Don’t Suffer Needlessly (Blog #1072)

Currently it’s 10 in the evening, and I feel like a Bradford Pear tree is blooming inside my sinuses. I’m congested and can’t stop sneezing. I’m trying–trying–to not make this a national emergency. Yesterday I saw my ENT, and he reminded me that people–mere mortals like myself–get sick, get sick with sinus infections that typically last one or two months. “Whenever you get a sinus infection, the cilia inside your nasal cavities STOPS moving for six weeks minimum,” he said. Which means the mucus inside your head (or my head as the case may be) is tougher to move OUT.

Geez. Fine time for those little guys to go on strike.

The good news is that my ENT said he’s been having “really good results” with a specially compounded antibiotic/steroid mix that can be added to one’s nasal rinse. “Nose sprays only reach so far into your sinus cavities,” he said, “so nasal rinses are better.” And whereas I don’t love the idea of using antibiotics and steroids, I like that they wouldn’t be directly affecting my gut or overall body. Just my sinuses. Plus, I’ve given alternative treatments a good go (God knows I have), but, despite some spectacular results, they aren’t consistently cutting the mustard. So I’m willing to try something new.

My body continues to be a laboratory.

Along the lines of making efforts to heal, this morning I had an EDG (esophagogastroduodenoscopy) to scope out (get it?) the root cause of my acid reflux. Y’all, I don’t mind saying I totally enjoyed the drugs the anesthesiologist used to knock me out. Best sleep I’ve had all year. Alas, they said I couldn’t take any home with me. They also said I had a “small” hiatal hernia, basically an open door in my intestinal system that’s allowing certain fluids to sneak out and roam around where they shouldn’t be (in my throat).

At one time I would have been bothered by this information. Like, I’m falling apart. But more and more I’m convinced that my body can heal, or at the very least handle, all sorts of challenges. Plus, I know I’m getting good help. In a couple weeks, after the doctor gets some biopsy results back (“just to make sure there aren’t other contributing factors”), I’ll meet with him and get a game plan. After over a year and a half of NOT knowing what’s been causing all my intestinal distress, I’m like, bring it on.

More and more I think the more information I have, the better. This is my approach not only to my physical health, but also to my mental and emotional health (which I’m separating less and less from my physical health these days). My therapist says my dedication to understanding myself is “remarkable,” but–I don’t know–I’m just determined to unearth what makes me tick, what makes us all tick. And although I don’t claim to have all the answers, I’m convinced that if we’re overwhelmed by emotions, limiting beliefs, dysfunctional relationships (bad boundaries), and even health concerns, there’s a reason. Even science promotes this idea, solidly linking childhood trauma to heart disease and a number of other physical problems. Google the Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs) quiz.

As Caroline Myss says, “Your biography becomes your biology.”

For me, it’s natural to dig into my interior, although I know many people run from theirs. I mean, this journey isn’t for everyone. At the same time, you’re the one you live with day-in and day-out your entire life, so wouldn’t it behoove you to “know thyself,” like thyself, and even love thyself? Maybe that’s part of the reason we attempt to run from ourselves. (Which is, of course, a ridiculous and impossible notion.) We’re afraid of what we’ll find. But in my experience, even our scariest memories, emotions, and pains, when met with gentle compassion and curiosity, have something good to teach us. And leave us better on the other side.

Once a friend encouraged me to “sum up” what I’ve learned from my therapeutic and blogging journey. And whereas I get where they were coming from, it’s not really my style. For one thing, although I know bulleted lists are convenient, I personally almost always scan through them and think, I already know all that. Additionally, from the beginning I’ve said that I know my blogs are long and don’t have subheadings. Fine. This is on purpose. My invitation has been and continues to be–slow down, read a story, see if you can glean something from it.

Because some things, like yourself, are worth slowing down for. Are worth really thinking about.

Recently my therapist said that it’s never made sense to her that “someone will spend $80,000 on a car or botox” but not spend a fraction of that money on understanding themselves, on paying a professional for insights into their thoughts, behaviors, and relationships. Amen. So if I WERE to make a list, it would certainly include–seek help, get your ass in therapy (or do something useful that resonates with you), and don’t stop searching until you have some damn answers. Until you find something that works. In other words, don’t suffer needlessly. Not with your outsides. Not with your insides.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Abundance comes in many forms.

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On Being a Guinea Pig (Blog #1061)

This evening I’ve been thinking about being a guinea pig. What I mean is that’s how I see myself, as a walking experiment. For example, over the last few years I’ve tried a number of things to help with a number of things: body odor, acid reflux, headaches, you name it. And whereas some of the things I’ve tried have been conventional, many of them have not. Not that I’m absolutely sold on home remedies and weird shit (because a lot of it is bogus), but–let’s face it–conventional approaches don’t always get the job done. I can’t tell you the number of college-educated doctors I’ve asked about my issues, yes, to be helped some, but also to only be told, “You’re an enigma” or “You’ve got me there.”

Used to, these sorts of answers would cause me to despair. Like, it’s hopeless. I’m fucked. More and more, I’m not bothered when someone–even a professional–says they don’t know what to do. Why? Because that lets me know THEY’RE not the one I’m looking for, the one with the answer. And I don’t begrudge them for this. After all, it’s good to know where NOT to look (or whom NOT to date), and just because someone doesn’t have every piece of a puzzle doesn’t mean they don’t have a piece of it. Dr. Johan Boswinkel said, “I believe that truth has 144 sides.” To me this means that we can’t expect one person to be able to solve all our problems, whether that one person is a doctor, a therapist, or even us. It takes a village to see the entire picture.

To solve the entire problem.

Along these lines, for example, I’ve made huge strides with sinus infections thanks to a blog I found online. Still, last week I asked my primary care physician about ways to deal with post nasal drip, and next week I have an appointment with the ENT who performed my sinus surgery three years ago (which helped with, well, breathing) to ask them the same question. There was a time in my life I would have only sought out one opinion, but now I just don’t believe that’s enough.

How many opinions are enough? However many it takes to get the answer you want. This is what I mean by being a guinea pig. I’m so determined to heal–whatever that means–that I’m willing to ask almost anyone, to try almost anything. Rather than suffer. I don’t know. There’s just something in me that keeps hoping, keeps insisting that life can be better. Better than it has been. Better than it is. Not that the past and present have been completely awful (all of the time), but I’m convinced there’s something more. Not out there, but in here. Inside of me.

I’m talking about potential.

Fortunately, my keep-hoping, never-quit, good-God-I-need-an-answer-right-now-damn-it-because-I’m-exhausted attitude has started to pay off. Over the last few months my body has begun to heal and to change thanks to upper cervical care. Thanks to the new therapist I’ve started seeing (in addition to my regular therapist and whose methods I intend to discuss more fully soon) and the myofascial release practitioner I mentioned last week, I’ve processed and let go of emotions that have been hidden in my body for decades. Ugh. It’s been said that emotions buried alive never die, and I’ve found this to be true. Just because you stuff something down doesn’t mean it’s not there. Sooner or later, all our feelings must be felt, expressed, and assimilated. Otherwise they’ll simply show up as our neuroses (anxieties, fears, compulsions, addictions) or, perhaps worse, our dis-eases (pains, ailments).

Honestly, my discomforts and diseases over the years have been the main reason I’ve worked so hard to “get better” mentally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually. (I believe you can’t separate the four.) My Reiki teacher says our bodies are our sounding boards, meaning they let us know when something in our life needs attention or is out of balance. Of course, achieving balance is a delicate undertaking and seems to require a lifelong commitment. So be it. Perhaps this is why we’ve been given life in the first place, so that both we as individuals and we as a collective can come to a greater sense of harmony.

Perhaps.

Getting back to the idea that it takes a village, when I think about the healing I’ve experienced over the last few years and even the last few months, I’d like to be clear. As much as I love my therapist and wouldn’t be without her, I also wouldn’t be without this new therapist I’m seeing. Nor would I be without my primary care physician, my ENT, or my myofascial release practitioner. Nor would I be without, well, myself, since I’ve figured out a number of things no one on my “healing team” has been able to. Not that I’m so fabulous. For every piece I’ve figured out, I have dozens of websites, books, and YouTube videos (and their producers) to credit.

So. We’re all in this together.

All this to say that if you’re struggling with something, if you’re looking for answers, if you’re, well, human, hang in there. It’s a big universe (with a big internet), and you’ve got more options now than ever. Granted, there are certain things we’re just “stuck with” for life (and we all have to get off this planet somehow), but more and more I believe our bodies and souls are capable of more than we give them credit for, certainly more than we’ve been led to believe. So keep trying, keep searching. Until you find your Self. Keep being a guinea pig until you find Balance. When it comes to others, especially experts, take them with a grain of salt. They are, after all, only human. No one knows everything. And only you get to say what your potential is.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It’s enough just to be here.

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Our Emotions Go Round and Round (Blog #1024)

For the last three weeks I’ve been fighting a sinus infection. And whereas I woke up yesterday feeling better (yippee), I woke up today feeling worse (boo). Why knows why this up-and-down happens. The body is a mystery. Life is a mystery. More and more, I have more questions than answers. Recently I compared life to a circle, and this is what I meant. For all our living and learning, we’re just going round and round. One day we wake up and find ourselves exactly where we started.

We think, Ugh. I’m going nowhere!

At least that’s what I thought when I woke up still sick. Like I’ve been stuck in this pattern of upper respiratory distress for decades, and all the doctors, drugs, and gods and in the world can’t change it. That’s right, folks, we’ve discovered the impossible thing to get rid of. Mucus. (It’s here to stay.) But seriously, it’s overwhelming. At least when I think of the rest of my problems. This afternoon I got something in the mail I’d ordered online, and it was broken. Then I got a bill I wasn’t expecting. I just kept thinking, WHEN is something going to go my way?

Not that SOME things haven’t been going well lately. Indeed, I’ve blogged a lot about having headaches, and they’ve gotten SO VERY MUCH better over the last two months. Over the holidays I went weeks without working (and, therefore, earning any money), and this week alone I’ve picked up six different odd jobs. And I didn’t solicit any of them. Well, I did pray. My point being that even when one area of your life seems like it’s falling apart (seems being the operative word), another area of your life can be coming together. And surely if one area of your life can come together, the others can too. It’s just a matter of time, of patience, of remembering–

the universe hasn’t forgotten me.

Just now I said that something in your life can SEEM like it’s falling apart, the implication being that, well, maybe it’s not. What I mean is that, for example, for as frustrating as sinus infections are for me, they’ve taught me how to accept myself and how to ask for help. Just as importantly, they’ve taught me how to have compassion for others. Because all of us have that one thing that seems like a small thing to other people but is a big thing for us because it’s tied to so many other things in our lives. (Phew.) Like the way my sinus problems feel unsolvable, so, especially when I’m sick, all my problems feel unsolvable. Because if I can’t feel well then I can’t work and take care of myself and pay my bills and have a place to live and find a lover who isn’t into hobos.

See what I mean? One fear leads to another.

Overwhelming.

At times like these it’s important for me to remember to slow down, to slow way down, to slow way the fuck down. Like fast (haha). This looks like doing one thing–and one thing only–at a time. For example, this evening I have a dance gig (it’s good to be employed), so I’m blogging now, dancing tonight, and then that’s it for the day. Despite the number of other projects that are calling for my attention, they won’t get it. Rather, my body will. Meaning I’ll rest. Meaning I’ll do my best to allow my fears to arise, stay and be felt as long as they want to, then subside. Because they always do. Our emotions go round and round. In the end, we’re left with ourselves.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If another's perspective, another's story about you is kinder than the one you're telling yourself, surely that's a story worth listening to.

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A Lot Can Happen in 80 Days (Blog #1015)

Last night after finally posting the blog at 3:30 in the morning I figured I’d fall right to sleep. Well, wouldn’t you know it, I got a burst of energy and was up until 5:30, scrolling on my phone, thinking, thinking, thinking, and talking to Jesus. You know, because he’s always awake. Anyway, I thought, Maybe I’m healing, maybe my sinus infection is going away. But damn if I didn’t wake up this morning still hacking and coughing. This being said, I have had more pep in my step today and haven’t thought about being sick nonstop. So who knows what’s happening?

Jesus, that’s who.

Six weeks ago I wrote about my first upper cervical care treatment, upper cervical care being concerned with your atlas, the topmost vertebrae in your spinal column. (Why be worried about your atlas, Marcus?) Because your brainstem, which is like Command Central for your body, runs THROUGH your atlas and can be negatively impacted if your atlas is misaligned. Make a circle with your thumb and index finger and think about running a straw or water hose through it. Then think about what would happen if you tilted your finger circle in such a way that it clamped down or put pressure on the straw or water hose. What would you have?

Problems, that’s what. Less “flow.”

All this to say that when my doctor took x-rays of my neck back in November (pictured below on the left), my atlas was tilted way wrong. “We want it to be at an angle of 8 to 10 degrees,” he said, “and yours is at 3.4. Additionally, we’d like your neck to be curved like a banana, but yours is straight as a board.”

“Yeah, it looks like a cucumber,” I said.

Anyway, for the last six weeks I’ve been being treated (or not treated if my doctor determines that my correction has “held”) once a week. Last week we took x-rays to see how I’m improving (or if I am), and today–today!–I found out the results (pictured below on the right). Y’all, in a nutshell, they were nothing short of miraculous. These were my doctor’s words, not mine. First, my atlas is now sitting at an angle of 10.5, almost perfect. Second, my cucumber neck looks more like a banana. “It’s almost textbook,” my doctor said. “I’d like to see your top curve just a bit more, but your bottom is superior. [I’ve been told that before, I thought.] But even if we don’t get any more improvement–and we should–I’m THRILLED with where you are.”

I just stood there with my mouth open, amazed, at the same time thinking about my sinus infection.

“To come this far in this short of time really is phenomenal,” he said. “It means your body is responding really well.”

My doctor said that because your nervous system directly influences or controls your immune system, it’s possible that somewhere down the line my body will be able to fight off sinus infections on its own. “Not that you’ll never get one,” he said, “but instead of it lasting a month, maybe it’ll only last a few days. Because when your nervous system is operating properly, it should be able to ADAPT [to fight off bacteria, etc.].” Then he added, “It’s just going to take some time to get there. Your brainstem has been under pressure for a long time, and it has a lot of repair work to do. But hang in there. Usually people start seeing really wonderful results around the three or four month mark.”

Okay, I thought. Hang in there, Marcus. We have a lot of repairing to do.

The four month mark, that’ll be about the time I’m wrapping up this blog project. Tonight’s blog is #1015 in a row, and that means that after tonight I only have 80 more posts to go, 1095 days being three solid years. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately–THE END. And whereas part of me can’t wait to get there–like, I did it, now let’s drink a beer and take a nap–another part me of me, I know, will miss this. Because this is where I’ve found myself and where I continue to find myself. This is where I’ve learned to like me, my life, and life in general MORE. I guess it feels like these sweet moments are running out, and I’d just like to hold on a little longer.

Getting back to upper cervical care, even though I’ve ALREADY experienced such great results with it (my headaches are WAY better, my posture’s improved, my shoulder pain is all but gone), it still scares me. I think, What if I get to the three or four month mark and something still hasn’t healed? Ugh. We’re so programed to think, What if something goes WRONG? And yet more and more I’m learning to think, What if something goes right? What if I experience a(nother) miracle? What if THE END of the blog is THE BEGINNING of something ELSE that’s wonderful? I think of that book by Jules Verne and tell myself, Wait a minute. A lot can happen in 80 days. You can go around the world.

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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We’re All in This Together (Blog #1011)

It’s ten in the evening, and, despite the fact that I sat down to blog half an hour ago, I keep getting distracted by Etsy and other fun things on the internet. Since I’m fasting today, I’m having a difficult time concentrating. My body’s woozy–famished–and I simply don’t have the mental fortitude required for putting words and phrases together. Consequently, I’m ready to get this done, go to bed, and eat something, anything, tomorrow. Unless, of course, I cave and eat something tonight. But I would like to make it over twenty-four hours. Thanks to the holidays and my sweet tooth I haven’t given my body much of a break lately, so I’d like to give it a resting from digesting.

I just made up that rhyme.

Something that’s been on my mind lately is the fact that each of us is deeply unique and yet–at the same time–very much like everyone else. Recently my blogging platform notified me that I wrote 303,193 words in 2019 (an average of 831 words per post), and it occurred to me that anyone, were they of a mind to do so, could write just as many words (or more) about THEIR life, their challenges and triumphs, their joys and sorrows. Last night I went out to a local theater’s annual party with my friends Aaron and Kate, and there was a lip-sync battle. Anyway, I kept thinking about this fact as I observed each individual performer. Like, just as I worry about or am over the moon about something, so every other person on planet earth is worried or over the moon about something.

Just as I think my story is important (exciting, frustrating, boring, not good enough), so does everyone else.

Thinking about this has done a couple things for me. First, it’s given me more compassion for my friends, family, and even total strangers. For whatever they might be going through. Most of us, myself included, are so focused on what concerns us as individuals–how we feel, what we eat or don’t eat, what we wear–that we forget the fact that others are concerned about these same things. This should connect rather than separate us. Second, this viewpoint has helped me take life less personally. For example, my struggle with sinus infections FEELS personal because it’s my head that’s full of mucus, but knowing that thousands upon thousands of other people also struggle with sinus infections (or something equally rotten) reminds me that the universe doesn’t have a bullseye on the back of MY head.

It has a bullseye on the back of all of our heads.

But seriously, I don’t believe the universe is out to get us. Rather, I believe it’s out to grow us, to expand our hearts, to connect us. I also believe the individual challenges WE ALL FACE help us grow, expand, and connect. Granted, it’s tempting to think, I’m the only one, and use your pain and sorrow as a means to isolate and separate. But more and more, I don’t recommend this. I don’t recommend going it alone. Rather, I suggest reaching out for help when you need it and giving help in return when asked. I suggest thinking, I’m not terminally unique. We’re all in this together.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Normal people don’t walk on water.

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Beautiful (Blog #930)

5:30 AM

I wake up, even though my alarm isn’t set to go off until 6:45.

6:45 AM

After lying awake for over an hour, I finally roll out of bed, ready to face the day. Having been sick with a sinus infection for over two weeks, I do a quick assessment of things once I’m vertical. I decide I’m still sick, but things could be a lot worse (a lot worse), especially considering I have to work all day. Last night I prayed for a miracle. Maybe I got a small one. As if there is such a thing.

7:45 AM

I arrive at the Alma Performing Arts Center, ready to be a backstage bitch (local help) for the national tour of Beautiful: The Carole King Musical. Before getting out of the car I have a pep talk with myself. Be ready for anything, Marcus. Try to be helpful. Try to be kind. Above all, be yourself.

12:30 PM

For the last few hours me and dozens of other people have been unloading the semi-trailers, rolling carts and containers every which way through the theater. Some people are assigned to electrical, some to sound. I’m on props, which as far as I can tell is a catch-all group. We lay the Marley on the floor, unpack a grand piano. At 12:30 on the dot we break for lunch (it’s a union thing). I eat a pita bread sandwich, some gluten-free chips, and a date. This is the first date I’ve had in months (ha).

1:25 PM

I have a coughing fit.

1:30 PM

We go back to work.

4:15 PM

Most everyone, including me, is cut for the afternoon. Some of us have to return at 6:15 to work the show. The rest, including me, don’t HAVE to be back until after the show, about 9:30. And whereas I was initially disappointed about not working the full day (because it means less money and less experience), I’m delighted about it now. For one thing, I get to watch the show for free. (Have I mentioned I love a good musical?) For another, not working gives me an opportunity to blog and to rest. And since I have been asking Jesus for over a week now to help me physically get through today, well, far be it from me to NOT see this as an answer to prayer.

Thanks, J.

5:00 PM

I eat supper (my second meal of the day) at home and continue blogging (I started earlier on lunch break). Currently it’s 5:28, and I’m in bed horizontal. I’d really like to get a nap in, since most likely we’ll be packing up the trucks until two in the morning (phew). I keep thinking about how amazing this process is. Four semi-trailers full of costumes, wigs, props, lights, curtains–everything you need for a full-fledged Broadway musical–get unloaded, unpacked, and set up. Then there’s the show. Then everything is torn down, packed back up, and reloaded. All in the same day! As someone who doesn’t typically play well with others (I like to be in charge), it amazes me what a group of dedicated, talented people can accomplish working together.

Talk about beautiful.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We are all connected in a great mystery and made of the same strong stuff.

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Moment by Moment (Blog #929)

Well crap, I’m still sick. I promise one day I’ll get better and talk about something else. But when you’re sick, it consumes your thoughts. At least it does mine. Mostly I’ve been concerned about tomorrow because I’m supposed to work all day. Like from the buttcrack of dawn until after midnight. And whereas I’m not concerned about the work itself, I am concerned about being able to be fully present. I want to do a good job. I want to have a fun day. I want to feel good.

Dear lord, I’m ready for a miracle.

Alas, what I want and what the lord wants are often two different things. (Ain’t that the truth, Ruth?) I wanted to wake up feeling better today, but I didn’t. That being said, once I got up and around, things went all right. This afternoon my mom and I went grocery shopping, then I went to see my chiropractor, then I bought a pair of tennis shoes. Then I came home, ate dinner (thanks, Mom and Dad), did laundry, and packed a healthy lunch and snacks for tomorrow. That is one “good” thing about being sick–I’m all the more conscious about what I eat. Granted, my eating well never dramatically improvs my sinus infections, but it does help me feel better in general.

At this point, I’ll take what I can get.

Whenever someone faces a chronic problem, I think they inevitably have to wrestle with worthiness. What I mean is that I think we often settle for whatever shitty thing is happening in our lives because we don’t believe we are worthy of better–better health, better finances, better relationships. We grow up being asked, “Who do you think you are?” like all we deserve is what’s left over, which–let’s face it–is usually crap. But I like Oprah’s answer to that question–“I’m a child of God.” I don’t think that means we should all be millionaires, but I do think it means we should raise our standards.

There’s this funny thing about taking what you can get. On the one hand, acceptance is a thing. That is, if you’re sick or broke or in a terrible relationship, you have to accept it first. In terms of my present condition, it’s my job to make peace with the fact that sinus infections are my longterm and current struggle. No amount of whining will change this. But just because you accept something doesn’t mean you have to accept it forever. Said another say, it doesn’t mean you can’t hope for and work toward something better. I know that daily I’m racking my brain in order to find an answer to these infections. I’m approaching them physically, spiritually, and emotionally. Because I do think I’m worthy of feeling good on a daily basis.

Even if they don’t go away, these infections have become my teacher. For one thing, I’ve learned a lot about my body, a lot about healing. For another, I’ve learned a lot about patience, about being in the moment. For example, when I’m sick, the worst parts of my day are normally when I go to bed and when I first wake up. That’s when I hack and cough up all sorts of colorful junk. Historically, I’ve let that colorful junk set the tone for my day. If the junk is gross, for the rest of the day I constantly remind myself how sick I am. But the truth is the majority of my day is bearable. I cough a little. I’m a little low on energy. It’s not awful in reality, just in my head.

As I’m thinking about it now, I’m reminded that–somehow–I’ve made it through the last two weeks. I’ve gotten up, gone to work, run errands, whatever. I’ve made tomorrow out to be a big damn deal because it’s a longer day than normal, but I’ll make it–I know I will–the same way I’ve made it the last two weeks. The same way we all get through life. Day by day, hour by hour, moment by moment.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Give yourself an abundance of grace.

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Around the Bend (Blog #928)

Well crap. This almost never happens. I have writer’s block. For the last thirty minutes I’ve been trying to figure out what to say. Twice I’ve written half a paragraph then deleted it. Nothing that’s happened today seems interesting enough to share. I went to Lowe’s to have three keys made. Then because they could only make two of them, I went to Walmart to have one key made. Then I got stuck in traffic at a railroad crossing. For five minutes I watched the longest train in the world choo-choo on by. The whole time I wondered which car would be the last. If only the cars were numbered in reverse order, I thought. Then you would know–fifty-two cars cars to go, seven more cars til the end.

I guess waiting’s easier when you know how long you have to do it. Maybe that’s why restaurants tell you, “It’ll be fifteen to twenty minutes before we can seat you.” It’s about expectations. If that vibrating coaster they hand you goes off any sooner, you feel like you’ve won the lottery. Any later and you are p-i-s-s-e-d, pissed.

Two weeks ago today I came down with a sinus infection. And whereas I had a pretty good attitude about it for a week, ever since it’s really gotten on my nerves and caused me to worry. A week, that’s about how long I like waiting–to get well, to get over a boy, to get into my smallest pair of pants. Of course, these things usually require more time. Not to mention hard work. This is something I’ve learned over and over again the last few years. Anything worth having–a healthy body, a healthy mind, a healthy waistline–is worth working for and waiting for.

In terms of my sinus infection, I do think it’s better today. This afternoon and evening I taught three dance lessons and never once felt drained or miserable. Granted, I’m still coughing and somewhat lethargic, but I can just tell things are on the mend. Sure, I could wake up sick tomorrow, but with any luck at all, this will NOT turn into another three-month-long ordeal like the one I had two years ago. That’s the main thing I’m wanting to avoid–being sick indefinitely. Not knowing how long I’ll have to wait to feel like a human again. Two weeks? I can handle two weeks.

Hell, I can handle more if I have to.

The truth is none of us know how long we’ll have to wait–to heal, to feel human again, to die. Our days are like railroad cars whooshing by. Until we live them, we don’t know what they contain or which one will be our last. When we’re hurting we can hope that the end of our particular suffering is coming soon, but who can say until–one day–our suffering stops. The last car passes. Then there’s room for something else to come along. A new train. Perhaps a better one. More and more I believe that no one waits in vain, that patience is a gift we give ourselves, and that good things are around the bend.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Allowing someone else to put you down or discourage your dreams is, quite frankly, anything but self-care.

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You Don’t Have to Be Perfect (Blog #927)

Two weeks ago tomorrow I came down with a sinus infection. And whereas I’ve been trying all my tricks to get it to go away, it hasn’t. This morning the junk I coughed up was as colorful as ever, worse than the last few days. And whereas being sick is frustrating, I’ve realized the worst part about being sick is not the actual sickness, but rather my fear associated with it. For example, today I lay in bed and watched Season 2 of Pose, and this wasn’t difficult at all. What was difficult was imaging how awful the rest of the week will be if I don’t get better. I kept thinking, On Wednesday I have to work from sunrise until (probably) after midnight, and it’s just going to be hell. Never mind the fact that I COULD get better before then.

It’s funny how we sell ourselves on the worst possible scenario. As I’ve been struggling with this sinus infection for the last two weeks, I’ve all but convinced myself it’s going to turn into another three-month-long deal like the one I had almost two years ago. Thus all my horrible what-if scenarios. But hell, what if I am sick on Wednesday? I’ve worked all day with a sinus infection–and a fever!–before. It’s not something I want to repeat, of course, but it is something I know I can survive (because I have). The truth is we can survive almost anything if we simply take it one moment at a time.

I’ve realized lately just how much I tell myself I’m special–but not in a good way. What I mean is that whenever I get ANOTHER sinus infection–or chronic body oder or upset stomach–I tell myself that I’m the exception to the rule, that everyone else can heal but I can’t, that my body is an unsolvable mystery. But the truth is this thinking is a bunch of bullshit. I’m not THAT special. As Caroline Myss says, “Healing isn’t personal.” It’s something that’s available–at least possible–for everyone. If other people can find answers, I can find answers. You can find answers.

Forcing myself to hope rather than despair, this morning I went back to the website where I originally learned about the probiotic that has–up until this point–been so helpful for my sinuses. For over an hour I read about the author’s experience overcoming chronic sinusitis, as well as the questions asked and comments made by people just like me. First of all, I was reminded that I’m not alone; a lot of people struggle with their sinuses (or SOMETHING). No one gets through life without challenges. Second of all, I was reminded that “less is more.”

When trying to treat my sinus infection, my approach, however, has been “more is better.” That is, two or three times a day I’ve tried two or three different probiotics. But the website said this may be overkill. “Try one thing once or twice a day and see what happens,” it said. “It’s all self-experimentation.” So that’s what I did this morning–I tried one thing, one time. And whereas I can’t say for sure, I do think I’ve felt better as the day has gone on. I have more energy. I’m less overwhelmed. I’m not coughing as much.

Naturally, I hope things are on the mend. I’ll know more tomorrow. But even if I wake up hacking and coughing again, I’m convinced you don’t have to use a sledgehammer where a regular hammer will do. Four weeks ago I started intermittent fasting (eating only between noon and 8 PM) and eating mostly paleo, and although I’ve been a hard ass about it, I haven’t been a complete hard ass about it; I haven’t been a perfectionist. Yesterday I ate a full breakfast at 9 AM and didn’t stop eating until 9 PM. For the last three weeks I’ve eaten a fair amount of cheddar cheese (which isn’t paleo at all). But get this shit–this morning I weighed in and found out I’ve lost 9.8 pounds in the last 27 days. I can’t tell you how thrilled I am. (I can’t tell you how thrilled the elastic in my underwear is.) But my point is that it’s possible to see results with smaller, consistently taken actions. You don’t have to go all-or-nothing. You don’t have to be perfect to heal.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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All your scattered pieces want to come back home.

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On Holding Patterns (Blog #924)

After a week of hacking and coughing, last night I gave up and caved in. I took cough syrup. Not that I was opposed to the idea before, things just didn’t seem THAT bad. I know, I sound just like a man. Anyway, it helped. I actually slept and have barely coughed at all today. Granted, I’ve felt loopy, devoid of energy. But whatever. I’ve spent the day resting, watching television shows, eating tacos. I don’t hate these things.

Now it’s 9:30 and I’m ready to go back to bed. Today I’ve been thinking about all the things I could be doing, should be doing–reading, writing, working, exercising. I guess I’ve really bought into the notion that if you want something to happen, anything at all, you have to MAKE it happen. Like right now, this very minute. Talk about stressful, especially when you’re sick. The thought of doing anything right now other than zoning out feels overwhelming. I keep telling myself this feeling will change. At some point I’ll return to life; life will return to me. Until then? I am where I am.

There’s this idea that sometimes life (God, the universe) puts you in a holding pattern. Maybe you’ve felt this way before, like no matter what you do you can’t get traction–with your health, your profession, your sex life. To be clear, it sucks–getting benched by the big boys. But this suckage is by design. That is, whenever life asks you to “sit this one out,” there’s a reason.

A few years ago I sold most my possessions and turned my life upside down in order to concentrate on my writing career. Immediately following, a lot of my plans–to move, to have money, to not be living with my parents–didn’t work out. What did work out, however, is this blog, and as I’ve said a number of times, this blog is the best thing I’ve ever done. This blog has forever change my life for the better. Simply put, although I’ve been in a holding pattern in terms of my outside world, I’ve been set free in terms of my inside one.

This is the point of a holding pattern, to get you to stop struggling so much, to let your old fear-based patterns calm down, and to let new, more productive patterns take root and grow. This could take years, of course, but even getting sick for a couple weeks could be a holding pattern. We think we HAVE to be out there producing, socializing, getting laid. But when you’re sick, you’re sick. Nothing sounds fun. Your new job is to lie down, watch television, be patient. (There’s an idea.) The old you wants to worry about tomorrow, but tomorrow hasn’t come. It never does. All we have is this moment, whatever it looks like.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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When we expect great things, we see great things.

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