Be Here Now (Blog #920)

Every day for the last week I’ve talked about having a sinus infection. And whereas I wish I could say that I’ve been healed (and therefore talk about something else), I haven’t been. Despite the fact that I’ve tried most everything I know to do, nothing has worked. Last night I saw mild improvement but still ended up coughing myself to sleep. Today has been more of the same–gross. Honestly, I’m not sure that what I have IS a sinus infection. Maybe it’s a cold. Maybe it’s allergies. Dad says ragweed is higher than it’s ever been. Although last year I was tested for over fifty allergens including ragweed and didn’t react to a single one of them.

Take that, ragweed. You can’t get a reaction out of me.

Rather than being my usual take-charge self and flitting all over Van Buren and the internet in search of an immediate cure, I’ve spent most of today watching Netflix–in bed, in a chair, on the floor. In the last twenty-four hours I’ve watched four movies or documentaries. I’ve also done some reading. And some laundry. I’ve really tried to take it easy. To just be frickin’ sick and stop trying so hard. To stop being afraid of what might happen if I don’t. If I let go.

This is really hard for me to do.

It’s tough to know when to try and when not to try. For example, if I had’t scoured the internet for home remedies a year and a half ago, I never would have learned about the probiotic that’s been so helpful to my sinuses. But there’s obviously a point when it’s best to call uncle, to let your body rest and decide what’s best. Even if that means being sick.

One of the documentaries I watched this afternoon was called Be Here Now: The Andy Whitfield Story. Andy was the star of the television series Spartacus: Blood and Sand. This means at one point he was strong, healthy, and looked great in a loincloth. However, when he was in his late thirties, before the second season of Spartacus could begin, Andy was diagnosed with cancer. And although he underwent chemotherapy and radiation and even traveled the globe to supplement his treatments with Ayurveda, acupuncture, and yoga, he eventually died, leaving his wife and two small children behind.

The documentary mostly features Andy and his wife discussing their journey with cancer. And whereas for a year or two they were both convinced that he’d overcome his disease, there’s a point at which Andy starts thinking he won’t. The chemotherapy’s not working, the radiation’s not either, and the cancer keeps spreading. Andy says, “I finally thought, Maybe this is it for me, and it was a relief, to stop fighting.” His wife says, “I kept thinking that I needed the cancer to be over so we could get on with our life, but the cancer is our life right here, right now.”

Wow. How many of us think that our life will really start when? When we get over our illness. When we meet a lover. When our ship comes in. I know I think this on almost a daily basis. And whereas I hope many of my dreams will come true, even if they do, they’re simply fantasies now; they’re not my life. Now my life is living with my parents. It’s going to therapy and writing this blog. It’s getting a sinus infection (or cold) now and then. So I’m trying to remind myself that it’s up to me whether or not I embrace these things, whether or not I make the most of them, whether or not I choose to–as Andy had tattooed on his forearm–be here now.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Growth and getting far in life have nothing to do with where you’re physically standing.

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On Bitching and Mitching (Blog #919)

This entire week I’ve been fighting a sinus infection. And whereas things could be worse, I’ve been losing. Last night I went to bed hacking and coughing, and this morning I woke up hacking and coughing. Thankfully, things calmed down once my feet hit the floor and I became vertical. I guess the junk started draining. Draining, that’s what physical activity has been for me this week. Not impossible, but tiring. This morning I helped a friend load a bunch of trash (old furniture and such) onto a trailer to take to the dump. By the time we were finished, I was out of breath.

And starving. Let’s not forget starving, since three weeks ago I stopped eating before noon.

Does anyone feel sorry for me yet? If so, that’s honestly not my intent. I wish I could talk about something besides this plague–the black lung. (You could, Marcus.) I wish I could show up here and write about ten ways I have it all figured out and why I’m happy and healthy (and horny) all day every day. (You could, Marcus.) Well, yes, I could do that. But that wouldn’t be honest. I don’t feel great inside and out every day. For as hard as I work to be inside-and-out healthy, I still have plenty of things than can instantaneously bring me to my knees or, quite frankly, knock me on my ass.

I said a few days go that being sick carries less of a charge for me than it used to. What I meant is that for the longest time my sinus infections left me feeling hopeless. No matter how many doctors I saw and how many traditional treatments and home remedies I tried, the infections simply wouldn’t go away for very long. Then last year I discovered a probiotic (L. sakei) that turned out to be an absolute lifesaver. I had a sinus infection that lasted over three months, and once I got my hands on a product (kimchi) that contained the bacteria (and swabbed the inside of my nostrils with it), the infection went away in two days. “The universe knew you needed a break,” my therapist said.

“Twenty years,” I said, “is that how long it takes for the universe to figure these things out?”

Both when I had my sinus surgery two and a half years ago and when I learned about L. sakei a year and a half ago, I hoped that that would be it. Like, no more sinus infections ever. Alas, this has not been the case. Clearly, I still get them. And blog about them. That being said, they don’t last as long as they used to. They’re not as severe. And whereas I sometimes have to futz around with half a dozen products to find one with the correct, living bacteria, for me it’s still better (and cheaper) than going the traditional route of expensive doctor visits, antibiotics, and steroids.

But back to feeling hopeless. Admittedly, there have been times this week that I’ve been uber frustrated. Like, This bullshit again? But one of the benefits of so much therapy and honestly blogging about both my challenges and triumphs is that I’ve learned how to talk to myself. What I mean is that I’ve learned through daily practice how to not let myself get swept down the rabbit hole of worry and fear. Since I started this blog and especially since I went through about a year of being off-and-on sick, I’ve had a number of people refer to my writing as “bitching.” That’s fine. My point here isn’t to always be upbeat. My point is to be honest, and sometimes I’m honestly in a bitchy mood, especially when my body feels like a warm pile of shit.

All this being said, in addition to writing every one of my blogs, I’ve also read every one of my blogs at least three times, and although I could be wrong in my assessment, I think I make it a pretty distinct point here to 1) be real, 2) search for hope, and 3) find something good in even my worst days. The way I see it, saying, “This sucks, feel sorry for me,” that’s bitching. But saying, “This sucks, let’s hang in there and use this as a way to grow and become a better person,” that’s what I call mitching. That stands for mature bitching.

I just made that up.

My therapist says she’s a huge fan of bitching. “I love whining, whinging, and grousing,” she says. Not just because that’s the profession she’s in, but because it’s fun to vent, to feel sorry for ourselves. Can it wear your friends the fuck out? You’re damn right it can, which is why I suggest doing most of your emotional vomiting to someone who’s getting paid to listen to you. I also suggest that in addition to bitching you do some mitching. That is, start with the honest, ugly truth. Let your inner child throw a fit. This sucks. I hate it. Life’s not fair. I don’t know what to do. Then let your inner adult have the floor; talk yourself into a better place. All is not lost. There’s always help available. Things can change. I can change.

This is what I mean when I say I’ve learned how to talk to myself. For 919 days in a row (including today), I’ve sat down and been brutally honest about what I’m thinking and feeling. At the same time, I’ve been brutally honest about how I’d LIKE to think and feel (in a word, better). After over two years of doing this, it’s not that my bad days and challenges have disappeared. Certainly not. But what has happened is that now I don’t despair so quickly, if at all. When I do, I can get myself from a bad mood to a good mood in fairly short order.

If you want your life to change, you have to change your life.

This afternoon a probiotic I ordered earlier this week to help my sinuses arrived. And whereas I’ve only used it once, I think (I hope, I pray) it’s helping. I’ll know more tomorrow, but I’m not hacking and coughing as much as I was last night at this time. I have more energy. My point is that if you want anything in your life to improve–including your physical, mental, and emotional health–you’re gonna have to work at it again and again and again. Will you need hope and grace along the way? You bet your bottom dollar you will. None of us make it alone. At the same time, no one does our work for us. If you want your life to change, you have to change your life. This takes focused will and intent, determination and discipline, practice and patience.

It sucks, I know, but I promise you’ll like the results.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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The deepest waters are the only ones capable of carrying you home.

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Together (Blog #917)

Whenever I’m sick with a sinus infection, like I have been this week, I judge how sick I am by the color of the junk I cough up when I first get out of bed. It’s gross I know. (Don’t worry, I won’t get too descriptive.) But take yesterday for example, I hacked up this stuff that was dark and bloody. I thought, Oh yeah, I’m sick. But this morning I hacked up this stuff that was like, light yellow. So I thought, Okay, all right. Go team. This is progress. We’re on the mend.

As has been the case for the last year and a half, I credit my sinus improvements to probiotics. Not the kind you swallow, but the kind you either swish around in your mouth or sniff up your nose. I get it, it’s weird. But the idea is that sinus infections are caused by “bad” bacteria (I put bad in quotes because I’m sure the bacteria’s mothers don’t think of them as bad), and the probiotics contain “good” bacteria that crawl around in your sinuses, find those critters that are causing your nasty infection (I imagine they have to use teeny-tiny flashlights), and eat them for breakfast (with little forks). It’s sad to think about, I know. All those grieving bacteria mothers. But hey–circle of life and all that.

Assuming the probiotics I bought and started yesterday are the reason for my less colorful mucus, I’ve continued using them today. And whereas my health hasn’t miraculously turned around, I have felt better, more energetic. I’ve been coughing less. This morning I took it easy (I watched a documentary about Pixar, the computer-animated film company, on Netflix), but this afternoon I rallied and did some odd job work for a friend of mine–hauling trash to the dump(ster) and taking donation items to Savers. This evening I got out to teach a dance lesson, but when they canceled at the last minute I ran some personal errands instead. Returned non-used items to Lowe’s and Walmart, that sort of thing.

At one point in time I really flipped shit whenever a dance lesson canceled. Not because I didn’t understand that things come up, but because I get paid by the hour. In a very real sense, I count on that money. Still, these last several years have taught me that things always work out and something else always comes along. So rather than launching into my worry-wart routine this evening when my lesson canceled, I shrugged my shoulders and thought, Whatever. What-the-hell-ever. Now I can run those errands. And whereas running my errands wasn’t as lucrative as teaching a lesson would have been, it was perhaps just as fun.

I’ll explain.

Immediately upon leaving my teaching space, I saw three deer. No kidding. They’d just crossed the street and actually turned around to look at me. Stopping my car, I pulled out my camera. At this point the deer ran off. But then I looked out my other window and saw another deer, and this one let me take its picture. (How polite.) Talk about a magical moment. For this brief instant I wan’t thinking about sinus infections, lost wages, or anything stressful. I was just right there, right then. We were there together.

After my moment with the deer, I went to Lowe’s. There I told the ladies at the customer service desk that I’d like to return an item (a package of nuts and bolts). Well, one of the ladies said, “Oh, I’m sorry, it’s No-Returns Thursday.”

“Oh, no,” I laughed. “Not No-Returns Thursday!”

Then the other lady said, “Don’t worry. We’ll make an exception for you because you have great hair.”

Phew, I thought, my great hair saves the day again.

(For the record, my hair has never saved the day before today.)

I can’t tell you how much this interaction thrilled me. Earlier today I stopped by the bank to reorder checks (which I also did last week, but the checks came back with a spelling error on them–the orderer typed NPRTH instead of NORTH), and whereas the teller was pleasant and helpful, she wasn’t playful. Maybe that wouldn’t be appropriate at a bank, but my point is that we often take ourselves and what we’re doing so seriously that we miss the living, breathing people standing in front of us. We forget that we can make of any moment what we want to. We forget that regardless of our life circumstances we can have fun.

We can be right here, right now together.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We can rewrite our stories if we want to.

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Not Just on the Roof (Blog #916)

I took the above photo several years ago from the window of my old dance studio. (Facebook reminded me about it today.) Back then I was on the second story of a cool building in Historic Downtown Van Buren. Sometimes after everyone else left I’d sit in the window or crawl out on the roof and watch traffic go by and stare at unaware pedestrians, maybe while listening to Jamie Cullum or smoking a cigarette. Especially on evenings when the sun was setting and the sky was a Crayon box of colors, it was like my little piece of heaven. I don’t miss many things about the studio now, but I miss that spot and the feeling I had sitting there. As The Drifters so accurately said, “On the roof, it’s peaceful as can be.”

Last night I went to bed sick with sinus junk. And whereas I was hoping my probiotics would heal me during the night, they didn’t do crap, which means I woke up with more (really colorful) junk this morning. This was frustrating, but not completely disheartening. I have, after all, been down this road dozens and dozens of times before, and my body always eventually finds its balance. A word that’s been popping up in my experience the last twenty-four hours is harmony, the idea of everything working together in unison. This is what I’m hoping for–harmony in my sinuses, harmony in my body. It’s what I’m praying for. It’s what I’m working toward.

Despite my having a head full of phlegm, today has been lovely. I saw my therapist this morning, ate a tasty salad for lunch, then spent the afternoon at a coffee shop, reading, learning. Then I ran all over town in search of MORE probiotics to hopefully help my sinuses. This mission was only mildly successful–I found one new thing to try–but that’s okay. I enjoy the hunt, the trial and error. Do I enjoy hacking and coughing in the meantime? Hell no. But I have noticed the last few months that being sick carries less of a “charge” for me than it used to. What I mean is that I used to really freak out, worry, and stress every time I got sick. I’d think that God was punishing me, that if I were only a better or smarter person I wouldn’t be sick in the first place. Now most of that guilt and fear is gone. I still get sick, I just don’t beat myself up about it like I did before. Plus, I have more hope. Over a year ago I had a sinus infection that lasted three months. It was hell, but I made it. So I know whatever happens from here on out, I’ll make that too.

One of the things my therapist and I discussed today was abundance, which is something she deep-down believes in and something I think sounds good if you say it fast. That being said, I’m coming around to the idea. Anyway, she’s recently been sick also, and she said that when you’re an independent operator (who gets paid by the hour) and get sick and can’t work, it’s easy to question the notion that you’re always supported by God or the universe. “But we are,” she said. “We always have more than we need.”

“I have more snot than I need,” I said.

I told my therapist that recently I’ve had some strong emotional reactions to things. For example, I got immediately angry when someone sent me a text message. I got squirmy when someone else asked me to do a certain odd job. And whereas I knew that my emotions were information from my intuitive system saying respectively, “Stand up for yourself,” and, “Run, Will Robinson,” my therapist suggested thinking of my emotional reactions as “tells.” Like, in the future when I become immediately angry or squirmy, I’ll know it’s my gut’s way of communicating, “Look alive, kid.” She said she has her tells for knowing when a potential client won’t work out and always regrets it when she goes against her inner guidance.

I realize I’m jumping around here, but this is how my therapy sessions work. Shit happens in between visits, and I make a note about it. Then when I finally see my therapist, I hop from note to note. One minute we’re talking about comedians on Netflix (we both have a thing for stand-up), the next minute we’re talking about a confrontation I’ve had or need to have, and the next minute we’re talking about relationships. Today she said, “Relationships aren’t for punks.” This came up because I’ve had a number of friendships fizzle out over the last several years and sometimes still feel gross about it. I think, Who was right and who was wrong? Am I being stubborn? Am I holding a grudge? But as my therapist explained, “Relationships are real messy. Both parties have to be adults. They have to be willing to own their shit and apologize when necessary.”

It’s easy to romanticize the past, to look back at photos and think, Those were the good old days. Bitch, please. There’s no such thing. Sure, there might have been something in your past that you enjoyed and wish you could experience again, but–I swear–it wouldn’t be the same even if you could. Additionally, we forget that life–our past, present, and future–is always a mixed bag. I miss sitting on the roof at my old dance studio. I miss that peaceful feeling. However, I don’t miss the drama of owning the studio or my lack of self-awareness at the time. Back then I had a great view of downtown, but a piss-poor view of myself and my relationships. Largely thanks to therapy and this blog, now my perspective has shifted dramatically for the better. Doing The Hard Work has made all the difference. Now I can get that peaceful feeling anywhere–because it’s inside me. Not just on the roof.

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.

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On the Best Advice (Blog #915)

Yikes. Yesterday I started getting a sinus infection, and it went full-blown during the night. I got a sore throat and everything. But what do you do? Life goes on. Even if you don’t. This morning I crawled out of bed at seven, coughed up a bunch of colorful junk, got dressed, and drove my parents to the hospital. My dad’s been needing a pacemaker for a while now, and today was the day. And despite being ten minutes late because of traffic, we made it. More importantly, he made it. The surgery went fine, we’re all home now, and his heart’s beating faster than it was before.

In the waiting room today I began reading The Writer’s Journey: Mythic Structure for Writers by Christopher Vogler. So far, it’s glorious. One thing Vogler points out is that every great hero (or heroine) has a guide or mentor, someone who says, “Look what’s possible.” Joseph Campbell called these helpers magical aid. Dorothy had Glinda the Good Witch, Frodo Baggins had Gandolf the Grey, and Mary Tyler Moore had Lou Grant. I’ve personally been fortunate to have a number of mentors, but I consider my therapist my big-kahuna mentor. More than any other person in my life, she’s given me the guidance I’ve needed to navigate life’s challenges successfully.

Whenever I praise my therapist and thank her for changing my life for the better, she always says, “You did all the heavy lifting.” This is important to understand. Not that I’ve done any heavy lifting, but that even the best therapist can’t fix your problems for you. They can support you, they can offer you wisdom, but you’re ultimately the only one who can do anything about your problems. (Why, Marcus?) Because they’re YOUR problems.

When discussing mentors Vogler says, “The best advice is useless if you don’t take it.” Think about that. The best advice is useless if you don’t take it. Countless times my therapist has told me, “If you want healthy relationships, here’s what you have to do. I’m giving you the playbook. Be honest. Confront. Have tough conversations. Set boundaries.” Talk about fabulous advice. But what’s the saying? It’s easy to say, harder to do. When you walk out of your therapist’s office, this is where the heavy lifting comes in. This is where the rubber meets the road.

When given good advice, one question to ask yourself is, “Am I going to willfully discard this information or actually do something with it?” For me, the answer often comes when I ask myself, How badly do I want to be free? (I’ll explain.) A number of times since starting therapy I’ve been in situations in which someone violated my boundaries. I wrote about a recent situation involving work and compensation for services here. Recently I’ve come to know–deep down–that when my first response to, say, a text message, is anger, I know a boundary has been crossed. This is part of seeing and living clearly. First you have to admit that there’s a problem rather than brushing it off or explaining it away. How do you know something’s a problem? Your emotions will tell you. Anyway, once you know, then you can decide what to do about it.

This is the part about being free. When you know there’s a problem, a violation of some sort, but you purposefully choose to ignore it or brush it under the rug, who’s fault is it when 1) you feel miserable and 2) it happens again and again and again? More and more I’ve started speaking up. Not because it’s fun but because I know what happens when I bite my tongue (see below). Recently I told someone, “If you and I are going to continue to have a professional relationship, I need you to do this.” Now, the person said, “Okay,” and that was that. We’ll see what happens. But my point is that sometimes other people don’t even know they’re crossing a line unless we tell them in plain, simple language discharged of emotion (and blaming and name-calling).

For me, I’ve found that when I don’t speak up when I know there’s a problem, when I bite my tongue, I suffer needlessly. My therapist says, “Biting your tongue hurts.” For me what hurts is that I stew. I imagine all sorts of scenarios in which I yell and scream and call people bitches and assholes (and shitheads and turds). I tell other people, “Can you believe what this person did?” But when I say, “Hey, wait a damn minute, we need to talk,” that’s it. Within a matter of minutes, I feel better, regardless of how things turn out. No drama. No gossip. No pain.

In all my years (decades) of struggling with sinus infections, the only thing that’s reliably helped them is a probiotic called L. sakei, which is most commonly (but not always) found in kimchi or fermented cabbage. Last week when I started to get an infection, I bought a bottle of kimchi, and it knocked it out overnight. For a week I felt great. Now the infection is back with a vengeance. Because that bottle didn’t help yesterday, this afternoon I ended up buying over seven pounds of kimchi–because the probiotic in the kimchi expires after a couple months and the only recently made kimchi was in a huge jar. And whereas I find a six-foot tall white man walking out of an Asian food mart with seven pounds of kimchi tucked under his arm funny, again, it’s the only thing that’s helped.

You do what you gotta do.

This evening I’ve been using the new kimchi, and the jury’s still out as to whether or not it’s gonna work. I’ll know for sure in the morning. Either way, I ordered a fresh batch of only the probiotic (it comes in a powder) just moments ago, and that will be here by the end of the week. And whereas part of me is freaking out because–what if nothing works?–experience has taught me that this does work. Sure, it’s not an exact science–I have to play around to get the right product, and it’s not a one-and-done deal–but it works. The same goes with how you can improve your relationships–communicate, listen, set boundaries, speak up. It’s not an exact science. You have to keep working at it. But the advice works–if you take it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can't build a house, much less a life, from the outside-in. Rather, if you want something that's going to last, you have to start on the inside and work your way out, no matter how long it takes and how difficult it is.

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I’m Sick, I Hurt, I Stink (Blog #908)

Yesterday I said that I woke up with sinus junk and started my magic probiotic (L. sakei) in hopes of healing. Well, once again, it worked. I woke up in the middle of the night with a surge of energy. It was like my body said, “Yippee! We feel better!”

“But it’s three in the morning,” I replied.

Of course, my body didn’t care. We lay in bed, wide awake and tossing and turning, until five. Not that I’m complaining. I’d rather be sleep deprived than sinus sick any day. And whereas it’s a bit frustrating to have to deal with sinus junk at all, my life now sure beats my life five years ago. Hell, twenty years ago. For decades I got several sinus infections a year, each infection lasting at least a week. I went to doctors. I took (so many) antibiotics and steroids. I was out time and money. Nothing really helped. Now what used to take a week or more to go away disappears in as little as half a day, without doctors, without drugs. And all for the cost of what? Yesterday I spent six dollars on a bottle of kimchi (which contains L. sakei). All this to say that I’m extremely grateful. This morning I woke up actually looking forward to going to work to paint. I was just happy to be alive and well.

Now, could I wake up sick tomorrow? Of course. None of us are guaranteed a thing.

I guess tonight’s blog is about gratitude, my consciously acknowledging that some things in my life are healing. My sinuses, for one. For another, my headaches. For months (years) I was getting them weekly, sometimes several times a week. But between going to my new chiropractor and (I think) acupuncture and cupping, I haven’t had a full-blown headache in three weeks. Is all my neck tension gone? No, not be any means. But I’m learning that things don’t have to be perfect to be better than the used to be. To be heading in the right direction.

Another thing that’s improved–just in case you wanted to know–is my body odor. Ugh. Ever since I took a ton of antibiotics before my sinus surgery in 2017, my arm pits (and other pits) have off-and-on stunk. Like gag-a-maggot gross. I can’t tell you what a drag this has been. I love dancing, but when I dance, I sweat. And when I sweat, I stink. No one has ever made a big deal about it, but I’ve been super self-conscious about being close to anyone. In the last almost three years, I’ve tried everything–Yodora deodorant cream (which contains borax), white vinegar, baking soda, coconut oil, magnesium and zinc supplements, chlorophyl supplements. The list goes on. Well, I’d pretty much given up. I thought, Maybe this is just the way I smell.

Then God threw me a bone.

What I mean is that a few weeks ago I was reading a book about I don’t even remember what, and that book mentioned another book about the importance of magnesium. Well, I started reading that book, and while doing some Googling about something it said, I ran across an article that said Milk of Magnesia was fabulous for stinky arm pits, I guess because the magnesium keeps the bacteria on your skin (that are responsible for how you smell) in check. No kidding. Look it up. Dr. Oz even did a program about it. Anyway, I bought a bottle (for five bucks), gave it a shot, and it worked like a charm. That first day I worked outside in one-hundred-degree weather and didn’t smell a thing. Now, if I don’t reapply every day (or if I don’t shower), I smell something. Again, things aren’t perfect.

But things are so much better.

A lot of times when I fantasize about healing anything in my life, I imagine something grand like an angel or miracle swooping down and fixing things in an instant. Bippity boppity boo. You know, like all of a sudden a problem is gone and gone forever. Alas, this doesn’t seem to be the way the universe operates. Do miracles happen? You’re damn right they do. And whereas I’m convinced the insta-fix can and does occur, I’m also convinced that more often than not the miracles we experience are a combination of work on our part and grace from above. For instance, I spent hours upon hours scouring the internet for sinus infection home remedies (and trying none too few of them) before coming across one that worked. The same with my headaches, the same with my smelly pits. I consulted and questioned doctors, healers. I spent a lot of money.

Did these actions on my part guarantee my improvements? Absolutely not. That’s where grace comes in. At the same time, I’m not sure the grace of healing would have come had I just stayed at home and done nothing. When was the last time someone magically showed up on your doorstep with the answer to your problem? Probably never. You’ve gotta do your part. So it’s a combination, a paradox of action and inaction. This dance between accepting what is (I’m sick, I hurt, I stink) and believing the answers you’ve been waiting on for years can show up in the blink of an eye.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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Your Best Is Good Enough (Blog #852)

This afternoon I saw my chiropractor, the one who works with the mental/emotional/energetic causes of physical problems. This continues to be a trip. Today was my third appointment, and the man’s gotten more done with me than a handful of other chiropractors have in six times the visits. For the longest time I’ve been constantly aware of tension in my neck. And whereas it’s still there, now there are days I don’t even think about it. This is progress. This is good progress. That being said, the guy’s methods are weird.

I say weird but I only mean they’re weird compared to most medical people’s methods. I’ve spent a lot of time in the alternative healing community, and I’ve seen some really strange shit. Compared to that stuff, my chiropractor’s methods are really quite benign. Today he used muscle testing to get at the underlying emotions behind my long-time struggle with sinus infections. The positive word that came up (the emotion I feel before a sinus infection) was RELIABLE. The negative emotion (during and after a sinus infection) was INADEQUATE. Phew. There’s a can of worms. The last two years, which have been full of medical tests (that have basically said I’m healthy as a horse), have been filled with my trying to decide whether or not me and my body are reliable or inadequate.

The jury’s still out.

In truth, inadequacy is a pervasive emotion for me. Recently I blogged about my feeling like not enough, and I suppose this is the same thing. There’s a scene in Mr. Holland’s Opus when a former student of Mr. Holland’s, now a grownup, is shutting down Mr. Holland’s music program due to budget cuts. He says, “We’re doing the best we can, Mr. Holland,” and Mr. Holland yells, “Your best is not good enough!” Both of these characters are firmly entrenched in my psyche, the part of me that says, “Dammit, I’m doing everything I know to do,” and the part that is always demanding more. You know, The Perfectionist. The Hard Ass.

The one who’s real fun at parties.

This afternoon I read Transforming Fate into Destiny: A New Dialogue with Your Soul by Robert Ohotto. It’s glorious. Read it and give it to all your friends for Christmas. But really. In a New Age/Self-Help culture that claims you can manifest or have whatever you want, this book is a breath of fresh air. Robert explains that, yes, we can create magnificent things in our lives. Each of us is more powerful than we give ourselves credit for. However, each of us also came into this life understanding that there would be certain limitations (or boundaries, I love a good boundary), so we have to work within those fated guidelines.

For example, no matter what I put on my vision board, I’m never going to be the first female President of the United States. (Crap.) Because I’m a man. Likewise, I’ll never be straight (sorry, ladies), be six-foot-two (dang), look or sing like Zac Efron (dang again), or have different parents. Because my sexuality, height, looks, and parents have already been decided. And so have yours.

So get over it.

Now, what I do with what’s already been decided, that’s a different story. As I understand it, if I do nothing but sit on the couch every day and eat bonbons, that’s my choice. However, in choosing to not be an active, conscious participant in my life, not only will I not mature, but I’ll also feel as if my life is out of my control. Jung said, “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will run you life and you will call it fate.” Robert says, “If you don’t access direction from within, your life will be directed from without.” (Oh snap.) However, if I choose or anyone chooses to do The Hard Work and grow the eff up, well, now we’re cooking with gas. My therapist says her job is to support me in reaching my highest potential, and your highest potential is another way of talking about your destiny. What’s actually possible for YOU? Not that guy over there, but you. What, exactly, is inside you that’s eager, waiting, and willing to be born?

This, of course, is the million dollar question, and only the gods and your soul have the answer.

Also–fair warning–because all things worth having require sacrifice (of your time, talents, and ego), should you choose to pursue your highest potential, some days are really gonna suck.

I still recommend it.

Getting back to my chiropractor’s weird ways, I repeat, they’re only weird because they’re not conventional. It’s becoming more in vogue to discuss the mind-body-soul connection, but in my experience, it’s mostly lip service. I mean, when I get a headache, give me a Tylenol. And yet I know there’s more to it. This is what I’ve run into hundreds of times along The Path. This is what you’ll run into when reaching for your highest potential or working to transform your fate into destiny. You’ll know there’s more inside you that’s wanting to come out. But because your path is different from everyone else’s, it will feel weird, you’ll question it, and you’ll feel inadequate.

Keep going. You are not alone. Your best is good enough.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Our struggles unearth our strengths.

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Persistence, Persistence Ever (Blog #830)

I spent this last weekend out-of-town and sick with a sinus infection. Since I’d left my probiotics (which usually help my sinuses) at home, Friday afternoon I went to a local Asian market (called Grace, which I thought was auspicious) and bought some homemade kimchi. (Kimchi sometimes, not always, contains the probiotic that helps my sinus infections.) Then, because I like the shotgun approach to healing, that night I went to a health food store and bought more kimchi (a retail brand), as well as regular probiotics.

Unfortunately, none of this helped. I woke up Saturday sicker than I was Friday. So that morning I went to another Asian market (called Lucky, which I hoped I would be) and bought more kimchi, this time a brand I’ve had good results with back home. Alas, after using that kimchi all day Saturday, I woke up Sunday (yesterday) still stick.

Talk about frustrating.

About ready to give up and be sick, I decided to try again. So off I went to another Asian market. This one had an unremarkable name, but it did, however, have a case of coconut water labeled CoCo (my nickname on this site) sitting right at the front door. Maybe it’s a sign, I thought. Anyway, I bought MORE kimchi, this time a brand that prints the production date on their labels. (The helpful probiotic in kimchi is only alive for so long after production, which is why using kimchi to help your sinuses is sort of a crap shoot based on brand, ingredients, and the age of the product.)

THANKFULLY, this bottle seemed to do the trick. Last night my friend Matt and I went swing dancing, and mid-way through the dance I started feeling like myself again–more energetic, less blah. Y’all, I really had the best time. This was my first occasion Lindy Hopping since my knee injury seven months ago, and I was in absolute heaven. Not only did I get to see some old friends, but I got to Lindy Hop. I love Lindy Hopping. Now–granted–my left knee didn’t perform like it used to, but it didn’t “act up” and it didn’t cause me any pain either. So it’s just going to be a process–a process of learning how to dance again.

This morning I woke up at 5:30 to drive back home, go to therapy, and run some errands. Then I unpacked, took a nap, and spent five hours reading a book I picked up this afternoon (The Call of the Phoenix) while running around. Now I’m trying to knock out tonight’s blog so I can go back to bed because I’m getting up early tomorrow for my six-month follow up with my knee surgeon. Talk about a journey. I know I still have progress to make, but I really have come a long way.

The word on my mind today is persistence. The book I read tonight said, “Persistence, persistence ever.” This weekend I bought four jars of kimchi and one bottle of probiotics in an attempt to cure my sinus infection. That’s four grocery stores and forty to fifty bucks, which to my mind is better than going to the doctor and using antibiotics, but the whole ordeal was nonetheless a pain the ass. Sinus infections are a pain in MY ass. But boy am I sure glad I persisted and went looking for that fourth jar. Still, for all I know, I could wake up sick tomorrow and be back to the drawing board. But in my experience, this is life. We dance. We fall down. However slowly, we get back up. We insist on dancing again.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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if you're content with yourself and you're always with yourself, then what's the problem?

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You Can Best Your Monsters (Blog #724)

Five years ago today I had my first therapy session. Happy anniversary to me and my therapist (the people, not the blog)! Holy crap, y’all, I’ve come a long way and changed dramatically, both inside and outside. In the last five years I’ve confronted my demons and verbalized my deepest fears. I’ve learned to say no (to bad relationships), learned to say yes (to myself and healthy behaviors), and learned to speak my truth. And whereas it may sound like a silly thing to celebrate–the day I started seeing my shrink–I will forever be grateful for my therapist, her presence in my life, and what I’ve learned from her. Even if I were to never see her again, I know I’ve been forever transformed because of her. My life is on a better path.

So pass the cake.

Yesterday I blogged about feeling better and healing from my on-and-off sinus infection. I’d tried something different that seemed to the trick. Alas, I woke up in the middle of the night sick again, and I’ve felt weak and congested all day. It’s been back-and-forth like this for a while now, and it’s beginning to wear me out. I feel like I’m constantly having the rug pulled out from under my feet. Like my body and the universe are giving me health for a day then saying, “Nope. Just kidding. We take it back.” It makes me want to quit trying, to just give in and be sick every day, every damn day, to cry uncle.

Fortunately or unfortunately, I’m not built like that.

This afternoon I’ve been brainstorming “next steps” and things to try. In my experience, there are always more things to try. And whereas this is overwhelming–because how do you decide what to try next?–it leaves room for hope. Last year I had a sinus infection for three months and finally found something that knocked it out for a year, so surely I can find a solution this time. Not that this is fun to do when you’re sick, drag your ass all around town and the internet looking for answers. My resolve comes and goes.

Recently I came across the questions, “Could you accept your pain as part of your experience without wanting it to change in any way? Could you include it as part of all that is you?” I really like these questions. So often when I’m in pain or experiencing something unwanted, like a sinus infection, I push against it. My body tenses, my breathing shortens. It’s like how a kid closes their eyes believing whatever it is they don’t want to see will disappear if their face is clenched tight. Of course, this just adds more stress to your system and causes you to hyper-focus on the problem. So I’ve been trying today to not let my current struggle be the only thing I’ve thought about, to let it be part of my day, but not my day entirely.

I’ve been mildly successful.

This afternoon I re-read some old blog posts, and it’s the biggest trip, reading my inner thoughts and wonderings from the perspective of almost two years later. It’s like knowing how my own story’s going to end. For example, today I read about my being concerned over hospital bills and body odor and thought, Don’t worry, kid, it’ll all work out. Or at least if it doesn’t, you’re not going to die. Part of me knows that two years from now, I’ll look back at this current challenge and think the same thing. I made it. And yet another part frets.

A week from today will be my second blogiversary. If I can make it seven more posts (including tonight’s), I will have completed two full years of daily writing. Wow. Like meeting my therapist, this project has transformed my life for the better. A few times over the last two years, people have commented that I do quite a bit of complaining or bitching here. I know I talk about being sick a lot (because I’ve been sick a lot). But the premise of the blog is this–first, I spill my guts about something that’s bothering me, then I do my damnedest to work myself into a better place, to find hope. Sure, I wish I could just straight to the hope part; I wish I could be sunshine and rainbows every day, every damn day. But even after five years of therapy, I haven’t figured out how to never let anything get to me. (Maybe you have.) I have, however, figured out to take even the scariest monsters in my life and shine a light on them. I’ve figured out how to shrink them down to size.

When I think about being sick, it’s really the fear that gets me. Because it’s not a problem to be sick for a day or a month. Even a year, I suppose. But you think, What if this lasts forever? What if there is no answer? Talk about tensing up. That shuts you down. But since starting therapy and especially since starting this blog, I’ve come to believe that everything is workable and everything is faceable. Not that you’ll feel confident every moment of every day or always handle yourself with grace, but deep down a part of you will never waver, a part of you will know. You can do this. You’re just as big as anything that scares you. You can best your monsters.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Whatever needs to happen, happens.

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On Being in Touch with Your Emotions (Blog #723)

Yesterday I blogged that I was going to give myself the weekend to be sick, that I’d wait until Monday before trying to “mount a defense.” Or anything else given how little energy I had. (That was a sex joke, Mom.) That didn’t happen. After I posted the blog, I went to the website where I first heard about the probiotic (L. Sakei) that I’ve used half a dozen times to banish my sinus infections. There I read that if the probiotic previously worked for you but hasn’t lately, it can be because your body has acclimated to it. Switch it up, the site said. If you’ve been using the powder, try kimchi (fermented cabbage), or vice versa. Or take a regular probiotic capsule, break it open in you mouth, and swish the contents around.

In short, do what you gotta do to get your sinus flora back on track.

About midnight, hopeful, I went to Walmart. There I picked up the cheapest probiotic I could find ($10 for 8 strains and 14 billion active cultures) and a jar of kimchi ($6). On my way to the cash register I decided, Even if this doesn’t work, I’ll go shopping for another product tomorrow. If I have to drop a hundred bucks to find something that works, it’ll be better than being completely wiped out and congested. Back at the house, I started with the probiotic–broke it open, swished it around in my mouth. (Apparently the critters can crawl into your sinuses from your throat, but there’s no evidence they can make it up there from your stomach.) Then I poured some kimchi juice into a small glass, dipped my pinky into it, and swabbed my nostrils; then I gargled and swallowed what was left.

Fingers crossed, I thought.

An hour later, while lying in bed watching old episodes of Soap, I thought, I think I feel better. Still, I wasn’t sure. After all, wishful thinking is a real thing. But two hours later when I was wide awake and couldn’t sleep to save my life, I was certain I had more energy. Yes, I was coming back online. Two hours after that, at five in the morning, my congestion cleared. About six, I finally fell asleep. Thankfully, I’ve felt better all day. My nose has been a little snotty, but I’ve had more energy and haven’t hacked up anything disgusting. This morning I reapplied last night’s treatment and will do so again shortly. Here’s hoping it continues to do the trick.

I know I’ve been talking about this a lot lately and am beginning to sound like The Boy Who Cried My Sinuses Are Healed. Over the last three weeks, I’ve woken up sick/woken up better so many times it’s not even funny. The way I see it, my sinuses are simply having a hard time finding their balance. Still, I’m grateful they’re trying. I’m also grateful there are websites like the ones I mentioned earlier, that people like me have shared their experiences of what works and what doesn’t. Plus, I’m getting to see what a wonder the body is. For years I took antibiotics for sinus infections, and–at best–I’d see improvement in two days. One if I took steroids also. But last night I felt a dramatic shift in only five hours.

Color me amazed!

Of course, I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. But–

No one ever knows what’s going to happen tomorrow.

Today I heard Steve Martin quote Herbert Ross as saying, “Anger has a thousand faces.” For context, Martin was talking about acting, about how some actors–unfortunately–do what’s called “indicating,” which would be, say, smiling like a damn fool to let the audience know your character is happy or shouting (OR TYPING IN ALL CAPITAL LETTERS) to let them know you’re angry. But obviously, these aren’t the only faces these emotions have. We’ve all seen talented actors, or even friends and family, be terse, frustrated, sarcastic, quiet, or overly nice, and thought, Oh shit, they’re about to blow their top. In Martin’s words, “Emotions come out so convoluted.”

I’ve been chewing on this statement all day. Emotions come out so convoluted. First, is that true or what? Second, I think it’s funny that we can quickly and accurately pick up on the subtle emotions of actors and other people, but that we’re often oblivious to what’s going on within ourselves. For example, for years I told myself that I wasn’t bothered by other people’s poor or rude behavior and that I didn’t mind bending over backwards to help people who were (from my current viewpoint) obviously taking advantage of me. But since starting therapy five years ago, I’ve gotten very clear about the fact that, indeed, I was bothered. More specifically, and quite rightly, I was angry–PISSED OFF!–about a number of relationships and situations in my life.

“Better to be pissed off than pissed on,” my dad always says.

When you stand in your truth, you’re often standing alone.

Thankfully, I’ve made a lot of headway in recognizing and doing something about my emotions. Because that’s the deal, that’s why we cover them up–once you recognize them, you’ve got to do something about them. And that means setting boundaries, and THAT means changing relationships. And that’s not always fun. Which is why, I think, we shove down and shut off our emotions. Because we don’t really want to feel and respond to them. We don’t want to deal with the fall out. The fall out of standing in your truth. Because when you stand in your truth, you’re often standing alone. And nobody wants to be alone. So we put up with more crap than we have to.

I’ve said before that one of the “benefits” to being sick with sinus infections is that it’s given me an opportunity to feel frustrated and vulnerable. And not that I think I get sinus infections strictly because I’ve shoved those feelings down for twenty years, but I think that plays a part. I think sinus infections could be “a face” of my emotions. But lately I’ve been working on welcoming all my emotions, on really feeling them so they don’t have to come out all convoluted. Sinus infections aside, I don’t like my anger coming out as passive aggressiveness or upset stomachs. At least primarily. I’d rather have it come out as an honest conversation. I have a problem. This isn’t working for me anymore. Fuck off, Alice.

Your emotions are your truth.

Recently someone offered me a job opportunity–for experience, not money. And whereas part of me knew I didn’t want to do it (because I’m worth what I charge), another part of me felt beholden to the person who was offering. But after discussing the situation with my therapist, it became clear that my first loyalty is always to my inner self, not someone else’s outer self. This has been one of the biggest benefits of going to therapy–it’s helped me get clear about what I want and don’t want. It’s put me back in touch with my truth. Not that I didn’t have my truth before, I just wasn’t in touch with it. You CAN’T be in touch with your truth when you’re not in touch with your emotions; your emotions ARE your truth.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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