On Being Under Pressure (Blog #716)

What to say, what to say? Today has been mostly typical. I had eggs for breakfast. I read a book. My dad and I went to work out. I ate a salad for lunch (woo). The salad came from Braum’s. While there, I walked through their grocery section, which was filled with ice cream, milk, cookies, and everything else that’s delicious but makes your ass fatter. Believe it or not, I didn’t buy anything. Later, while munching on the salad, all I could think was that it tasted like a good decision–unremarkable, like cardboard. At least compared to a half-gallon of cookies and creme. But my pants fit, so that’s something.

This evening I went to a local brewery to hear my friend Donny and his band, The Wren Boys, play Irish music for St. Patrick’s Day, which is tomorrow. I’d planned on taking a nap this evening, but when I saw Donny’s group was playing, I decided to get out of the house. They’re always fun, and tonight was no exception. Plus, I ran into two other friends of mine, one of whom joined the band for one of their numbers. She’s apparently learning to play the whistle pipe, which in my opinion sounds like something out of a fairy tale and is absolute magic.

Here’s a video of Donny playing the pipe. Notice how all three of the guys keep time with their feet differently. This fascinates me and is something I’m going to try to remember the next time I think my way of doing something is the right way. There is no right way. There’s only a different way.

After Donny and the guys finished playing, Donny and I chatted in the parking lot. I said the last few months had been challenging because of my knee injury, but that they had also taught me a lot, like how to be more patient and compassionate with myself and others. “As frustrating as the situation has been,” I said, “I’ve grown.” Then Donny said he’d heard lobsters shed their shells, which are inflexible, because they’re uncomfortable. In other words, if they want to grow, they have to let go, and it’s their discomfort that alerts them to this fact. Personally, I hate that life works like this, but this has been my experience a hundred times. Pressure is what causes us to mature. At some point you think, I can’t live like this any longer.

Speaking of pressure, my dad just dropped two glasses on the kitchen floor, and they completely shattered. I was sitting at the kitchen table (where I am now) when it happened, and it was absolutely glorious. It was like watching a snowball hit a wall. Kersplat! The glass flew in every direction, including mine. It really was beautiful. Now it’s past midnight, Dad and I just swept up the broken glass, and he’s running the vacuum cleaner. I’m still at the kitchen table and have a headache. Ugh. It’s difficult to concentrate. I’m not sure where I’m going with this. This is the difficult thing about being under pressure, about growing. Rarely if ever can you see what’s coming next. Consequently, you have to let go of your old shell, your old life, on faith. When what’s familiar to you shatters like glass, you have to trust that you can start from scratch and be okay.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We can hang on and put everything safely in its place, and then at some point, we’re forced to let go.

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Ripped from a Page (Blog #138)

This afternoon I went to physical therapy, something I’ve been doing on an almost weekly basis since someone slammed into the back of my car a month and a half ago and turned me into a real-life bobblehead doll. Honestly, physical therapy itself been going great. A couple of weeks ago I got moved from twice a week to once a week, and today I got moved to “almost done,” which means I only need to go back if I feel like it during the next month. That being said, when I walked in today, the therapist said that my posture was “almost perfect,” that my left shoulder was “a bit” high and my head was turned “slightly” to the right.

Well, shit.

Of course, part of me is thrilled with the progress (or whatever), but a bigger part of me is “a bit” stressed out and “slightly” terrified that I’m not–well–perfect. Maybe that’s my perfectionist talking. It’s difficult to say.

Yesterday I started making a dream board, also known as a vision board. It’s one of my 101 creativity assignments, and it involves collecting pictures and phrases from magazines that represent dreams I’d like to come true. (If anyone has a teeny bopper magazine filled with Zac Efron photos, please drop it in the mail to my address.) So this afternoon I went to the library, and while upstairs streaming an episode of Will (the new TV series about young–and hot, let’s not forget hot–William Shakespeare), I searched for dream board additions in some of the free magazines I found downstairs.

When I was in junior high, I worked my ass off on an insect collection–you know the kind where you stick a pin through a dragonfly (that you caught with the lid of your parent’s barbecue grill) and another pin through a tiny piece of paper that says “dragonfly” along with the scientific name. Well, it really was great, since I’ve always been a rule follower and extremely anal retentive. HOWEVER, I got marked off four points (for a total of 96 percent) because the edges of my paper weren’t completely straight, since I’d creased the paper on the side of a table and torn it rather than using scissors. At the time, I was devastated. Looking back, I wish I’d known enough to look my teacher right in the eye and say, “Bitch please.”

Obviously, the event stuck with me. I mean, that was over twenty years ago, and I still can’t help but wonder if my life would have turned out differently if I’d gotten those four extra points. Now that I think about it, I’ve wasted a lot of time on perfectionism, which my therapist says is just another name for fear (fear of not good enough, fear of rejection). This is something I’ve been working on–letting go of being perfect–so when the instructions for the dream board said to tear (literally tear) out whatever I wanted to add to my board, it honestly felt great to rip, rip, rip the magazine pages apart and see all those jagged edges. Fuck you, 100 percent.

After gawking at young–and hot, let’s not forget hot–William Shakespeare and working on the dream board, I ran into one of my former students with whom I always have fabulous conversations. When I talked about the blog (as I tend to do), my friend referred to my daily self-reflection as “encountering yourself,” which I think is the perfect (there’s that word again) phrase and something everyone should make an effort to do before they die.

Encounter yourself.

Before I left the library I signed up for the online course I mentioned yesterday about healing your emotional wounds. I’ll let you know how it goes, but one of the ideas presented in the lesson today was that the two natural responses to having a wound are shielding (for protection) and soothing (for healing). The guy teaching the course, Artie Wu, says that shields can show up as anger, people pleasing, and–get this–perfectionism. Soothing can show up as drugs and alcohol, food, or working or using media too much. (I wonder if binge watching hot Shakespeare counts.) None of these responses are bad in and of themselves, but the question to ask is whether the behavior hurts more than it helps. In my case, if I’m going to get real about it, the idea is that perfectionism is a way to avoid criticism (you’re not good enough) and engender praise (you’re the best boy ever). And whereas there’s nothing wrong with that strategy, it does come with a lot of baggage, like the inability to relax with crooked pictures on the wall or walk out the fucking door without every hair on my head just so.

This evening I went to hear my friend Donny play at Core Brewing Company in Fort Smith. He and some of his friends have a band called The Wren Boys, and they’re currently playing every Tuesday night. (Come join the fun.) Here’s a video from their set tonight.

While the band played, Donny’s wife, Vicki, and I discussed the idea of being playful, and as I’ve thought more about it, being playful–curious–seems to be the opposite of perfectionism. Just watching Donny and his friends, it’s the most laid back thing–off the cuff, unrehearsed–fun. And isn’t that the point–to life? I mean, where does it say that all your edges have to be straight (or even that you do)? Maybe this means that one of my shoulders will always be “a bit” higher than the other, my gaze may always be “slightly” off, but clearly I’m the only one taking points away from myself for having “almost perfect” posture. But that’s changing. Honestly, the more I encounter myself, the more I realize that all my edges are torn–almost as if something bigger than myself had ripped me from a page and dreamed that I’d come true.

[Seriously, if you have any old magazines (with or without Zac Efron) you’d like to get rid of, I’d love to have them.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Healing is never a straight line.

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