I’ll Take the Slow Grind (Blog #256)

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Last night I listened to an interview with Bob Walter, the man who runs the Joseph Campbell Foundation. (You know I’m a big Joseph Campbell fan.) Well, apparently at one point Bob and Joe started a publishing company to get Joe’s message out, and Bob had to be a little pushy. “No one is interested in this stuff,” Joe said.

“You mean you get discouraged?” Bob said.

“Of course I get discouraged,” Joe said. “I’m human.”

This afternoon I saw my therapist, and the collection of stickers on her laptop continues to grow. Since I last saw her, she’s added a “no texting” sticker, as well as one of a skeleton sitting at a computer that says, “The Internet–Please enjoy everybody’s opinion.” Also, she had two new rings on her fingers, both of which were serious bling and could easily anchor a medium-sized boat in the middle of a hurricane. Naturally, I was jealous. To be clear, I’m not talking about diamonds–this was straight up costume jewelry. “Absolutely fabulous,” I said.

“You know, I’m trying some new things,” she said.

Most of our time today was spent talking about personal change, about how it’s not as easy as everyone, all the people who write books, make it out to be. This is one of my pet peeves lately, that self-help material, vitamin shops, and online yoga classes aren’t more up front about the fact that while helpful, they’re not a panacea. Rather–and I get that everyone’s trying to make a dollar–they make it sound like if you buy their product, you’ll be eternally happy, find the perfect sex-hungry partner, and have wrinkle-free skin. I can’t tell you how long I bought into this crap. I still struggle with it. Who doesn’t want a magic bullet?

“You’re not the only one who’s been given that impression,” my therapist said. “But transformation is real fucking hard. It’s the slow grind. There’s no other way.”

The–slow–grind. No kidding. That’s been my experience. I’ve spent more time in the self-help, psychology, philosophy, and spirituality aisles in the bookstore than anyone else I know–I have a rockstar therapist I’ve seen consistently for over three years–these are just facts. And if there’s something I could pass on from all my time and effort, it’d be this–a better life is completely possible, but it’s a long, tough ride to get there. (Saddle up, partner.) I realize this isn’t what people want to hear–I don’t want to hear it–but it’s the truth. “It just takes patience,” my therapist says. “And patience is a bitch.”

After therapy I had lunch with my friend Ray. I haven’t seen him in maybe a month, and it was truly a shot in the arm. We laughed, then laughed some more. For a while Ray and I talked about getting discouraged, the slow grind, and being patient as change occurs. Ray said he thought a big element of success was simply continuing to show up–to therapy, a support group, even a dance class. Again, I guess this is the idea that change and transformation come in little pieces. Rarely is something a “one and done.”

Being authentic isn’t for sissies.

I can’t tell you how much I hate this–little pieces, being patient, all of it. I wish transformation were easier, and, like Joe, I often get discouraged with this path. Being authentic isn’t for sissies. I get on the internet, read everybody’s opinion, and it’s easy to feel as if I’m doing something wrong. People comment online and send me private messages, tell me I’d be better off if I did something different with my hair, wore other clothes, didn’t cuss so much, or smiled more. I mention this because it’s something else most teachers don’t talk about. They tell you to be authentic–wear gaudy jewelry if you want to!–but they don’t tell you that the more true to yourself you are, the more pushback you get, often from people you care about.

I don’t mind saying this sucks.

I realize this take on the long, tough ride of transformation and the challenges of being authentic isn’t exactly encouraging. It wouldn’t sound great on an infomercial. But wait, there’s more–it gets worse before it gets better! But I wouldn’t be sharing these opinions if they weren’t my honest experience and if I didn’t absolutely believe that all the hard work and all the continuing to show up were worth it. Because I do. Sure, there are days when I get discouraged and feel like I’m going nowhere. I’m human too. But I’ll take my worst day now over my best day five years ago because now I’m being real. I’m closer to myself every day. And if the slow grind is what it takes to get me closer to myself, I’ll take the slow grind.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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When we expect great things, we see great things.

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Some Days You Don’t Dance with Patrick Swayze (Blog #255)

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Yesterday I drove to Oklahoma to see my friend Marina, who’s ninety-five and an original Rosie the Riveter, in the Tulsa Christmas Parade. She was the grand marshal. As I understand it, grand marshals often lead a parade, but yesterday a giant floating dump truck led the one here. Not exactly the holiday spirit if you ask me, but I guess it was because the waste department sponsored the whole ordeal. So there’s that. Anyway, after the dump truck were a bunch of hot firemen (go tell it on the mountain), then there was Marina. Later Marina told me that growing up she wanted to be a comedian, but her mom said, “You’re going to be a lady.” So at seventeen Marina started working at Boeing, making planes for the war. Talk about a lady! You should have seen Marina yesterday–she was too cute–she wore the actual overalls she used to inspect planes in and had red do-rag tied around her head.

I attended the parade with one of my friends from high school, Kara, as well as my swing dancing friends Gregg and Rita. We all dressed warmly, but I personally wore ski pants and thick wool socks. Y’all, this may need to be my daily outfit until the end of March. My legs and feet are normally constantly cold, but yesterday they were so warm and toasty. Still, it was freezing at the parade, especially when we stepped out of the sun. As soon as Marina passed by, and shortly after we all got hit in our heads with a bunch of hard candy, my crew decided to call it quits. Gregg and Rita went home, and Kara and I went to a new bookstore in town (Magic City Books) because we both love to read. And whereas my willpower has been nonexistent with reference to food this weekend (I’ve eaten a lot–a lot–of carbs), it was intact at the bookstore–I didn’t buy a single thing. (It was a Christmas miracle.)

Last night Gregg and Rita and I attended the weekly swing dance they helped start and continue to help with. Marina showed up, and I can’t tell you what a fun time it was, dancing with people you love and care about, people who love and care about you in return. Plus, all my friends are entertaining. Marina said, “Everyone I wanted to dance with died. I wanted to dance with Fred Astaire–he died. And Patrick Swayze–he died too. I saw Dirty Dancing three times. I couldn’t get over him.”

“Well, who could?” I said.

Later Marina said although she didn’t get to dance with Patrick Swayze, she did see him dancing at a nightclub in Brooklyn once. I said, “That must have been a sight.” Marina said one of her friends that evening commented she didn’t think he was that good of a dancer. Patrick Frickin’ Swayze, and this lady was all I’ve-had-better. Talk about being hard to impress. I thought I had high standards. Anyway, then the conversation turned to the time Marina introduced The Rat Pack before they performed, about how there’s a picture of it–somewhere. I nearly fell out of my chair, just like I nearly fell off the sofa this morning when Rita told me she used to dance with Disney on Parade. Well, that much I knew, but today I found out she apparently performed with Cathy Rigby in a little production called Peter Pan. Y’all, I’m such a Broadway fangirl, I nearly spewed my coffee across the room. Of course, I tried to appear calm.

“Oh yeah, I think I’ve heard of her.”

Most of today has been spent telling stories like these, breaking my food rules, and thinking about how I’m going to tell my therapist tomorrow that I only took four naps this week instead of five. Shit happens, lady. Some days you don’t dance with Patrick Swayze. Still, I’m looking forward to sharing how I’ve moved my blog writing to the afternoons, the way it’s taken a lot of pressure off. I mean, the pressure’s still there, but it’s better.

Currently it’s six in the evening, and I’m in Gregg and Rita’s office. I can see Christmas lights through the window blinds, Tracy Chapman is playing on my phone, and these things make me smile. Rita’s been taking a class through Pepperdine about how the brain works, and she said that this is one of the things necessary for being creative and coming up with ideas–being slightly happy. Just slighty is enough, so long as you’re not miserable. To me this is really good news and means that you don’t have to be perfect in order for life to work. It means that four naps may not be five, but it’s still huge improvement; that any pressure off is good pressure off; that you can get hit in the head with hard candy and still enjoy the parade.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Perhaps this is what bravery really is--simply having run out of better options, being so totally frustrated by the outside world that all you can do is go within.

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A Little Disruption, Please (Blog #254)

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Y’all aren’t going to believe this. It’s 9:30 in the morning, and not only am I awake, I’m blogging. Jesus, keep me close to the cross. I’ve actually been awake and mostly functional for an hour and a half. Yesterday evening I got super tired, maybe because of all the antihistamines I’m taking, maybe because God didn’t intend for us to be awake during winter. Either way, I was in bed by midnight. Still, despite the fact that my body said go to bed, I couldn’t fall asleep. What the frick, body–haven’t you ever heard of the boy who cried wolf?

Anyway, I think I finally drifted off around three.

I’m up early today because I’m going out-of-town to see some friends. I’ll report more later, but I really need to be on the road in a couple hours. Considering I still have to eat breakfast, shower, and pack, this blog really needs to be quick. I love it and everything, but I honestly don’t want to pick it up again until tomorrow. But aside from the pressure of writing–believe it or not–I’m enjoying being up so early. Y’all, the sun is shining. It’s quiet. I can hear myself think–or at least I could if I were awake enough to do so. Earlier I practiced chi kung. My teacher is always saying, “Relax more. Now–relax more.” Well, for someone like me, this is a lot of pressure, but this morning it actually worked. Apparently relaxing is easier to do when your brain is still sleeping.

A couple years ago I had a yoga teacher tell me, “Your new favorite pose is rabbit.” Well, since I hadn’t done rabbit pose before, I pretty much forgot about it. Maybe I tried it once or twice. But for whatever reason, I thought about it this morning. I’ve had this pain in my shoulders that won’t go away, and I thought, Let’s give that a whirl. Oh my gosh–first–it’s the most awkward thing ever. You have to sit on your knees, grab your heels, put the top of you head on the floor, try to keep your forehead by your knees, then lift your hips. (Right.) All that being said–wow–it exactly stretches the muscles that have been a problem for the last six months. Finally.

My therapist told me recently that she thought it was funny that my blog was called Me and My Therapist, since she doesn’t introduce herself as a therapist. “I think of myself as a disrupter,” she said. “I disrupt the untrue. I challenge maladaptive behaviors and people’s erroneous perceptions of the world.” Having gone through this process, I now think of therapy like rabbit pose–it sucks. I mean, at the very least, it’s often uncomfortable as hell. Change is hard for a reason. Of course, whether it’s a pain in your shoulders, a bad relationship, or whatever, that’s uncomfortable too. (Maybe sucks is a better word for your particular situation.) So if a different type of discomfort is the way out of the original problem, then it’s certainly worth the effort. In this sense, perhaps we could all use a little more disruption in our lives.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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A friend’s laughter takes us backward and carries us forward simultaneously.

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Slow Down, Sweetheart (Blog #253)

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Currently I’m waiting for my daily selfie to load. My internet is slow, slow, slow. Last night I had a dream that I’d returned to school, only this time for a visit. After parking, I walked into a classroom. My best friend from high school was there, as was a teacher I didn’t care for. As I walked out of the room, I passed a kid who used to beat me up, stepped over a straight girl who fell in love with me a while back. (Bye, Felicia.) Wanting to go to the office, I ended up outside. There was another teacher I didn’t like far away, and a sort of picnic going on in the courtyard. I woke up when I got to the band. (There was a band.) The dream was uncomfortable because the entire time it felt as if I was walking through mud. Like my present internet speed, I was moving in slow motion. (Slow motion for me.)

I can’t tell you how frustrating it was.

Now it’s three-thirty in the afternoon, and I’m rushing, trying to get through this blog so I can meet my family for my lunch, their dinner. (This happens a lot when you live with senior citizens.) For the last twelve weeks Mom has been getting chemotherapy every Friday, and they always go out to eat afterwards. I’ve only met them a couple times, but today is kind of a big deal, since it’s Mom’s LAST chemotherapy. I mean, she gets to ring a bell! (Apparently it’s a thing.) Anyway, I technically just at breakfast, but I want to celebrate this milestone with my mama. Come on, creativity, come on.

Yesterday I wasn’t in the best mood. If nothing else is going on, this is usually a pretty good indication that I’m not feeling well. True to form, I did have more drainage than normal yesterday, and some of it was green-ish. (It’s gross, I know, but this is the place where I get to be honest.) Anyway, I stepped up the antihistamines, vitamins, and teas, and did another kimchi treatment last night. Y’all, I feel so much better today–less drainage, less color. Again, it’s not a miracle, but it’s close enough. The biggest improvement is that I woke up on the right side of the bed. I was dancing while making breakfast! Yesterday it was the blues, and today it’s Motown.

Things are looking up.

I’m still chewing on the dream I had last night, but my gut says it had it do with patience. In one sense, I know I’ve come a long way, slowly walked through the classroom of life and learned a lot of lessons. The bullies and fruitless relationships are behind me. Still, I’m not wherever it is I’m going (the office). As I said earlier, this is frustrating. In this sense, the dream isn’t a mystery. I constantly look ahead at where I’m not. Every day feels as if I’m not moving fast enough.

There’s a lot of magic around you.

Yesterday on Facebook my sister shared a song by Macklemore and Kesha. The song is called Good Old Days and says, “Some day soon your whole life’s gonna change–you’ll miss the magic of these good old days.” Honestly, I often forget to see the blessings of where I am because I want my life to change–I think it will be better, that I will be happier. I forget that there’s a lot of magic around me (a picnic with a band!), that I get to sleep in, let my body heal and find balance. Not everyone can do that. I forget that I can go out to eat with my parents, be close by while my mom is fighting cancer. Last night we both stayed up late and shared some egg rolls while watching our respective television shows. Who knows how many more times that will happen? So today I’m reminding myself that these truly are magic moments, moments not everyone gets to have, moments that even for me won’t last forever. Slow down, Marcus. Slow down, sweetheart. There’s a lot to enjoy here. And don’t worry, you’ll still get there–wherever that is.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Since one life touches another, we can never really say how far our influence goes. Truly, our story goes on and on in both directions. Truly, we are infinite.

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What Hope Says to Me (Blog #252)

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It’s three in the afternoon, and I’ve been overwhelmed since yesterday. Once I read that was the go-to emotion for Virgos–the feeling of overwhelm. Regardless, I know it’s mine. On the outside I can have things together, but on the inside, it’s like I’m trying to roll a boulder up a mountain, looking at the circumstances of my life like, Well, this is intimidating. For whatever reason, my allergies won’t calm down. It’s as if I have a leaky faucet–in my head. (Does anyone know a good plumber?) Last night I watched a YouTube video by a guy who once had a sinus infection for eight months, so I’m telling myself that 1) I’m not THAT bad off, and 2) I’m not alone. But that doesn’t really help. After all, a boulder on your shoulder is a boulder on your shoulder.

Yesterday I had to choose an insurance plan for next year. That was stressful. What if I picked the wrong one? Also, anything that has to do with money stresses me out, since I’m really not making any right now. This, of course, is mostly my choice. I guess on some level I’ve decided that what I’m learning and doing now are more important than spending the day, I don’t know, making Subway sandwiches and earning a few dollars. Still, I put a lot of pressure on myself. My therapist asked me recently, “How are yo doing with the whole ‘I’m a white man who needs to be productive and earning money constantly’ thing?”

“Yeah, about where I was before,” I said. “So there’s plenty of room for improvement, but look at it this way–that’s job security for you.”

I don’t suppose any one of these problems–allergies, money, what things may come–is that big of a deal in and of itself. Perhaps it’s like picking up a rock and putting it your pocket–one’s not a problem, but if decide to pick up more rocks and start a damn collection, they’re gonna weigh you down. However, now I’m writing, and although some days I think of this blog as a rock in my pocket, I do find that it helps take the weight off, get other things out of my pocket and on to the page. Also, I’m listening to Eva Cassidy, a woman whose voice never fails to make me believe that the world is a possible place to live in. Time is a healer–all hearts that break are put back together again.

Yesterday I got my hair cut–a lot. Honestly, I don’t love short hair in the winter, since I need all the help I can get staying warm. But I dyed my hair a few months ago, and it’s been rather dry and unmanageable lately. My friend and hairdresser, Bekah, said she always knows I’m about to call and schedule a haircut whenever I post a lot of pictures of me wearing a hat. And whereas I hate being so predictable, it is really nice to have people in your life who know you so well. Thinking about all my hair clumped together on Bekah’s floor, I’m reminded that things can change in an instant. One minute you’ve got this problem that’s been driving you crazy forever, and the next it’s being swept away with the flick of a wrist, tossed out with yesterday’s newspapers.

Perhaps this is what hope is, the belief that three months of long hair or even an eight-month sinus infection can quickly come to an end, the belief that your particular allergy can calm down and you’ll breathe easy again one day. To me hope says, “Empty your pockets. Let go of your boulder. Mountains are hard enough to climb without things that overwhelm and weigh you down. Let me overwhelm you instead, let me heal all that is broken inside you, let me so fill you with the belief that life is good that you can’t help but rise to the top.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Healing is never a straight line.

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Letting Go of the Last Three Pounds (Blog #251)

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Well here we are again, writing during the day. Last night I took my therapist-assigned nap, then I couldn’t fall asleep until four in the morning. More than the napping, I think the reason I couldn’t sleep is because my body hasn’t gotten the memo that we’re doing things differently now, that there’s a new sheriff in town. This morning I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, partly because I’m tired, partly because I noticed last night that the body odor that I worked so hard to get rid of has returned. I’m assuming this is because of the medications I was on recently for my sinus infection, but I’m not a biologist. Either way, part of me thinks that I got this figured out once before and can do it again, and another part of me thinks, Oh, for fuck’s sake, I quit.

I woke up this morning to the sound of the phone ring-ring-ringing and the microwave beep-beep-beeping. As if that weren’t annoying enough, my parents’ phone actually announces, rather loudly, the number that’s calling. You have a call from 479-867-5309. Maybe it would be better if the announcer had an Australian accent. Better yet, I’d be more than happy to wake up to the sound of Morgan Freeman’s voice. He could read the phone book to me any day. As it is, today I woke up to the voice of a robot. (Not sexy.) Anyway, now the sun is shining, I’m drinking coffee, and Dad and I are talking about the hot gay guys on Days of Our Lives. (They’re weaving a tangled web.) Additionally, as I’m writing, the soundtrack to the musical Kinky Boots is playing in my ears. So I’m slowly–slowly–working my way out of my bad mood.

Life, it would appear, doesn’t completely suck.

Last week my therapist suggested I watch the television series The Deuce, starring the oh-so-handsome and sexually flexible James Franco, so last night I watched the first two episodes. To be clear, I don’t think my therapist recommended the show for mental health reasons, but rather for entertainment, relaxation, and visual stimulation (James Franco). For all these reasons, I thank her. Y’all, I was completely engrossed. The show is set in New York City in the seventies, and James plays a bartender who works with the mob and serves up a number of colorful hookers. Also, he plays his twin brother, a former baseball star who’s up to his neck in gambling debts. I can’t tell you how delightful this is. Honestly, it reminds me a lot of Hayley Mills in the The Parent Trap or Patty Duke in The Patty Duke Show. You know, except with pimps and prostitutes.

Recently I’ve been toying with the idea of lowing my standards of perfection. For example, for the last twenty years I’ve had it in my head that my ideal weight is 175. Never mind the fact that the only time I weigh that much is after a week-long stomach flu. Honestly, 180 is a better goal. Well, in the last month I’ve gone from 190 to a consistent 183. Since this isn’t my first diet and exercise rodeo, I know I could spend the next three months working on those three pounds, like really putting myself through hell. But as things stand, I’m thirty-seven years old, my stomach is flat, and I wear the same sized jeans I did when I was in high school, so why am I making such a big damn deal about this and everything like it?

You can quit trying so hard and still get there.

Clearly I spend a lot of time working on “just a little bit more,” reaching for that thing that’s slightly out of reach. I’m not saying that I couldn’t lose another three pounds (I could), or that I can’t continue to write a thousand words a day (I can). But what would my life be like if I didn’t try so hard, if I recognized that I’ve already come a long way and that things are pretty great at 183 pounds and six-hundred words a day, give or take? Just the thought of that, of taking my foot off the throttle, is a relief. Phew, I can quit trying so hard and still get there, still be happy. I’m not saying I’m going to completely let myself go and start eating cheesecake for breakfast, but I am going to stop pushing so much and try to let life work itself out. It seems it always does, after all. Given enough time, answers come, healings happen, and even bad moods go away.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Nothing was made to last forever.

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Socks and Days That Don’t Match (Blog #250)

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Yesterday I wore the socks Bonnie knitted me for my birthday. They don’t match–intentionally, she said, since life isn’t “perfect.” When I got home from therapy yesterday, I followed my therapist’s suggestion–I took a nap. Then I spent the evening watching two movies. The first, The Pursuit of Happyness, starred Will Smith and told the true story of a man who went from living on the streets to becoming a millionaire stock broker. Everything about this story made my heart sing. The second movie, The Words, was about a writer who wrote a story about a writer who found another writer’s manuscript (about his true love and their child who died), published it as his own, and became famous. If you’re confused, you should be. The movie had its moments–wonderful acting–but it was like playing with a set of Russian nesting doll–stories inside of stories.

The fact that my friend Justin recommended The Words should come as no surprise. (Justin is notorious for recommending “meh” movies.) “Justin, that vampire movie you told me to watch was terrible. I just can’t trust your cinema wisdom after that experience,” I said last week. “No, this movie will be different,” he said.

“Trust me,” he said.

Last night I was in bed at the time I usually start writing. I think I slept for eleven or twelve hours. And whereas I don’t feel like a daisy today–I have a headache–I do feel better. As much as getting some sleep, I think it has to do with finishing the blog earlier than normal. I guess it was creating a certain amount of stress, especially on days that were full of activities. It’d be three in the morning, I’d be worn out, and I’d think, Oh yeah, I still have that to do. Now it’s two-thirty in the afternoon, and I plan to be done with today’s blog by three-thirty. Earlier today I unsubscribed from a number of email lists, and I’m looking at that action the same way I’m looking at knocking the blog out while the sun’s still shining–a little action I can take to alleviate stress and relieve tension.

I mean, it all adds up.

Another thing I’m doing is changing the music I’m listening to while blogging. Normally I listen to instrumental music. Always the same, it’s something a friend gave me once–spiritual music. There are supposed to be seven tracks–one for each chakra–but one of the files is missing. Shit, that’s probably why I’ve felt so out of balance lately–I don’t have the heart chakra file. Anyway, today I’m listening to James Brown, and I’m finding that he’s just as spiritual. Yesterday I told my therapist that I feel stuck, what with living at home and having been sick for so long. She said, “Marcus, everything changes. You won’t be there forever. You won’t be here in this office forever.”

One day a change will come.

Today’s blog is number 250. That’s 250 days in a row of straight blogging. The goal is a year, and whether or not I make it, I do realize that one day I’ll leave my laptop shut, not write a word for the world to see. Maybe I’ll be sick in the hospital, or maybe I’ll be drinking a cup of coffee and watching Days of Our Lives with my dad, but it’ll be that simple. One day a change will come, if for no other reason than that’s the way life works. Like a pair of mismatched socks, one day doesn’t mirror the one next to. Life isn’t “perfect,” at least if you think perfect is having two socks or days that match.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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As the ocean of life changes, we must too.

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The Moon and My Therapist (Blog #249)

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Last night was the supermoon. Personally, I slept for shit and think that’s why. Of course, I can’t prove that’s the reason, but if the moon can move the tides, surely it can move me, since I’m mostly water. Anyway, despite the fact that currently the moon is full and bright, in two short weeks its light will disappear completely. I just finished lunch, and I’m thinking about doing the same thing, at least for a bit. A couple hours ago I saw my therapist, and we talked about how exhausted I’ve been lately. She said she could feel it coming off my body, this deep tiredness. She also said she thought I was starting to resent the blog, and I know that part of me is. Every day I come here and process, sit down and pour myself out, honestly more than I’m being poured into. I’m getting something out of this, of course, but often it’s just a warm, fuzzy feeling, and that doesn’t always get me through the next day.

When I told my therapist I was writing a thousand words a day (and have been for the last 248 days in a row), she almost fell out of her chair. I act like it’s nothing, but it’s obviously not, and it takes a lot out of me. My therapist said she wouldn’t tell me what to do, but she suggested I take a nap for “at least five” out of the next eight days. She said, “Stop, just stop. Be lazy. It’s okay.” She also suggested that for one day–just one day–I log into the blog and post, like, two sentences. I’m authentically worn out. Later, bitches, or something along those lines. Honestly, these are rather difficult suggestions for me to take to heart because 1) I’m really committed to writing every day for a year, and 2) I have a tough time giving myself a break.

Something’s gotta give, or I’m gonna.

That being said, I’m going to give it a try, at least the napping. I’d originally planned to read a hundred and fifty pages in a book today that’s due back at the library, but I’ve decided I’ll just check it back out instead. So that will give me time to nap, then maybe I could just watch a movie–something stupid–drink a beer, eat some ice cream. Maybe all of the above. Shit, something’s gotta give, or I’m gonna. As for writing a two-sentence blog, that’s obviously not going to happen today. I’m not sure if I can actually let myself go there. But I am about to wrap this up in less than 500 words ( and less than thirty minutes), and that’s pretty good for me. More than a decent compromise, I think. Now it’s two-thirty in the afternoon, and I can’t tell you how good this feels, to be done for now. And it’s okay, Marcus. Even the moon doesn’t shine every day.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Some days, most days, are a mixed bag. We cry, we laugh, we quit, we start again. That's life. In the process, we find out we're stronger than we thought we were, and perhaps this is healing.

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The Mystery Inside the Circle (Blog #248)

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It’s just after midnight, and I’ve been cranky all day. I noticed it earlier while I was reading. The television was on, the kitchen sink was running, the microwave was beeping, and nothing would shut up. I just want it to be quiet. I just want to the world to be quiet. So I took a shower, shaved my face, and that helped a little–but only a little. At some point I realized my bad mood was simply the result of being ill. I really do feel better than I did a week ago, but my energy level is still shot, and I still have drainage. Then when I did a sinus rinse and saw some mucus, I thought, What if I still have an infection? Well, then I started to freak out. You know how one thought leads to another. What if it never goes away? What if this is the rest of my life? Why does the universe hate me?

I know this thinking is dramatic.

Probably the best thing I could do at this point would be go to bed. Like for a month, but at least until the morning. But again, I have this blog to write. I realize this blog is strictly my choice, so I hope it doesn’t appear that I’m nailing myself to a cross or anything. But I don’t mind saying that keeping your commitments and exercising personal willpower are difficult things to do when you’re not feeling your best. This is something I really struggle with whenever I’m under the weather–do I keep pushing, eating good meals, searching the internet for answers, or do I give up, grab a bowl of ice cream, and let nature take its course?

Currently I’m leaning toward the ice cream.

It seems that whenever I’m worried about one thing, I’m worried about everything. Perhaps this is seeing the world through shit-colored glasses. (Where did these come from?) But it seems that the hope I have for feeling better is somehow tied to the hope I have for being more self-sufficient, is somehow tied to the hope I have for having my own family one day. It’s like my body and all my hopes and dreams are tied together in a big knot, and if one thing goes down, we all go down together. Logically I know that my allergies (or whatever) have nothing to do with whether or not I’ll be living with my parents when I’m forty, but in this moment I can’t untie the knot.

Earlier I cried while watching an America’s Got Talent audition in which the comedian Drew Lynch got the Golden Buzzer and went straight to the next round. This is something I think I could do more of, crying. Having stuffed things down for so long, I know there’s a lot that would like to come to the surface. And whereas I’ve made a lot of progress in the area of expressing emotions, I know my tendency is to strengthen my defenses rather than soften them. On days like today, my muscles automatically tighten. I think, I can handle this. But part of me just wants to admit it–I’m tired of being strong, and I don’t have all the answers.

This afternoon I went for a two-hour walk and listened to Joseph Campbell. It really is the strangest thing walking the streets of your hometown. Today I went to the city park, and I remember being there as a child. There’s a spot by the woods where my sister ran into a barbed wire fence. There’s a house on the other side where I used to get my hair cut. That’s when I was blonde (naturally). On the way home I looked to my right and saw the back of the house where my grandmother used to live and thought, Why haven’t I seen that before? I know it’s been fifteen years since she’s been alive, twenty since I mowed her lawn, but I can still remember us standing there in her yard like it was yesterday–just like I can remember the barbed wire fence incident and my blonde hair or–more recently–where I was standing when my first nephew was born. It’s all mixed up together as if time didn’t exist.

My man Joseph Campbell says you can draw a circle around anything–a rock, an animal, a planet–and say, “What is it?” Granted, we have names and labels for everything in our physical world. You could say, “Duh, that’s a rock, and that’s Jupiter (a rock in the sky).” But the point is, when was the last time you looked at something you see every day and let it be what it truly is–a mystery? As I was leaving the park, a flock of geese took off from the water and flew right in front me in their trademark V. For a moment, I was totally stunned. How is it that I’m lucky enough to live in a universe where birds fly?

Tonight was not only the last full moon of the year, but it was also a super moon, which is when the moon is closet to the earth. Earlier I stepped outside and saw it moving behind the clouds, and it was like seeing those geese at the park, this absolute wonder flying through the heavens. But surely our lives are wonders too, these knots of emotions and memories that fall down one day and fly the next. Surely you could draw a circle around us, for we are as complicated and as beautiful as any planet. Better yet, I think, to draw a circle around yourself, to see yourself for the mystery that you are, and know that mysteries aren’t supposed to have all the answers.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

The journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step. And whereas it's just a single step, it's a really important one.

"

Things That Aren’t On-Demand (Blog #247)

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Tonight for dinner I ate a steak with brussels sprouts and beets. Brussels sprouts and beets, with dandelion tea to drink! (Look, Ma, I’m becoming one of those annoying healthy people on the internet.) This afternoon I even ate a mango with breakfast. But seriously, what has happened to me, stepping out of my food comfort zone? Usually my vegetables are limited to zucchini, squash, and spinach–that’s it. I like my fruits to be apples, bananas, peaches, pears, or pineapples, or I don’t like them at all. Honestly, it’d be the same if I were going out for tacos–I’m a creature of habit–I find something that works and stick with it.

As for why I’m branching out at mealtime, I’ve been on the world-wide web again. Lately I’ve been reading a lot about how you should “eat the rainbow.” Personally, I think this is one of the gayest expressions I’ve ever heard (and therefore we should keep it). But seriously, I love the way it reminds me to fill my plate with colorful food. Fried chicken is not a color, Marcus. Well, usually when I take to a new idea, I jump overboard and go one hundred percent. I’m going to buy fifty-four new vegetables and sixteen new fruits. I’m going to eat the rainbow–in one meal! But the last time I went to the store I told myself it was okay to start small–one new fruit, one new vegetable, one new canned vegetable. Baby steps.

Now that I’ve tried all these new food items, I can’t say that my life has dramatically changed. I feel pretty much like I’ve felt for the last week–sort of tired, not awful. So I’ve been trying to convince myself that I really am in this for the long haul, that eating right is something that benefits a person over time, not over an afternoon. I’ve been trying to apply this thinking to my chi kung practice too. So far I’ve been at it every day for twelve days, and I really have to fight the tendency to throw in the towel because this still hurts or that’s still a problem. I blame America for this mentality. Everything here is drive-thru restaurants, two-day shipping, and on-demand movies. I want healing now.

Our bodies aren’t on-demand.

Of course, our bodies aren’t on-demand. Health problems and the number on the scale take time to develop, take time to go away. I’m trying to remember this. Once I read that the secret to success was simply doing more of a right action. In other words, if you consider eating a healthy meal to be a good thing–do more of that. Earlier today I saw a picture of me taken a couple months ago, and the first thing I thought was, Oh wow, I’ve lost weight in my face. So whereas I have a tendency to think that nothing I do ever works, my body has obviously responded to the right actions I’ve been taking for the last month. So maybe I just need to keep it up. As the saying goes, all things in good time.

This afternoon I finished reading Turtles All the Way Down by John Green, one of the best fiction books I’ve read in a while. Then I started a non-fiction book about intuition called Second Sight by Judith Orloff. Currently I’m a little less than halfway done, and all I can think about is finishing so I can get to the six other books I’ve already started but haven’t finished. I do this a lot–think about all the books I want to read but don’t have time to. I look at the dozens and dozens of titles on my Amazon wish lists and just assume my life would be better if I had all that knowledge. Since there’s always more to learn, this thinking is exhausting. So I’m trying to remind myself to simply do the best I can each day–read what I can read–and give myself a damn break.

Tonight I repaired a light fixture in my parents’ bedroom. A few weeks ago it shorted out, and I just got the replacement part I needed a couple days ago. So I was almost done. I’d already installed the new part, attached the wires, fastened the fixture to the ceiling, and put the bulbs back in. All I had to do was put the glass globe on the bottom. If you’ve ever done this sort of thing, you know nothing is ever easy, and I hit a snag when the new part I installed didn’t have a screw long enough to hold the globe on. (Don’t you hate it when a screw isn’t long enough?) Well, the next thing I knew, I was fishing through the trashcan for the old part, so I could take the long screw from it and use it to hold the globe on. Of course, the bracket holding the screw was welded on, so I ended up making a mess.

But the good news is that it worked. It just took longer than I thought.

I guess most things take longer than we think–losing weight, feeling better, reading a book. Just now I got distracted and watched a bunch of videos about intuition (it’s a theme lately), so now this blog is taking longer than I thought. Maybe we all get distracted, or maybe life isn’t meant to be lived in a straight line. Once my therapist said, “It’s not the destination, it’s the journey.” I think I rolled my eyes; it was just more “inspirational poster” than I could handle at the moment. But when I consider this blog, for example, it really isn’t where I’m going on the outside–365 days of straight blogging–it’s where I’m going on the inside. That’s the journey the therapist was talking about, the one that transforms you. Of course, this journey, like the physical body, refuses to be rushed, is the result of taking one right action after another, and is worth every baby step along the way.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Sickness and health come and go, just like everything else. It's just the way life is."