On Learning a New Language (Blog #680)

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Here’s something fun. Sitting or standing up, flex all your toes into the floor. Then try to lift only your big toe(s), but leave the other 4 (or 8) on the ground. Do this several times. Big toe up, big toe down. Then reverse the process. Keep your big toe(s) on the ground, but lift the others. Go ahead, try it.

See if you don’t cuss.

I got this exercise from Kate Galliett and The Unbreakable Body, an online coaching program I signed up for years ago and recently rediscovered. The exercise is meant to rebuild and/or strengthen the arches in your feet, which, by the way, you apparently have three of on each foot, not just one. For me, the exercise is difficult, especially the second part, especially with my left foot. My toes shake and quiver and won’t do what my brain tells them to. (My nephews don’t obey me either.) And whereas that’s frustrating as hell, it motivates me to keep trying.

With my toes and my nephews.

Kate says that if you were going to learn a new language you’d learn a little at a time and it would be awkward at first, and it’s the same with your body. If you want to learn a new movement, or even teach your tense muscles how to relax, it’s going to take time. But positive changes can occur. You just have to slowly teach your body the language you want it to learn. Relax, be strong, be mobile, whatever.

Lift your damn toes in the air.

This idea of language has been on my mind today. This afternoon I finished reading a book by Joseph Murphy about your subconscious mind and positive self-talk. I have an off-and-on relationship with these types of books, the kind that tell you to affirm the things in your life that you want to see increase or grow. Sometimes I think they’re fabulous. Sometimes I think they’re crap. Still, I can’t deny there’s an inner monologue going on in my brain virtually all day long, and it makes sense to me for that monologue to be positive (God, you’re a handsome devil, Mr. Coker) rather than negative (I’m so disgusting, I’m going to eat a worm). I mean, if I have a choice in what I think (and why wouldn’t I, it’s my brain), I might as well choose thoughts that feel good rather than thoughts that feel bad.

Along these lines, the book said one positive affirmation is, “I am the only thinker in my universe. No one call tell me what to think about (blank).” I really like this. Recently someone gave me crap about my long hair. I was not amused by this. (My therapist says it’s not appropriate for one adult to tell another adult how to live their life. I agree.) I bring it up because even if the entire fucking world told me they didn’t like my hair, I am the only thinker in my universe. No one call tell me what to think about any part of my body. Likewise, even if someone has done me wrong (ripped my heart out and stomped that sucker flat), I don’t have to think bad thoughts about them. Indeed, I can wish them well if I want to, if for no other reason than letting go of a grudge feels better than holding on to one.

I am the only thinker in my universe.

Granted, it’s not easy to turn your thoughts around, just like it’s not easy to control your awkward toes (if you toes are anything like mine, that is). It’s not easy to learn a new language. Most of today I’ve felt nervous and fearful. Not because anything bad is looming on the horizon, but I do have a few tasks and appointments coming up this next week that I’m not looking forward to. Hell, I didn’t want to write tonight’s blog. Even now I’d rather be watching a movie and zoning out. My point being that along with my feeling nervous and fearful, I’ve had nervous and fearful thoughts (duh). What if I do something wrong? What if they don’t like me? What if I’m not good enough? And whereas I wish I could immediately banish these thoughts and feelings, I can’t.

Learning a new language is hard.

Still, I am determined to learn–determined to learn how to lift up my little toes while my big toe stays on the ground, determined to learn how to think about the world differently. Everything’s going to be okay. People like me (and if they don’t, fuck them). I’m good enough. And I’m finding there’s a lot of relief in just starting. That is, even though I can’t lift my toes quite right, I’ve started to learn, so the process isn’t as intimidating as it was before. Even though my self-talk has a long way to go, I’m at least aware of what’s going on “up there.” They’re just thoughts, and thoughts are changeable. Nothing is set in stone.

More and more, I’m learning to not come at myself with a sledgehammer. My dad’s been going with me to work out at night, and tonight he said, “I’m trying to add one or two new exercises each time we go.” How perfect is that? A month ago when I started going to the gym to rehab my leg, I wasn’t even breaking a sweat. But, like my dad, I’ve been adding in exercises one at time, and now I leave the gym glistening. (My next goal: leaving with a wet t-shirt.) So both at the gym and at home, I’m trying to add in good habits, add in good thoughts. I keep telling myself, Sweetheart, be patient. We’re learning a new language.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"It's never a minor thing to take better care of yourself."

On Every Brilliant Thing (Blog #679)

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This evening I met my friend CJ for dinner and a show in Fayetteville. It’s been forever since we’ve seen each other. Probably six months or more. We were talking about how slow time seems to pass when you’re looking forward to an event or waiting for something to happen. Like, it’ll be five more months before I can dance again (because of my recent knee injury and subsequent surgery), and that feels like ages. But when you look back–has it really been two months since I hurt myself, has it really been six months since we’ve seen each other?–gosh, time flies by.

I guess it’s just perspective.

After CJ and I ate, we walked around Dickson Street before the show started. I say walked around, but because it was butt-cold, something like twenty degrees, we more like scurried. Ugh, I hate winter. The snow was falling, the wind was blowing, my nipples were hard and everything. CJ said her boogers froze. Anyway, we ended up at one of my favorite used book stores. And whereas I had a fabulous time looking around (I adore a good book), I actually wasn’t tempted to buy anything. Go figure. Maybe I’m coming down with a fever.

The show we saw was at Theatre Squared and was called Every Brilliant Thing. It starred Liz Callaway, who–I learned tonight–played Grizabella in Cats on Broadway. (Swoon.) In tonight’s show, Liz played a seven-year-old (who eventually grows up) whose mother is manic-depressive and suicidal. Well, in order to make her mom feel better, she makes a list of “every brilliant thing” about life–ice cream, water fights, staying up past your bedtime and being allowed to watch TV–over a hundred things. And although the list doesn’t bring her mother out of her depression, it becomes a touchstone in the girl’s own life, something she comes back to over and over again throughout high school, college, marriage, and separation. In time, the list grows to a million different things that are wonderful about life–the smell of an old book, Chrisopher Walken’s voice, hairdressers who listen to what you want.

Here’s a picture of a bunch of brilliant things audience members wrote on a board outside the theater space. My contribution: 80s music.

One of the brilliant things about the show was that although it technically only starred Liz, it included nearly everyone in the audience. That is, before the show started, Liz handed out numbered notecards to many of us that each listed a single brilliant thing on it. Then as the show started and progressed, Liz would call out a number, 6 for example, and someone would say, “Roller coasters!” CJ’s card was 999–Sunshine. Mine was 518. When Liz handed it to me, she smiled and said, “I was told you wanted a long card.” It said, “When idioms coincide with real-life occurrences, for instance: waking up, realizing something and simultaneously smelling coffee.”

I can’t tell you what fun this play was. Not only did I laugh and cry, I was reminded that there are a million beautiful things about life to celebrate and take note of, even when you feel depressed, even when your chips are down. For example, this knee injury has been a real drag, especially since dancing and teaching dance is largely how I make a living. Yet in the midst of this not-so-fabulous predicament, I’ve had AMAZING care. Plus, this situation has caused me to slow down and be kinder to myself. It’s gotten me back in the gym. It’s gotten my dad IN the gym, and that’s huge. Now we’re spending more time together. Talk about brilliant things.

I guess it’s just perspective.

Seriously, I could go on about why my life is beautiful right here, right now. This morning I had granola with homemade kefir for breakfast–delicious. My car, Tom Collins, has heated seats–glorious. This evening when I thought I’d left the tickets for tonight’s show at home and called the box office to find out what to do, the woman I spoke to said, “No worries. We didn’t actually mail the tickets. They’re here at the theater. Plus, we always have a list, so you’re perfect.” A stranger said I was perfect! (How perfect is that?) Anyway, I won’t go on, but I think we should all do this now and then–talk about brilliant things–because we feel better when we do. The way I see, it shifts our perspective, wakes us up to the love that resides within our own good hearts.

Here’s something wild. My grandpa, my dad’s dad, used to wear coveralls, like, every damn day. With the exception of the occasional funeral or anniversary, I really can’t remember him wearing anything else. Well, tonight after the show, out of the blue, CJ gave me a pair of grandpa’s old coveralls and a straw hat he used to wear whenever he worked in the yard. The two of them were friends, and I guess she ended up with them after he died ten years ago. “I thought you’d like to have them,” she said. I still can’t get over it. This is what I think is truly brilliant about life, that on the coldest night of the year, you can find yourself making memories with a good friend; that years after a loved one leaves you, their memory can come flooding back; that one or a million brilliant things can remind you of the love that always lives inside you.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Bodies are so mysterious, much more complicated than car doors. They take more patience to understand and work with. They require more than a couple hours to repair.

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A Reprieve (Blog #678)

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Well shit. After six weeks of rehab-ing my knee two to three times a day, which I was told to do, I was given a reprieve today. I’ll explain. This afternoon I had an appointment with my surgeon, who said my range of motion looked great. Then he said the swelling in my knee (oh, there’s swelling in my knee) was probably due to overuse. “Most people rehab a day, then take a day off,” he said. “I’m officially giving you permission to rest. It’ll take all of six months for your strength to come back, so don’t rush.”

Afterwards I met with my physical therapist, who confirmed, “Yeah, if you come here, you don’t need to do anything else for the rest of the day.” Ugh. That’s not what was said in the beginning. “Do your exercises two or three times a day.” So much for living in the golden age of communication. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled to be able to chill out. These exercises have been taking up two to three hours every day, and now I get to back off to about one hour every other day. Plus, instead of going to physical therapy twice a week, now I’ll only be going once a week or once every other week.

Here’s to sleeping in and saving gas money.

Since leaving the doctor’s and physical therapist’s, I’ve been in a mild state of shock. As a former straight-A student, I’m so used to giving a hundred and ten percent all the time. Work, work work. Push, push, push. What’s more, unfortunately, I’m used to giving, giving, giving, and it never being enough. If this sounds like a recipe for exhaustion and constant frustration and disappointment, it is. But these last few years I’ve been learning (slowly) that you don’t have to go balls-to-the-wall every minute of every day in order to get good results, and today was another reminder of this.

A slow and steady effort will do.

This evening I taught a dance lesson, my first since injuring my knee over two months ago and having surgery six weeks ago today. Y’all, it was the perfect thing, this darling engaged couple getting ready for their first dance. This meant I didn’t have to spend an hour dancing with someone and could limit my movements to demonstrations. And since they weren’t advanced, I didn’t have to turn or spin, which I’m not allowed to do anyway. I can’t say how much fun I had. Not only did I enjoy teaching, but the lesson got me out of the house and took my mind off my problems. Well, one problem in particular. Ugh, this is so important, having something worthwhile to focus on.

Tonight, for the third night in a row, my dad and I went to the gym together. And since I was given a reprieve from leg exercises for a couple days, I worked on my upper body. I’ve been studying some muscle-balancing exercises online, so my plan is to try a new thing or two each time I work out. I figure I’ve set aside time every day to focus on my body, so I might as well keep it up. But you know, not go too fast. This is really a big lesson for me, that I don’t have to overachieve all the damn time, that a smaller amount of effort, applied consistently, will get the job done.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Suddenly the sun breaks through the clouds. A dove appears--the storm is over.

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Excitement and the Creative Process (Blog #677)

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Yesterday I blogged about how excitement comes at the beginning of a new endeavor, a diet, an exercise program, a writing project. My point was that, unfortunately, the excitement doesn’t last. Inevitably, boredom sets in. Maybe the results aren’t coming as quickly as you’d like. (Do they ever?) At that point, you have to make a choice. Am I going to stick with this thing or not? Do I mean business or don’t I? In terms of my experience with this blog, I know I’m rarely excited about sitting down and pounding out five hundred or a thousand words on the daily. Thankfully, the excitement I initially felt when starting this project has–somewhere along the way–been transformed into something better, something akin to fondness and belief. That is, I’m fond of this project, fond enough to show up here day after day. Likewise, I believe in this project, and that belief, I think, is ultimately what’s required to sustain any longterm endeavor, be it a blog, a healthy lifestyle, or a relationship.

More on this shortly.

Last night my dad, who’s overweight and notorious for saying, “I’ll start that diet or exercise program next week,” actually went to the gym with me. No shit, walked in the front door of Planet Fitness, put his hands on his hips and hollered, “IS THIS THE JUDGMENT FREE ZONE?” Oh my god, y’all, I NEVER talk to anyone at the gym, and Dad waltzes right in there and starts making friends. The next thing I knew, he’d signed up and was getting a tour. When I signed up, I said, “I’ll show myself around, thanks.” Anyway, it really was fabulous having him there, even though we worked on different machines. In a room full of strangers (or rather, people you refuse to introduce yourself to), it’s good to know someone. It’s good to know someone’s in your corner.

Now it’s 9:15 in the evening. Fifteen minutes ago Dad asked if we were going back to the gym today, so I’m trying to type fast so we can. Personally, I don’t mind going at midnight, but Dad prefers to go earlier. And since I got up this morning at 7:30 for an appointment with my massage therapist and chiropractor, I don’t mind saying it would be nice to workout before I mentally turn into a pumpkin.

This afternoon I washed my car, Tom Collins, for the first time since I injured my knee two months ago. It’s weird the things you take for granted when your legs work, like being able to vacuum your backseat or scrub your tires with a cleaning brush. Anyway, it really felt super, giving Tom a good once-over. Plus, the sun was shining, and that really puts a smile on my face. Ugh, the sky has been so gloomy lately. I keep telling myself, Spring is coming. Just wait, spring is coming.

This evening I went to a local bookstore, Bookish, to hear my friend, writing instructor, and local author Anita Paddock speak. Anita recently wrote not one–but two–true crime novels about murders that took place right here in Van Buren around 1980 (the year I was born). Well, she’s in the process of finalizing her third true crime novel about four people who were also murdered here in Crawford County around 1980, and tonight Anita gave a group of us a verbal outline of the story and read an expert from her book, which should come out this summer.

Y’all, I can’t tell you what a shot in the arm it was to see Anita tonight. Not only is she a wonderful presenter and storyteller, but it’s always inspiring to see someone you know succeed and be supported by their community. Dreams come true. People are in your corner. Plus, going to a bookstore is my version of going to church, and I got both inspired and excited about a few writing projects that I’ve been putting off for, well, a long damn while now. Not that I haven’t been thinking about them, but I tend to put a lot of pressure on myself. I think, This has got to be good, and then I never sit down to start because I’m too afraid. What if it’s not good? In short, I “dig in” and “get serious” about potential projects–two things that are good to do, but not right away–before allowing myself to be excited about them first. The result, sadly, is I end up squashing my dreams before they have a chance to take hold.

You need excitement to jumpstart you.

Since I was inspired and excited tonight, I immediately took action. First I called a friend of mine about an idea I had. Then I went to another bookstore (that was still open) to get more ideas. Y’all, this was so much fun for me, just thinking about possibilities. This is the great thing about excitement–it thinks everything is possible. For a creative, this is absolutely necessary. You need excitement to jumpstart you, to carry you into the hard work, which–no doubt–will come. And hopefully by that point you’ve grown so fond of your project, that you won’t turn back. Hopefully by that point you’ll believe so much in what you’re doing–and, more importantly in yourself–that you’ll keep showing up regardless of mood, regardless of whether the sky is gloomy or the sun shines bright.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If another's perspective, another's story about you is kinder than the one you're telling yourself, surely that's a story worth listening to.

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It Doesn’t Taste Like Chocolate (Blog #676)

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Holy cow. The sun was out today. Talk about marvelous. It was warm and everything, so warm, in fact, that I went for a walk around the neighborhood. And whereas my knee, which I recently had surgery on, required me to go slow, I did it. Made some vitamin D, burned a few calories, and cheered myself right up. To God be the glory, great things he hath done.

This afternoon I went grocery shopping, first to the health food store for fermented things, then to Aldi’s for everything else. Last week when I went, it took forever, but today I was in and out of both stores within an hour. This is thanks to the fact that I’m eating clean and, therefore, only like six things. And now that I know where they are, well, shopping is easy peasy.

What’s not easy peasy, apparently, is opening a can of tuna, which I tried to do when I got home from shopping because I was hungry. Y’all, that little pull tab snapped right off, so I tried opening the can with a screwdriver. This is a good idea, I thought, but it wasn’t. I guess those cans are under pressure (aren’t we all?); I got it open, but the tuna splattered everywhere. The kitchen looked like a toddler had contracted salmonella.

Now I’m doing laundry.

Once I cleaned up the tuna mess, I opened another can of tuna and made a salad–lettuce, onions, carrots, nuts, all the healthy things. Do you guys have any idea how long it takes to eat a salad? Seriously, there’s so much chewing. (I’ve never had this problem with a chocolate malt.) When I finally finished, I was stuffed. Now it’s forty-five minutes later, and I’m starving. What the hell, salad? (This is why people don’t like you.) Granted, I’m not bloated and can sit down without unbuttoning my jeans, but I’m pretty sure I could go back to cheeseburgers and get the same effect with an elastic waistband.

Despite my issue with salads (like my previous boyfriends, they have no staying power), I’m enjoying my new diet, which amounts to little or no wheat/gluten, dairy, sugar, and alcohol. Although sometimes tired, my body feels better, less heavy. Plus, my skin issues have been steadily improving, as has (I think, maybe, hopefully) my stomach. Likewise, I can see improvements from my knee rehab and workout routine. Still, I get frustrated that results aren’t instantaneous (presto change-o) and also get bored with doing the same thing every day, every damn day. This is part of the reason I’ve been looking for different exercises to do online and even–gasp–eating salads (because chicken and rice was getting old).

Recently a friend asked me if I still enjoyed writing (the blog). The short answer is yes. At the same time, it’s not EXCITING like it was in the beginning. But not because it’s not fun or rewarding, but because it’s not the beginning. That’s the deal, if you’re excited about something, you’re probably just getting started with it. Excitement has to do with the new, the novel. The place you get results, however, has to do with the routine, the ho-hum haven’t-we-done-this-a-million-times-before? Sadly, sticking with something isn’t sexy, and it doesn’t taste like chocolate. Still, it is satisfying to grind it out day after day then look back and see what you’ve done, what you’ve created, or how you’ve transformed. And good, I think, that the process of change isn’t exciting from start to finish, since then you’re challenged to master not only the thing–the diet, the exercise program, the writing–but also yourself–your thoughts, your emotions, your will, or anything else that would tell you to quit rather than keep going.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It’s okay to ask for help.

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On Continuing Sans Perfection (Blog #675)

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For the last twenty minutes I’ve been trying to get my hotspot to work so I could blog on my laptop. Alas, for whatever reason, it’s currently defunct, so I’m blogging on my phone, using my thumbs to punch in one letter at a time. What a drag. What a serious drag. I hope I don’t get a callous.

This afternoon while most of America was eating cheese dip and preparing for the Superbowl, I went to the gym to rehab my knee and work out my upper body. As today was my second time this week following this regimen, I’m really surprised I don’t have pecs yet. Geez, some things take forever. And as if that weren’t disappointing enough, when I came home I pulled out a box of medjool dates for a snack, and the sticker on the box said, “Had a date lately?” I thought, Do you have to rub it in? Shit, a single guy can’t even eat a healthy snack without having his lack of a love-life thrown in his face. By a fruit, no less.

For the record, I’ve NEVER had this problem with chocolate cake.

This may come as a surprise, but I’m not a football fan. So while everyone else was wondering if Adam Levine would take a knee during his performance, I took a nap. I did, however, wake up in time for the half-time show, which I watched while I knitted.

Recently my friend Kara asked if I was learning to knit in order to get some sort of gay merit badge.

The answer is yes.

A couple things. In a previous post I said my current knitting project, a pot holder, would eventually have 36 rows. That was (an unintentional) lie. It’s going to have 60. Anyway, today I did twelve rows, so now I’ve done a total of 28. Almost halfway there. My big hangup today was that I noticed a mistake I made a few days ago. I guess I dropped a stitch or knitted instead of purled or something. Honestly, it’s not a big deal. You probably wouldn’t even notice it if I showed you. But I noticed it wasn’t perfect.

Instead of ripping out the entire damn thing and starting over, I forced myself to keep going. After all, this is supposed to be for fun. Plus, I kept thinking about all the hundreds of mistakes I’ve made dancing through the years and how much I’ve learned from them. Indeed, mistakes are necessary when we’re figuring things out. And as my therapist says, “You’ll be done figuring things out when you’re six feet under.”

In other words, mistakes are simply part off living. Like it or not, they come with the job.

The other thing that encouraged me to continue knitting sans perfection was thinking about this blog. That is, in over 600 blog posts, I’m SURE I’ve made plenty of mistakes. I proof each post three times, and I know mistakes still slip through. But whatever. This project doesn’t need to flawless, each word spelled correctly, each sentence punctuated just so. Indeed, the greatest benefit I’ve gotten from writing every day can’t even be measured in terms of the finished project because the greatest benefit has been internal. Likewise, whether you write, dance, or knit, it’s not about the actual thing or what you produce. It’s about how doing the thing changes you. It’s about what you learn and how much you grow.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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In this moment, we are all okay.

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The World Has It Backwards (Blog #674)

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This afternoon I met my longtime friend Kara for coffee (well, hot tea ’cause we fancy), and we laughed and laughed. Then as the conversation evolved, we dove deep. Kara said, “You’ve obviously chosen to live your life differently. What’s the end goal?” So I talked about my dreams of being a full-time (paid) writer and how I see this period in my life, living with my parents, not working a nine to five, as an investment. “It’s a gamble,” I said, “a bet that if you listen to your gut and follow your heart that things will work out. Of course, I’m not on the other side of that bet, so it’s still just a theory for me.”

I’ve been rolling this conversation around in my head ever since Kara and I said goodbye. Mostly I’ve been thinking about the fact that for every apparent downside to my living with my parents and not having a regular job, there have been just as many upsides. For example, these last two years have given me time to heal both inside and outside. Second, they’ve given me time to study a number of subjects that interest me and I imagine will play a big part in my future. Third, I’ve gotten a ton done with my therapist, work that wouldn’t have happened if I’d 1) had a full-time job or 2) been in a full-time relationship.

This evening I did some body-based exercises intended to highlight the differences between shutting down and opening up (in terms of posture and emotion). Then I worked on my current knitting project–a pot holder–and messed up a couple spots when I went from knitting to purling or vice versa. (Knitting and purling are the two basic stitches in knitting.) Thankfully, I figured out how to fix everything and also how to keep it the problem from happening again. Anyway, I’ve been thinking about contrast, that it’s often useful to know (and feel) the wrong way to stand or knit because then you can better understand the right way. Said differently, when you know what you don’t want, you know what you do want.

Along these lines, I can find gratitude for past failed relationships and even my health challenges, since they’ve created a strong desire for health in all areas of my life. Not that I didn’t want to be healthy before, but having experienced the opposite of health quite vividly a number of times in the past, I know better what I’d like my life and health to look and feel like in the future. Now I have a clearly picture of what it is I’m aiming for–er, I’m betting–where it is I’m going. And to be clear, I hate that, that sometimes you have to go down before you can go up.

In one of my very first blog posts (#4), I told a story about Joseph Campbell that’s worth repeating. He said there was a five-year period in his life that he just read books. He didn’t have “a real job,” he didn’t really work at all. He just studied. Years later he said he could see that time was absolutely necessary, since it set him up for his later success. I guess my point is that I’d like to do better about appreciating this down time, this contrast, for what it is now. I’d like to recognize it as a time to heal, as preparation, an essential and important chapter in my life story. I know that I often judge importance based on the world’s values of success and money, but having reconnected with my heart and soul in the absence of these things and believing one’s heart and soul are valuable above all else, I believe the world has it backwards.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Healing requires letting go of that thing you can’t let go of.

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Five Pounds Is Five Pounds (Blog #673)

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It’s 6:10 in the evening, and I’m rushing to get this done in thirty minutes because later I’m going out for dinner and to hear a friend play live music. This is a good exercise for a writer–try to tell a long story, try to tell a short story. (This is me trying to tell a short story.)

Last night at the gym, in addition to doing my knee rehab, I started working out my upper body. I don’t remember the last time I on-purpose did this. Maybe a few years ago. Anyway, it wasn’t pretty. When I worked out my shoulders doing lateral raises (in which you raise your arms straight out to both sides), I only used five-pound weights. Five freakin’ pounds. Granted, that exercise doesn’t require a lot of weight in order for you to feel it, but all I felt–was like a wimp. Later, when I saw a “dude” doing the same exercise with twenty pound weights, I wanted to go over and apologize. Like, I promise I’ll do better next time. As if he’d patented the movement and I were somehow an embarrassment to him.

Human are so neurotic.

Despite the voice in my head that stated otherwise, I was actually quite proud of getting started on my upper body workout. Hell, I did more last night in an hour than I have in the last three years combined. Probably just another visit or two, and my muscles will be so big I’ll need to go up a shirt size. (GRRR.) I don’t know, I think this is the deal. You’re always going to have those voices in your head telling you you’re not good enough, not as worthy enough. Call it your inner (insecure) child. But that doesn’t mean your inner (in charge) adult can’t have a say too. Hey, I’m good enough to be here. We’re doing something good for ourselves. Five pounds is five pounds. The journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step.

You know, shit like that.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Your emotions are tired of being ignored.

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