean that to sound cold. I love you, and I enjoy our time together, just like I do with my therapist. But I know I’ll be OKAY if we never talk again because I have myself to come back to. That’s why I think I’ll cry after my last session with my therapist, whenever that is. Because I’m grateful for the work we’ve done together. I’ll be sad, sure, just like I’ll be sad when I write my last blog post. Yes, one day it will be time’s up for this project. One day it will be time’s up for EVERYTHING in life–our lovers, our health, our waistlines.

This sucks, I know.

This afternoon my dad and I took my aunt to see her dermatologist. As I read my book in the waiting room, Dad asked about the title. And whereas I haven’t gotten to that chapter in the book, I told him I think it means that if you think anyone else, including your therapist, is your savior (if you see the Buddha on the road), kill him. Said less violently, take him/her/them off the pedestal you’ve put them on. Because only you can save you. (The Buddha isn’t OUT THERE, he’s IN HERE.) Only you can take out your mental garbage, only you can clean up the relationships in your life, and only you can do anything about anything else that’s bothering you. This is YOUR life, and this is YOUR journey. So you have to take responsibility for it. You have to grow up.

This sucks, I know.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Sure, people change, but love doesn't."