On Being Caught Up (Blog #1023)

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A few quick things before I have to clean up and go out for the evening (I do have a life)–

1. On mouth taping

A couple months ago I wrote about ways to stimulate/activate your vagus nerve, one way being listening to classical music. Well, the book I mentioned, Activate Your Vagus Nerve: Unleash Your Body’s Natural Ability to Overcome Gut Sensitivities, Inflammation, Brain Fog, Autoimmunity, Anxiety, Depression by Dr. Navaz Habib, also suggested mouth taping, mouth taping being literally taping your mouth shut wile you sleep. The idea being that we were intended to breathe through our noses, and that this is a way to keep your body calm. Our mouths, it seems, were only intended as a backup system, a way to get more air in times of emergency (like when you’re stuffed up, or being chased by a lion or your ex). And whereas I didn’t try mouth taping a couple months ago, I didn’t forget about it either.

All this to say that I gave it a whirl last night. Took some surgical tape and fastened my mouth closed. And whereas it was a little awkward at first, it ended up being fine, just fine. Indeed, I had a wonderful night’s sleep, and despite the fact that I’ve been struggling with sinus issues for the last few weeks, woke up this morning with significantly LESS post nasal drip and “junk.” This is supposedly one of the points or benefits to nose breathing.

So I’m going to mouth tape again tonight.

2. On loving what is

Byron Katie, in her book Loving What Is, says that reality is always kinder than our story about it. For example, this morning while preparing to make breakfast, I dropped an egg on the kitchen floor. It just slipped, well, practically jumped right out of my hands. At which point gravity took over. And whereas normally I’d go into A STORY like “how awful this is” and “look what I’ve done wrong,” this time I didn’t. This time I was present, present to reality. And, y’all, it was like slow motion. I could see the egg slip from my fingers, and it was this beautiful thing. Down it went closer and closer the floor. And then it hit. SPLAT! Yolk and pieces of egg shell flew everywhere. It was absolutely glorious, and I can’t tell you how glad I was to be there to witness it. Talk about a fun way to start the day. I’m being serious. It was like watching an action film. For free.

Of course, I had to clean things up. But again, absent any internal bitching, cleaning up a broken egg (or relationship) isn’t a big deal. Haven’t we all cleaned up messes before?

3. On being turned into a mouse

Last night and this afternoon I read the celebrated juvenile fiction novel The Witches by Roald Dahl, the story of a young boy and his grandmother/guardian who have a serious run-in with The Grand High Witch of All the World. And whereas I don’t mean to spoil anything for anyone, she turns the boy into a mouse. (Sorry, but the book’s been out for over thirty years. Catch up.) Anyway, along the lines of loving what is, the boy isn’t bothered by the fact that he’s a mouse. Indeed, he says it never occurs to him TO BE BOTHERED. Rather, he’s excited that he can run fast, hide in small places, swing by his tail, and–here’s the real win–stop going to school.

Talk about a kid who’s caught up (to reality).

Now, the boy was obviously telling himself a story about his reality. But rather than saying, “This sucks,” he was saying, “This is beyond fabulous.” More and more I’m learning to tell myself this second story whenever something “bad” happens, whenever I drop and egg or wake up with post nasal drip. Not that I LOVE waking up sick, but I’m at least learning not to HATE it. Because it gives me a chance to rest. Because it gives me a chance to listen to my body. Because it gives me a chance to try new things (that might help). Why NOT have a positive perspective about our challenges? After all, we can’t change THE FACTS (the egg is on the floor, today I woke up sick, today I woke up a mouse), but we CAN CHANGE what we think about them. We can change the story we tell ourselves.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can’t pick and choose what you receive from life, and you can’t always accurately label something as bad.

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I Like This Person (Blog #713)

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Well crap. Yesterday I said my sinuses were on the upswing, but I apparently spoke too soon. I hate it when that happens. This morning I woke up hot, and although I don’t have a fever, I’ve felt crummy all day, low energy. Now it’s six in the evening, and I’m trying my level best to get all my “chores” finished so that I can take a nap and not have to worry about doing anything when I wake up. I’m hoping a nap will help, but sometimes sleep is the worst, especially with sinus problems. It’s just a matter of gravity. Everything runs to your head.

Ick.

I’ve spent the afternoon trying all my home remedies. I thought the kimchi I’ve been using was helping, but it’s possible that it’s out of date and no longer contains the bacteria I need. But working from the wisdom of “there’s more than one way to skin a cat,” I’ve been taking a few other supplements, as well as drinking a lot of fluids. And whereas part of me is terrified and thinks I’m going to end up being sick for months like I was last year, another part of me is rational and thinks, Just give it a few days before you start freaking out. A lot can happen in a few days.

Yeah, that first part of me responds, you could get the flu, like that friend of yours got. Remember her? You were standing right beside each other!

Let’s talk about something else before I scare myself to death.

Earlier this week I began the long process of going back and re-reading all my blog posts. And whereas I initially read them in random order, last night I went back and started from post number one. Oh my gosh, y’all, I completely spilled my guts. After decades of being silent or indirect about my sexuality and almost everything else in my personal life, I just put it out there. You can read it for yourself, but I basically said, “I’m here, I’m queer, and I like waffles.” Reading the post last night, I thought, Well, that was brave. Recently when I was being hard on myself for not having a real job “like everybody else,” my therapist said, “If you were looking objectively at yourself from the outside, what would you say?” I paused then replied, “I’d say I really admire that person for following his dream. He’s got a lot of balls.”

“Thank you,” she replied.

Being courageous means taking action despite being afraid.

I don’t mean to toot my own horn–look how brave I am! But reading my first post and answering my therapist’s question really did come as a shock to me. I spend so much time worrying and being afraid, about my health and life in general, that I rarely if ever stop to consider that I am simultaneously being courageous. Because I do think fear and courage can exist at the same time. Indeed, one must first be fearful before they can be courageous. This is why no one ever says they courageously put their shoes on. Who’s afraid of putting on their shoes? No, being courageous means taking action despite being afraid.

After I read my first post, I read several others. Posts two through nine to be specific. For the most part, this was like looking through an old scrapbook. I thought, Oh yeah, I remember that. I laughed, I cried, I noticed a few typos. I did not, however, get self-critical, as I often do when, for example, looking back at old dance videos. Rather, I thought, I’m proud of this.

Later, while hanging up laundry, another thought popped into my head. It’s kind of hard to explain, but it was like I was thinking about myself as if I were someone else, from an objective viewpoint like my therapist suggested. Anyway, I thought, I like this person.

I like this person because he’s brave.
I like this person because he’s smart.
I like this person because he’s funny. (I’m pretty funny.)
I like this person because he’s a handsome devil.

But seriously. I like this person. This really was a big deal. Not a revelation, per say, but a significant acknowledgment. I like me. Not that I DISLIKED myself before last night, but I’ve spent a lot of time disliking certain things about myself (from the top of my head to the bottoms of my feet), and that’s essentially the same thing. So it was an important reminder that I actually like and enjoy a million things about me, regardless of how healthy or sick I am, regardless of how big my waistline is. Now I’m reminding myself that whenever I’m being self-critical I’m talking about somebody I like, somebody I care about–and that’s not okay.

So knock it off, me

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Being scared isn’t always an invitation to run away. More often than not, it’s an invitation to grow a pair and run toward.

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