What’s Small Is Big (Blog #736)

Today’s thoughts–

1. On live videos

Last weekend, in order to celebrate two full years of daily blogging, I did a live video on Facebook in which I shared an essay I wrote a couple years ago called Letting Go of the Big House. I wrote it in order to help me process letting go of most of my material possessions. And whereas normally when I do a live video I share it in my blog the next day, this time I didn’t. For whatever reason, it didn’t seem like the time. So I’m sharing it now for anyone who’s interested and may have missed it. As my phone died while I was reading the last paragraph of the essay and I had to start over, it’s broken up into two videos. The first one is 19 minutes, and the second one is five. Also, for anyone interested in previous live videos and other “story time” essays, click here.

2. On emotions

Today I’ve been awash with emotions. In this moment I feel fine, but five minutes ago I was crying. This I’m sure is the direct result of my recently taking a good, hard look at the traumas in my life and the beliefs, emotions, thoughts, and behaviors of mine that have grown out of those traumas. I’ve poked the bear. And whereas my first reaction to feeling, say, sad, nervous, afraid, and alone is to reach for a pack of cigarettes or a piece of chocolate cake, I’ve been reminding myself today that this is WHY I’ve poked the bear–in order to actually feel the emotions that I’ve consistently shoved down for, oh, thirty fucking years. So this is good news. (Knock, knock.) They’re here. Granted, it’s not fun, sitting with the uncomfortable. But I know I’m strong enough to handle whatever shows up. There’s plenty of room here. I’m tired of running away from myself.

By the way–

Running away from yourself isn’t possible.

3. On pet peeves

Last night I went out for drinks and live music with my friends Justin, Ashley, and Joseph. It was lovely. That being said, when I paid my ticket with cash, the waitress did two things that absolutely piss me off every time they happen. I’ve probably mentioned them before. First, she asked, “Do you want your change?” Um, it’s MY CHANGE. If I want to leave a tip, I will, but don’t assume anything. Granted, I’ve never worked as a server, but I feel like a better way to handle situations like this would be to say, “I’ll be right back with your change.” Then if I don’t want it, I can say so. Sure, keep that six dollars on a thirteen-dollar tab. You’re worth it.

The second thing she did–and this is the one that always sends me into orbit–was to bring me incorrect change. That is, she owed me $6.38, and she brought back $6.00. Um, bitch, where’s my 38 cents?! Now, I know that for a lot of people this isn’t a big deal, since they’d leave it as a tip anyway. But there was a clear assumption on the waitress’s part that that money belonged to her or that, for some reason, I wouldn’t want it. Either way, she took the power of what should have been my choice (it was MY MONEY) away from me.

I can’t tell you the number of times this same situation has happened in the past. Always at restaurants. Seriously, what the hell? Could any other business get away with skimming off the top when giving customers their change, something that rightfully belongs to them? No. When I had my dance studio, I would have been run out of town if every time someone gave me a twenty-dollar bill for a ten-dollar dance class I gave them back a five. Because let’s not mince words–that’s stealing.

Anyway, I’ve historically handled this situation in a number of different ways. I’ve confronted waiters and waitresses directly, talked to their managers, and written letters to owners. Believe it or not, I’ve even let it go and said nothing. Last night I tried a new strategy–I left a note on my bill that simply explained what was true for me. “I didn’t leave a tip because you didn’t give me all of my change.” More and more, it’s important to me to be able to–in the moment–express my truth clearly and succinctly. Because I could have made excuses for her, but my truth was (and is) that I was pissed off. She’d crossed a line. And the only way for me to honor myself (that is, to not do any further harm to myself) was to say something.

4. On honoring yourself

Hang on. I’m not done with this topic. I know I’m on a soapbox, but I think it’s important. Recently I was reminded that The Divine (as in, life, God, or the universe, not Bette Midler) works in paradox. (Bette Midler works in sequins.) In other words, what’s small is big, and what seems insignificant is the most significant. This truth, applied to The Great Incorrect Change Incident of 2019, means that my pet peeve, whereas seemingly just a little irritation, like a chigger bite, is actually a big deal and–for me–holds the key to some type of healing or growth.

I’ll try to explain.

A few weeks ago I heard about something called fractal psychotherapy, an idea promoted by David Burns, one of the big names in Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. I’ve only listened to one podcast about the theory, but as I understand it, it proposes that you can take one little seemingly small incident–an argument in a relationship, for example–and that small incident will be representative of all the problems in that relationship. Like how any piece of a hologram contains within it all the information for the entire hologram. I’ve said before that our emotions are here to help us, to communicate with us, to let us know when something is right or wrong. In last night’s situation, my emotions let me know that a boundary had been crossed. So fractal psychotherapy would say that although it’s “just a pet peeve of mine,” the issue of boundaries and speaking my truth is an-across-the-board thing for me. Again, you can’t run away from yourself.

You take yourself everywhere you go.

Personally, I’m becoming clearer and clearer about what my issues are. I think life is constantly trying to alert us to them. Not to rub our faces in them–like, look, you can’t speak up for yourself, you wuss–but so we can empower ourselves and stop having those issues. That’s what I think it all boils down to–self-empowerment. I said earlier that the waitress took my power of choice away from me, and I imagine we’ve all had this happen to us in small or large ways throughout our lives. I’m talking about being a victim. But to be clear, I’m not talking about staying a victim. I’m talking about, even if it starts with confronting a waitress, listening to your emotions, finding and using your voice, and taking your power back.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Rejecting yourself is what really hurts.

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On Humble Beginnings (Blog #634)

It’s an hour before midnight on Christmas Eve, and I’ve spent most the day cuddled up in my favorite chair, reading. For me, today has been like most any other, since our family stopped celebrating Christmas over twenty years ago. It’s a long story. Part of me wishes I could go back and rewrite it, since I think traditions are important and my thinking around this particular tradition has changed a lot. But, of course, it’s hard to wind back the clock. Plus, once you’ve lost the magic of something, it’s difficult to regain it.

But not impossible, perhaps.

Really, I’m fine with this. Sure, when I see pictures of others celebrating with friends and loved ones and opening presents, a part of me misses that. But I’ve been with my family all day long, and I haven’t had to spend a dime on presents. Which is good, since I don’t have a dime. But I do miss the sparkle around the season. I used to adore decorating the tree and putting up lights on the outside of the house. Really, looking back at how I’d climb on the roof and meticulously unscrew and re-screw every bulb until they were perfectly arranged–green, red, green, red–someone should have told me a long time ago that I was a homosexual. Anyway, the last few years I’ve made an effort to participate and celebrate, if only a little. This year I helped a friend decorate the outside of their house. I was in a holiday variety show.

Ho. Ho. Ho.

I think one of the hardest things to do is accept your life both as it is and how it’s been. Especially in today’s world of social media, it’s so easy to compare yourself to others. Just scroll through your phone for a minute–one minute!–and you can see everything you’re not in terms of looks, friends, prestige, and holiday celebrations. But to really sit with your story, with all your humble beginnings, this is a tough thing to do. My mom’s been depressed since I was a child. Our home burned down when I was four. My dad went to prison. As if this weren’t enough to make us different, we stopped celebrating Christmas, and (years later) I came out of the closet.

This evening my sister, her husband, and their boys went to a friend’s house for dinner. A friend of theirs and their family ended up being there–because their home burned down tonight. The family was okay, but their pets died. This went on while my parents and I went out to eat at Chili’s and I shoved down a plateful of fajitas, two beers, and a chocolate molten lava cake. Granted, it wasn’t extravagant in terms of “what’s expected,” but we were together. Anyway, this is the world we live in. The worst things happen alongside the best things.

Back home from dinner, I returned to my reading chair. After my sister and her crew got home, my older nephew, who spends most his time in his own world and really isn’t into socializing, crawled up in my chair and read his comic book alongside me. Didn’t say a word. Just snuggled up between one armrest and me and turned his pages. It was the sweetest thing; I wouldn’t trade the thirty minutes he sat there for the world. Who’s to say if this would have happened in a living room full of packages? I mean, I’ve seen my nephew around presents.

It wouldn’t have happened.

Yesterday my friend Bonnie gave me a pack of positive affirmation cards called AFFIRMATORS!, and they’re my new favorite thing. There are over fifty cards in the pack, and the idea is that you shuffle them “like a three year-old” and pull one out at random. Well, get this shit. Three times today (out of four) I pulled out the same card–Magic. I’m including a picture of it here, but the idea is that life is a great mystery, and we’re surrounded by serendipity and wonderful, inexplicable happenings. Anyway, on a day that used to be filled with magic for me, during a time in my life that’s so difficult, it was the perfect reminder that miracles can occur in the most unlikely of places and circumstances.

Just after I pulled this card for the first time, I got a text message from a friend from high school that I haven’t talked to in–I don’t know–five or ten years. I guess they were last-minute shopping; they wanted to buy some dance lessons. This ended up being the perfect thing. They got a gift to give to someone they care about, and I got some cash (which I really needed). Anyway, I kept hearing my therapist’s voice in my head, since a couple weeks ago, after having injured my knee, I was bemoaning my financial prospects and suggested I could liquidate a few things. “Naw,” my therapist said, “let the universe do something.” And so it did. Talk about a Christmas miracle.

Magic.

In other good news, the skin rash that I’ve had for the last few weeks is finally getting better. Like, not just a little; a lot. I’ll spare you the details, but I figured out the right cream to use on it. Maybe this seems like a small matter, but when life’s knocked you down over and over (and over) again, it’s really delightful to be on the receiving end of a win. And in light of the fact that I’ll be having knee surgery in a day and a half, it’s nice knowing my body isn’t completely falling apart and that something’s on the mend. It’s good to be reminded that with a little persistence (and not a little magic) things can improve.

God’s got a big thing for humble beginnings.

Despite the fact that I’m not currently surrounded by the trappings of Christmas, I keep thinking about the mythological image of Jesus being born in a manger. I love that part of the story, since it reminds me that God’s got a big thing for humble beginnings. Shit, I can only imagine what Joseph and Mary must have felt like that night–worn out, tired, pregnant, no room in the inn. Surely one of them must have thought, God, I could use a break tonight. I could use a little magic here. Personally, I would have been pissed. Especially if I were Mary. I would have been looking everywhere for Gabriel, and when I found him I would have said, “You mean to tell me that first The Divine knocks me up, and now he wants me to deliver his kid in a barn?!” But I’m reminded tonight that The Divine is into this, into stories that don’t make sense from a human perspective, into “what seems small is big.”

With these things in mind, I’m doing my best to honor my story, including my past and present, as it is and not as I wish it were. Because no matter how humble or challenging and no matter how it compares to another’s, this is my life–my one, unique, and precious life. And no matter what, being alive is a gift. No matter how dark the night or bleak the circumstances, if you’re alive, you’re alive, and you’re story’s not over. And who’s to say what The Divine will make of your humble beginnings?

Who’s to say what magic lies ahead?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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