It’s SNOT the Holiday That Matters (Blog #270)

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Last night I stayed up until 1:30 in the morning working on the puzzle my family started yesterday. It’s the American flag made out of smaller images, and I finished the blue section. Since I’ve been feeling like crap, it was a nice distraction. This morning I may have experienced a Christmas miracle–I woke up feeling better. Not over the moon, but certainly better. I’m attributing this to a new jar of kimchi I got yesterday, only the fourth I’ve bought this week. As I understand it, kimchi can contain bacteria to help fight sinus infections, but it depends on the brand and how far along it is in the fermentation process. Since most companies don’t print the manufactured date on the jar, it’s kind of a crap shoot.

Anyway, regardless of whether it’s that, all the vitamins I’m taking, or the six-pound baby Jesus, I’m not coughing or congested today. My allergies are still acting up, and I’m paranoid because my snot is green, but I just read that green snot can actually be a sign that your white blood cells are hard at working fighting an infection. (Go get ’em, guys.) Mostly I’m trying to not overthink this but rather be grateful that for the first time in a week I’m experiencing a modicum of relief.

Obviously, today is Christmas. For the last week or two, I’ve been thinking that I’d write an essay about my experience with Christmas, about how as a child I was so meticulous about putting up lights and decorating that I really shouldn’t have had to announce my sexuality all those years later, and about how my family stopped celebrating Christmas when I was a teenager because of its pagan origins (winter solstice rituals, etc.). Anyway, at some point I’d like to process all that, but I haven’t had the energy for it lately, nor do I today. Maybe later. Still, I will say that at this point in my life, I don’t take a strong position on the celebration of holidays. I used to really enjoy them and even decorated my house a couple years ago for Christmas, but when you give up all your traditions for a decade or two, it’s hard to go back to them, especially when your family doesn’t recognize them.

To be clear, I’m not making an argument for or against anything. I understand why people celebrate Christmas, celebrate something else, or don’t celebrate anything at all. Some years I miss the magic of this season. There are years when I see families getting together, eating big meals, and exchanging gifts, and it’s just another day for me. That can be lonely. At the same time, it’s easier on my wallet. (For every down there’s an up.) But this year, even though there’s not a tree with a bunch of gifts underneath it, my family is here. We spent the day finishing the puzzle, my mom has been playing and laughing with my nephews, and now my sister and brother-in-law are getting ready to grill burgers. All things considered, it’s been a wonderful day.

The main reason my sister and her family came to visit was to see my mom before she has her mastectomy next month. Since the boys are out of school for the holidays, this was clearly a good time to do that. But I for one am glad it worked out the way it did, that whether for a holiday, an illness, or a puzzle, we’ve made a point to come together. Currently I’m sitting in a chair, and my nephews are crawling all over me. The older one took away my laptop for a while, and I just got it back and he’s swinging a sword in front of my face. (It’s actually a piece of cardboard, but he’s pretending it’s a sword.) Now it’s time for dinner, so I’m gonna go. Whatever you’re doing today, I hope it’s a good day. Mostly, I hope you know that it’s not the holiday that matters, but those with whom you spend it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It's the holes or the spaces in our lives that give us room to breathe and room to rest in, room to contain both good and bad days, and--when the time is right--room for something else to come along.

"

What I’m Gaining (Blog #268)

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It’s two days before Christmas, and my sister, brother-in-law, and their two boys are on their way here from New Mexico. They’re bringing their own food because they’re healthy eaters. They actually have a food cooler that plugs into their car’s cigarette lighter. Mom’s been cleaning out our refrigerator, throwing away old deli meat and unused packets of hot sauce from Taco Bell, clearing every square inch she can in order to make room for my sister’s unhomogenized grass-fed milk and organic tortillas. The whole affair has my dad in a tizzy, a little too much change too fast. “Don’t throw that jar of pickled beans away, Judy!” And it’s only going to get better. This time tomorrow the boys will be running around underfoot, scattering Crayons and Legos all over the kitchen table and living room floor. Hell, I’ll probably find some floating in the toilet. It’s going to be glorious mess.

But don’t worry, I’m sure there’s some whiskey here somewhere.

My sinus infection/cold continues to persist. Ever the dramatic, I’ve been thinking about writing my own eulogy and preparing myself for the afterlife. I mean, if this were the Middle Ages, I’d already be a senior citizen, so I think I can say I’ve had a good run here. Yesterday I read that some people have cured sinus problems by sniffing probiotic powder. So last night I picked up a bottle of probiotic capsules from my aunt then went to The Vitamin Shoppe to pick up a different brand, just in case. But before I went into the store, I emptied the contents of a single probiotic capsule onto a sheet of paper and snorted the powder up my nose like a cocaine addict. Honestly, it wasn’t the smoothest experience. The powder kind of clumped around my nostrils. Maybe it would have gone better if I’d put the powder on a mirror and chopped it up with a credit card.

I can’t believe I’m telling this story. A thirty-seven-year-old man snorting probiotic powder in a parking lot. What would I have said if a cop had seen me? I swear, officer, it’s acidophilus!

Walking into The Vitamin Shoppe, I had so much white powder on my face it looked like I’d been eating a funnel cake with both hands tied behind my back. Paranoid, I wiped my face with my shirt, got what I needed, and got out. Chill out, Marcus, no one thinks you’re a drug user. As of this moment, I’ve tried the treatment a few times, and I can’t tell that it’s making a difference one way or the other. Maybe it’s not supposed to be an instant cure, or maybe it’s just more internet crap. Either way, I’m still sick, still coughing up junk, still as frustrated as ever.

I’ve been slowing working my way through the book I have about holistic sinus health. Last night I read the section of vitamins and minerals, and apparently I’m not taking enough to kick an infection. The book says it takes 15 supplements to do the job, not 12. But then it also says an air filter, a negative ion particle generator, a humidifier, and the Archangel Gabriel would be nice. (I made up that last part.) Regardless, there are million helpful hints, a veritable shotgun approach of ideas. And whereas I appreciate all the thorough suggestions, I can only afford so many of them. But for crying out loud, it’s not like I’m not trying over here. Seriously–mad props to this infection for being such an indestructible bastard.

Mad props means extreme support or high praise, Mom.

Now it’s three in the afternoon, and I’m considering cleaning up and running some errands when this blog is done. I need a few food items (and maybe more supplements!) and have no desire to brave the streets and stores tomorrow. Today will be bad enough, but it is what it is.

Last night as I was sniffing probiotics up my nose, I laughed at how crazy it was. At the same time, I realized that I actually enjoy this whole process of experimentation. Let me be clear, I want this thing to go away. But there’s part of my personality that enjoys digging my heels in, trying one more thing, continuing to look for an answer long after many people would have quit. To me this feels like an act of self-care, of not giving up on myself and the idea of something better. At the very least I’m gaining patience, endurance, and compassion, three things I’m finding to be hard to come by, high-priced, and, most importantly, worth whatever you have to go through to get them.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We're allowed to relabel and remake ourselves.

"

Lord Voldemort, Zac Efron, and My Fingernail (Blog #266)

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Welcome to my daily health report. Things don’t look good today; they’re definitely worse than yesterday. I’ve been up for about an hour, and so far I’ve coughed up, blown out, or otherwise ejected enough snot from my body to fill a mason jar. It’s fun to talk about, I know. I’m assuming this is a cold or sinus infection. If it is a sinus infection, it’s especially frustrating, since I thought I was making serious headway in that department. (Get it–headway?) Regardless, I’m think I’m going to start referring to this crud as Lord Voldemort, since it’s most certainly of the dark lord and is apparently going to take a wizard to stop it.

Expecto mucoso!

Last night my friend Bonnie and I went to the opening night of The Greatest Showman, the new Hugh Jackman and Zac Efron (Zac Efron!) movie about PT Barnum. Thinking it would be sold out, we snagged tickets yesterday afternoon and showed up early. Well, apparently everyone was watching Star Wars, since the only people in our theater were me, Bonnie, two little boys and their mother, and a dozen high school cheerleaders. A musical, the film is beautifully shot, sung, and choreographed and tells the story of how PT Barnum started his famous circus and consequently provided a home for society’s outcasts–little people, bearded ladies, etc. Based on the previews, I was really expecting–and wanting–to cry, but I didn’t. This, I think, had to do with the writing–I never fully identified or cared about any of the main characters. Still, it was the perfect way to get out of the house and see Zac Efron on the big screen. As one of the high school girls proclaimed when the audio suddenly got quiet, “God, he’s pretty!”

I hollered back–“Right?”

Currently I’m in a mad dash to get this blog done. I’m going out with a friend this evening, and I expect it to take every bit of energy I possess. That’s fine, since I can take it easy this weekend, but I don’t want to get home tonight and have any of my “have tos” undone. So I need to finish blogging, practice chi kung, and definitely take a shower–I’m sure my friend would appreciate that.

Every day that I don’t feel well, I tell myself I’m going to take it easy and write a short blog–fuck writing–but I haven’t figured out how to do that yet. But now I’m under 500 words and hoping this will be the last paragraph, so maybe I’m making progress. Earlier I sliced into my fingernail with a knife while cutting a sweet potato. My fingernail is only a couple millimeters thick, but it stopped me from slicing into my finger. Perhaps this is what hope is, something little that makes a big difference, something that says tomorrow will be different than today, something that says, “That was a close call, but you’re going to be just fine.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Take your challenges and turn them into the source of your strengths.

"

Looking at the Next Hundred Days (Blog #265)

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I don’t know what’s wrong with me. As I’ve said before, I’m not a doctor. Still, that doesn’t keep me from guessing. Last night my body temperature was up and down, so I thought I might have the flu. But this morning I stuck a thermometer in my mouth, and I definitely don’t have a fever. Plus, I feel bad, but I don’t feel THAT bad. Currently I’m trying to figure out if I feel jittery because of whatever this is or because of the medication I’m taking. The more I think about it, the more I get overwhelmed.

Let’s talk about something else, shall we?

A couple days ago the phrase “stop scrolling” came up while blogging, and I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. Every time I pick up my phone and look at social media, it’s all I can hear. Stop scrolling. So whereas I’ve still been checking my phone for notifications, I haven’t been mindlessly scrolling, scrolling, scrolling. At the most, I’ve checked out the top four or five posts in my news feed, but that’s it. Part of me thinks, What if I’m missing out on something? But another part of me thinks, Wasn’t my life just fine before Facebook?

So far, I like “less news feed” better. I can’t think of a single recent post that’s given me a bad day, yet I often walk away from social media feeling slightly heavy, worse than I did before. I assume this is cumulative effect, a little bad news here, a little bad news there, a little comparing myself to others everywhere. Lately signing into Facebook or Instagram has felt like walking into a birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese–music, videos, games, noises everywhere, everyone running around clamoring for attention. Look at me! Look at my cat! I have a sinus infection! I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with this or that I haven’t fully participated in every bit of it for a long, long time–I’m just saying–it’s a lot to take in day after day after day.

I’ve heard that the average person today processes more information in a week than our ancestors did in a lifetime. Or something like that–I really don’t know what the statistic was. But the point is, we’re on information overload, and our brains and bodies simply weren’t meant to handle it all. Maybe that’s why I’ve been so sick lately–not because I’ve been on Facebook too much, but because my body isn’t able to handle all the current stressors in my life. Clearly, it isn’t. As someone who likes to push, push, push, I don’t like this feedback, but I am trying to listen to it by putting down my phone, taking it easier during the day, sleeping more at night.

Today’s blog is number 265. That’s 265 days in a row of writing, notable because my goal is a year, and that leaves me with 100 days to go. Part of me feels like giving it up even today, like, What am I really doing here? On days that I don’t feel well, it’s especially difficult to imagine that this project is going anywhere or benefiting anyone other than my credit card company. Another part of me is really proud of myself for sticking this out regardless of how it’s received. That part of me thinks that 100 days is a piece of cake, the homestretch, the place where the magic will happen.

In truth, I know the magic has already happened. This project has changed me for the better. Me and My Therapist is the place I’ve found myself over and over again, the place I’ve learned to listen to the still, small voice inside me. (Incidentally, listening to that voice is difficult to do while scrolling.) Honestly, this blog is like home for me, the place I get to be myself. This is the place where I laugh at my own jokes, cry on the keyboard, and get honest. Sometimes that honesty looks like setting boundaries, expressing gratitude, or talking about what my therapist said recently. Other times that honestly looks like saying, “I feel like crap and am tired of trying so hard.” Either way, what you see here is real, at least as real as I know how to be.

This is all I can promise for the next hundred days. I can’t promise I’ll feel better or worse than I do in this moment, I can’t promise whether or not I’ll stick to my commitment to spend less time on social media, and I can’t promise I’ll be consistently funny or profound in my writing. But I can promise honesty about what’s going on inside. For anyone who’s interested, that’s one thing I can do.

And that’s the best blog ending I have at the moment–honestly.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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One day a change will come.

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Doing What I Can (Blog #264)

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Last night I started getting sick again. I can’t tell you how exhausting this is. In bed before midnight, I spent most the night sweating. I’m not sweating now, so Dad said it could have been the heater in the waterbed “acting up.” I plan to have a stern talking to it later on. Anyway, I’ve spent most the day generally worn out, coughing up junk, and nursing a mildly sore throat. I keep telling myself it could be worse. It could be worse, Marcus. It could be worse.

Could it, Also Marcus. Could it really?

Thinking this could be sinus related (since everything with me is sinus related), I ventured out of the house earlier to the Asian food market in search of more Kimchi to swab in my nostrils. I ran out of Kimchi last week and had gotten some from Walmart, but Dad says it’s not the same thing. (I’m not sure how he knows this.) Y’all, the Asian food market has a giant nativity scene set up right by the entrance. This is something I’ve never seen before–the virgin birth inside a local grocery store. Personally, I was disappointed that the baby Jesus wasn’t actually Asian, but talk about one-stop shopping–soy sauce, salvation for the world, and twenty-pound bags of rice all on the same aisle.

I always feel slightly conspicuous when I shop at the Asian food market, like I don’t really belong there because I’m white. Today the woman at the checkout station was wearing rubber gloves as if she were a dentist or surgeon, someone with a medical degree. If I were to ask her about the gloves, I’m sure she’d say they were a sanitary measure, but I thought, You’re not fooling anyone, lady. You’re no doctor. Well, apparently I’m no doctor either, since when the total came to $8.36, I only handed the lady $8.00. (I could have sworn it was $9.00, but hey–my brain is full of snot.) Then the language barrier thing happened, her asking for 36 cents to complete the sale, and me thinking she just wanted the change to make her life easier, like she was gonna give me a dollar back.

“But I don’t HAVE 36 cents,” I said.

She kept pointing at the screen where the total was, then, almost as an afterthought, showed me the one five and three one-dollar bills I’d handed her. Well crap, I said to myself. Convinced she thought I was a stupid American, I apologized as I handed her another dollar, which she gladly took with her rubber-glove-covered hand. I was so embarrassed, I couldn’t get out of the store fast enough. I didn’t even slow down to tell Mary and Joseph how neat and tidy I thought the manger was. Maybe next time I see them I can say, “You’ve really cleaned this place up. It’s just, well, immaculate.”

When I got home and did the kimchi treatment, Dad suggested that I take a Mucinex, something I haven’t tried since this whole sinus disaster started a couple months ago. I mean, it’s not that I haven’t considered it, but when I used Mucinex a year ago, it made my heart race. Of course, that was the extra strength and this was the regular strength, so I ended up saying, “What the hell” and popping the pill. As the Mucinex commercial says, “Let’s end this.”

Now it’s been two hours, and I’m ready to go back to bed. Since I have a dance lesson to teach later, that’s probably not going to happen, but maybe that means I’ll sleep even better tonight. When I woke up sick today, I really wanted to get frustrated and throw a tantrum. You’ve got to be freaking kidding me. This again? But I’m really trying to be more patient than that. More than anything else, I’m trying to be more compassionate than that, to realize that my body is obviously having a hard time here. I guess this is how life goes–some days you wake up well, some days you wake up sick. Hell, some days you walk through a nativity scene in an Asian food market, so let’s stop pretending anything makes sense on this planet, simply take things a day at a time, and do what we can with the day we’ve been given.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"It's never a minor thing to take better care of yourself."

Slow Down, Sweetheart (Blog #253)

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Currently I’m waiting for my daily selfie to load. My internet is slow, slow, slow. Last night I had a dream that I’d returned to school, only this time for a visit. After parking, I walked into a classroom. My best friend from high school was there, as was a teacher I didn’t care for. As I walked out of the room, I passed a kid who used to beat me up, stepped over a straight girl who fell in love with me a while back. (Bye, Felicia.) Wanting to go to the office, I ended up outside. There was another teacher I didn’t like far away, and a sort of picnic going on in the courtyard. I woke up when I got to the band. (There was a band.) The dream was uncomfortable because the entire time it felt as if I was walking through mud. Like my present internet speed, I was moving in slow motion. (Slow motion for me.)

I can’t tell you how frustrating it was.

Now it’s three-thirty in the afternoon, and I’m rushing, trying to get through this blog so I can meet my family for my lunch, their dinner. (This happens a lot when you live with senior citizens.) For the last twelve weeks Mom has been getting chemotherapy every Friday, and they always go out to eat afterwards. I’ve only met them a couple times, but today is kind of a big deal, since it’s Mom’s LAST chemotherapy. I mean, she gets to ring a bell! (Apparently it’s a thing.) Anyway, I technically just at breakfast, but I want to celebrate this milestone with my mama. Come on, creativity, come on.

Yesterday I wasn’t in the best mood. If nothing else is going on, this is usually a pretty good indication that I’m not feeling well. True to form, I did have more drainage than normal yesterday, and some of it was green-ish. (It’s gross, I know, but this is the place where I get to be honest.) Anyway, I stepped up the antihistamines, vitamins, and teas, and did another kimchi treatment last night. Y’all, I feel so much better today–less drainage, less color. Again, it’s not a miracle, but it’s close enough. The biggest improvement is that I woke up on the right side of the bed. I was dancing while making breakfast! Yesterday it was the blues, and today it’s Motown.

Things are looking up.

I’m still chewing on the dream I had last night, but my gut says it had it do with patience. In one sense, I know I’ve come a long way, slowly walked through the classroom of life and learned a lot of lessons. The bullies and fruitless relationships are behind me. Still, I’m not wherever it is I’m going (the office). As I said earlier, this is frustrating. In this sense, the dream isn’t a mystery. I constantly look ahead at where I’m not. Every day feels as if I’m not moving fast enough.

There’s a lot of magic around you.

Yesterday on Facebook my sister shared a song by Macklemore and Kesha. The song is called Good Old Days and says, “Some day soon your whole life’s gonna change–you’ll miss the magic of these good old days.” Honestly, I often forget to see the blessings of where I am because I want my life to change–I think it will be better, that I will be happier. I forget that there’s a lot of magic around me (a picnic with a band!), that I get to sleep in, let my body heal and find balance. Not everyone can do that. I forget that I can go out to eat with my parents, be close by while my mom is fighting cancer. Last night we both stayed up late and shared some egg rolls while watching our respective television shows. Who knows how many more times that will happen? So today I’m reminding myself that these truly are magic moments, moments not everyone gets to have, moments that even for me won’t last forever. Slow down, Marcus. Slow down, sweetheart. There’s a lot to enjoy here. And don’t worry, you’ll still get there–wherever that is.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

What Hope Says to Me (Blog #252)

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It’s three in the afternoon, and I’ve been overwhelmed since yesterday. Once I read that was the go-to emotion for Virgos–the feeling of overwhelm. Regardless, I know it’s mine. On the outside I can have things together, but on the inside, it’s like I’m trying to roll a boulder up a mountain, looking at the circumstances of my life like, Well, this is intimidating. For whatever reason, my allergies won’t calm down. It’s as if I have a leaky faucet–in my head. (Does anyone know a good plumber?) Last night I watched a YouTube video by a guy who once had a sinus infection for eight months, so I’m telling myself that 1) I’m not THAT bad off, and 2) I’m not alone. But that doesn’t really help. After all, a boulder on your shoulder is a boulder on your shoulder.

Yesterday I had to choose an insurance plan for next year. That was stressful. What if I picked the wrong one? Also, anything that has to do with money stresses me out, since I’m really not making any right now. This, of course, is mostly my choice. I guess on some level I’ve decided that what I’m learning and doing now are more important than spending the day, I don’t know, making Subway sandwiches and earning a few dollars. Still, I put a lot of pressure on myself. My therapist asked me recently, “How are yo doing with the whole ‘I’m a white man who needs to be productive and earning money constantly’ thing?”

“Yeah, about where I was before,” I said. “So there’s plenty of room for improvement, but look at it this way–that’s job security for you.”

I don’t suppose any one of these problems–allergies, money, what things may come–is that big of a deal in and of itself. Perhaps it’s like picking up a rock and putting it your pocket–one’s not a problem, but if decide to pick up more rocks and start a damn collection, they’re gonna weigh you down. However, now I’m writing, and although some days I think of this blog as a rock in my pocket, I do find that it helps take the weight off, get other things out of my pocket and on to the page. Also, I’m listening to Eva Cassidy, a woman whose voice never fails to make me believe that the world is a possible place to live in. Time is a healer–all hearts that break are put back together again.

Yesterday I got my hair cut–a lot. Honestly, I don’t love short hair in the winter, since I need all the help I can get staying warm. But I dyed my hair a few months ago, and it’s been rather dry and unmanageable lately. My friend and hairdresser, Bekah, said she always knows I’m about to call and schedule a haircut whenever I post a lot of pictures of me wearing a hat. And whereas I hate being so predictable, it is really nice to have people in your life who know you so well. Thinking about all my hair clumped together on Bekah’s floor, I’m reminded that things can change in an instant. One minute you’ve got this problem that’s been driving you crazy forever, and the next it’s being swept away with the flick of a wrist, tossed out with yesterday’s newspapers.

Perhaps this is what hope is, the belief that three months of long hair or even an eight-month sinus infection can quickly come to an end, the belief that your particular allergy can calm down and you’ll breathe easy again one day. To me hope says, “Empty your pockets. Let go of your boulder. Mountains are hard enough to climb without things that overwhelm and weigh you down. Let me overwhelm you instead, let me heal all that is broken inside you, let me so fill you with the belief that life is good that you can’t help but rise to the top.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Storms don’t define us, they refine us.

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The Mystery Inside the Circle (Blog #248)

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It’s just after midnight, and I’ve been cranky all day. I noticed it earlier while I was reading. The television was on, the kitchen sink was running, the microwave was beeping, and nothing would shut up. I just want it to be quiet. I just want to the world to be quiet. So I took a shower, shaved my face, and that helped a little–but only a little. At some point I realized my bad mood was simply the result of being ill. I really do feel better than I did a week ago, but my energy level is still shot, and I still have drainage. Then when I did a sinus rinse and saw some mucus, I thought, What if I still have an infection? Well, then I started to freak out. You know how one thought leads to another. What if it never goes away? What if this is the rest of my life? Why does the universe hate me?

I know this thinking is dramatic.

Probably the best thing I could do at this point would be go to bed. Like for a month, but at least until the morning. But again, I have this blog to write. I realize this blog is strictly my choice, so I hope it doesn’t appear that I’m nailing myself to a cross or anything. But I don’t mind saying that keeping your commitments and exercising personal willpower are difficult things to do when you’re not feeling your best. This is something I really struggle with whenever I’m under the weather–do I keep pushing, eating good meals, searching the internet for answers, or do I give up, grab a bowl of ice cream, and let nature take its course?

Currently I’m leaning toward the ice cream.

It seems that whenever I’m worried about one thing, I’m worried about everything. Perhaps this is seeing the world through shit-colored glasses. (Where did these come from?) But it seems that the hope I have for feeling better is somehow tied to the hope I have for being more self-sufficient, is somehow tied to the hope I have for having my own family one day. It’s like my body and all my hopes and dreams are tied together in a big knot, and if one thing goes down, we all go down together. Logically I know that my allergies (or whatever) have nothing to do with whether or not I’ll be living with my parents when I’m forty, but in this moment I can’t untie the knot.

Earlier I cried while watching an America’s Got Talent audition in which the comedian Drew Lynch got the Golden Buzzer and went straight to the next round. This is something I think I could do more of, crying. Having stuffed things down for so long, I know there’s a lot that would like to come to the surface. And whereas I’ve made a lot of progress in the area of expressing emotions, I know my tendency is to strengthen my defenses rather than soften them. On days like today, my muscles automatically tighten. I think, I can handle this. But part of me just wants to admit it–I’m tired of being strong, and I don’t have all the answers.

This afternoon I went for a two-hour walk and listened to Joseph Campbell. It really is the strangest thing walking the streets of your hometown. Today I went to the city park, and I remember being there as a child. There’s a spot by the woods where my sister ran into a barbed wire fence. There’s a house on the other side where I used to get my hair cut. That’s when I was blonde (naturally). On the way home I looked to my right and saw the back of the house where my grandmother used to live and thought, Why haven’t I seen that before? I know it’s been fifteen years since she’s been alive, twenty since I mowed her lawn, but I can still remember us standing there in her yard like it was yesterday–just like I can remember the barbed wire fence incident and my blonde hair or–more recently–where I was standing when my first nephew was born. It’s all mixed up together as if time didn’t exist.

My man Joseph Campbell says you can draw a circle around anything–a rock, an animal, a planet–and say, “What is it?” Granted, we have names and labels for everything in our physical world. You could say, “Duh, that’s a rock, and that’s Jupiter (a rock in the sky).” But the point is, when was the last time you looked at something you see every day and let it be what it truly is–a mystery? As I was leaving the park, a flock of geese took off from the water and flew right in front me in their trademark V. For a moment, I was totally stunned. How is it that I’m lucky enough to live in a universe where birds fly?

Tonight was not only the last full moon of the year, but it was also a super moon, which is when the moon is closet to the earth. Earlier I stepped outside and saw it moving behind the clouds, and it was like seeing those geese at the park, this absolute wonder flying through the heavens. But surely our lives are wonders too, these knots of emotions and memories that fall down one day and fly the next. Surely you could draw a circle around us, for we are as complicated and as beautiful as any planet. Better yet, I think, to draw a circle around yourself, to see yourself for the mystery that you are, and know that mysteries aren’t supposed to have all the answers.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Along the way you’ll find yourself, and that’s the main thing, the only thing there really is to find.

"

An Unbroken Chain (Blog #244)

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Currently it’s almost three in the morning, and I’d rather be reading. This afternoon I went for a walk, then started Turtles All the Way Down by John Green. It’s young adult fiction and just under three hundred pages, and I’m already two-thirds of the way through. Since I don’t get absolutely sucked into a book very often, I’d like nothing better than to curl up in this chair, immerse myself in story, and forget about the rest of the world until the last page has been turned. But, of course, I have this daily blog, so here I am–once again, world, it’s me–looking for meaning in the mundane, searching high and low for hope (come out, come out, wherever you are).

Honestly, I don’t know whose idea this was–trying to knock out a thousand-word blog every day for a year. A year–that’s been my goal for a while. I talked to my therapist about this recently and said that I didn’t know what I expected to happen after 365 days. Like, I don’t expect the sky to open up, for angels to descend with a bouquet of flowers, congratulations, and a check for a million dollars. Although that’d be nice–a parade would be nice. My therapist said, “Who knows? Once you hit a year, you may decide to keep going.”

Ugh, that sounds exhausting. But who knows?

Of course, writing every day for a year was my idea. But I don’t mind saying it’s not exactly easy pulling a thousand words and a life lesson out of my ass on days that, quite frankly, could easily be summed up like, “I went for a walk, I read a book.” Maybe another writer would make a day filled with those activities sound like a gripping adventure, but that’s not my style. Come on, waking up at three in the afternoon then taking a nap four hours later isn’t quite a-thrill-a-minute literature. And then I snored. And while I’m on the topic–why–why am I so tired anyway? I’m guess it could be the anti-histamine I took when I first woke up (which has been helpful), or maybe the fact that I was just sick for six weeks.

There’s an idea.

There’s nothing wrong with taking a damn nap.

I know that I have a tendency (just a teeny-weeny tendency) to underestimate what a big deal things are. Like, I think I can be sick for six weeks then reasonably expect my body to be able to run a marathon three days after it’s initiated recovery–instead of thinking, Wait a damn minute, my body has been through a lot lately. (And by lately I mean my entire life.) I don’t know if anyone else is like this, but I’m guessing I’m not alone here. We go, go, go and push, push, push then get frustrated when our bodies run out of gas. So I’m trying to remember–my body has been through a lot–I’ve been through a lot–there’s nothing wrong with taking a damn nap.

Another area where I tend to underestimate things is this blog. Like, most the time I don’t think it’s remarkable that I’ve sat down to write and lay myself bare on a daily basis for the last eight months. But today I heard a quote about forming habits by the philosopher and psychologist William James that said, “Never suffer an exception to occur till the new habit is securely rooted in your life,” and I realized that’s exactly what I’m doing here–not suffering one exception. Sick or well, tired or full of energy, I’m writing. I honestly don’t know why it’s so important to me, why I’m more committed to this than I have been to anything else in my entire life. I mean, I don’t even floss every day. But I do know that if I skip even one day of writing before I get to a year that I’ll lose a lot of respect for myself.

The flip side of this equation, of course, is that by writing every day I’m building self-respect. I wouldn’t for a minute pretend that every word or blog I write is parade-worthy, but each is a piece of this giant puzzle, so each is ultimately important and valuable. From my perspective, there’s not a single night’s work that I’m not proud of because each is a link in this (so far) unbroken chain. So to anyone, including myself, who’s consistent about anything, please know–it’s a big deal, it’s remarkable, and it’s okay to be your own parade.

Patting yourself on the back is better than beating yourself over the head.

I didn’t mean for this to turn into a pat-myself-on-the-back session, but I think it’s okay, especially considering all the years I’ve spent beating myself over the head. (Patting yourself on the back is better than beating yourself over the head.) I guess a lot of us beat ourselves up when we don’t have to. We make a big deal about what we can’t do and where we don’t measure up and refuse to acknowledge where we’re knocking it out of the damn park. Honestly–and I don’t mean for this to sound like whining–being human is hard. That’s just a fact. Our bodies and souls are under stress from day one, and it’s not like there’s a rule book that tells you what to do when the shit really hits the fan. As my friend Suzanne says, “Life is like getting pulled through a knothole backwards.” For these reasons, I really think anyone who bothers showing up on this planet is courageous, that it really is a big deal to go for a walk and keep putting one foot in front of the other, to do the best you can as one day links to the next like an unbroken chain.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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The Gifts You Give to Yourself (Blog #243)

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I feel like all I’ve talked about for the last six weeks has been my sinus infection and I’m really not sure what to discuss now that it’s gone. I mean, I’m still dealing with allergies–we could talk about that–but who isn’t dealing with allergies? Considering the fact that my health has come so so far in the last forty-eight hours, it seems like whining to even mention my red, watery eyes. Not that I’m above whining. (Did I mention my ears itch too?) Still, I’ve had plenty of energy today and am not coughing as much as before, so things are definitely on the upswing–or is it the downhill?

Either way, praise the lord (and bless my heart).

This afternoon I went to my aunt’s house to repair her Sleep Number mattress. Apparently, the air pump for the mattress has been working (inflating and deflating), but the display on the attached remote hasn’t been. Last week the company sent my aunt a whole new unit (pump and fancy wireless remote), and I guess they told her “anyone can install it” and “it’ll only take five minutes.” Perhaps you see where this is going. Y’all, it took closer to an hour, since I had to disassemble the entire mattress in order to detach the old pump hoses and attach the new ones. Honestly, this wasn’t a big deal, but the old pump had a total of four hoses (two for each side of the bed), and the new pump only had a total of two. Convinced I was looking at the wrong pump for the job, I called the company.

Well, the lady explained that the old pump was designed to inflate through one hose and deflate through the other, somewhat like a divided highway. But the new pump was designed to inflate and deflate through the same hose (talk about a traffic jam), so all I had to do was hook one hose to each side, then plug the two extra holes in the mattress with the end caps they sent in the box. “Oh, those end caps,” I said. The she said, “So yeah–don’t worry–one hose is all you need.”

All I could think was, Oh honey, if only that were true.

After that things were basically a breeze, although I did almost get stuck crawling under the bed to plug in the air pump. (Apparently I’m no longer the size of an eight-year-old child.) But everything else was fine, that is until I walked through the garage to get my toolbox out of my car and stepped on one of those glue trap used to catch mice. I thought, You’ve got to be kidding. Y’all, those things don’t come off easily, especially when you’re hopping around on one foot. I felt like I was in an episode of The Three Stooges. Later, when I finally got the glue pad pulled off, I texted my sister about it, and she said, “At least there wasn’t a dead mouse on it.” I replied, “No, just a cockroach–and my shoe.”

This evening I went to the library to read and spent half my time looking at new books to borrow. (I walked out with three I didn’t walk in with.) Considering I already have plenty of other books to read, I’m starting to see this behavior as a mild form of self-deception. Like, I’ll make time to read that. Or I guess it could simply be the thrill of acquiring something new. Yesterday, for Cyber Monday, I picked up a couple new books for my Kindle on Amazon. I only spent two dollars, but you’d have thought I’d won the lottery. (Two new books!) Whether I read them or not, it is fun having a collection. Granted, I have to return the library books, but at least they don’t cost anything.

The book I actually read tonight was the one I got last week about allergies and sinus problems. So far the author has listed plenty of good tips about air filtration, diet, and supplements, but tonight he also said that love is a healing power. To me this means that the body and immune system thrive in an environment of positive relationships, connectedness, and self-acceptance.

Along these lines, I’ve decided I’d like to reframe how I look at some of my “healthy behaviors.” For example, nine days ago I restarted my chi kung practice. Chi Kung is an ancient Chinese healing art, somewhat similar to tai chi. Well, whenever I restart my practice, it’s usually because there’s a problem (like a chronic sinus infection), and I’m wanting to do something–anything–to make that problem go away. But I realized tonight there’s a difference between doing something because I want a problem to go away and doing something because I want to feel as good as possible. Maybe either way I’m still doing chi kung, but when I focus on the problem, the practice seems aggressive, like me versus (the sick) me. But when I focus on wanting to feel good, the practice seems loving, like me supporting (the sick) me.

Honestly, I think I do a lot of things in the spirit of aggression. I’m not talking about fists-clenched aggression, I’m talking about subtle aggression that simple sounds like part of me needs to be different than it is–healthier, smarter, richer, more attractive. It’s as if one part of me is trying to change another. Of course, this is virtually impossible because, well, I’m one person. So tonight I started telling myself, I’m reading because I like to read and because I love myself. I’m doing chi kung because I love my body and want it to heal. I’m getting stuck under my aunt’s bed and stepping on a mouse trap because I love her. Honestly, I think these actions were loving before, I just wasn’t acknowledging them as such and giving credit where credit was due because I was too busy focusing on what was “wrong.” But I’m finding there’s relief in recognizing the gifts you give to yourself and others, a lot of “letting your guard down,” a lot of “not being so hard on yourself,” a lot of “isn’t it nice to be home again?”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Bodies are so mysterious, much more complicated than car doors. They take more patience to understand and work with. They require more than a couple hours to repair.

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