On Autonomy (Blog #741)

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Currently it’s eight-forty-five in the evening, and I’m lying in bed wearing yesterday’s clothes. I hate that my daily selfies are a dead giveaway as to how often I take a shower and change outfits. Or don’t, rather. Fuck it. I’m not here to impress anybody.

This afternoon I read twenty pages in a three-hundred page book I started over a month ago. This made one hundred pages total. Which book doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I just couldn’t get into it, despite the fact that I often found myself smiling or laughing out loud. Anyway, even though I have a giant hard-on for completing things I start, I finally said screw it and permanently closed the cover. This is the second time I’ve done this recently and is perhaps an indication that I’m finally learning that just because you’ve invested in something doesn’t mean you have to keep investing in it.

I have a difficult time with the idea that things in life aren’t fixed or permanent. I think, If you start a book, you should finish it. Likewise, I think if you start a diet or workout regimen, it should last forever. I’m a “til death do us part” type of guy. Of course, this puts a lot of pressure on a person (me). A few months ago when I had knee surgery and started rehab, I also gave up coffee. But a week ago I picked it back up. At the same time, I started slacking on my rehab. I was out-of-town house sitting and just got out of the routine. And whereas part of me gets that “shit happens,” another part of me feels like I’m sinning–for quitting a book, for not being at the gym this very minute, for consuming caffeine (gasp).

I blame the ten commandments.

I’ll explain shortly.

After I quit the book I just mentioned, I started (and finished) one my therapist recommended about knowing your personal value. It was written specifically for women, but I found it helpful. All too often I underrate myself or what I have to offer. Too many times I’ve provided fabulous service to people in exchange for peanuts or their kind words. So they’d like me. But at the book said, compliments don’t pay bills.

One of my takeaways from the book was that YOU determine your value. Also, YOU are responsible for making sure you get paid what you’re worth or that others treat you like you want to be treated. I’m talking about boundaries. Rarely is anyone else going to say, “Gosh, Betty, we really should be paying you more for all you do around here.” Or, “You know, Jack, I’ve been thinking, and I interrupt you constantly and would like to apologize for that.” Rather, each of us has to stand up for ourselves.

This sucks and is hard to do.

Of course, before you can stand up for yourself, you have to know what your personal rules are. Said another way, you have to draw a line in the sand before you know whether or not someone has stepped over it. This is where the ten commandments come in. What I mean is that for the longest time I took my personal rules from a book–The Bible. Not just the ten commandments, but a lot of other commandments too. For example, I used to not eat pork because The Bible calls swine’s flesh (as well as homosexuality) an abomination. Think about that the next time you eat a ham sandwich. (Or sleep with someone of the same sex.) I’m not here to debate The Bible, but my point is that it’s easy to adopt someone else’s rules for your life. There’s a certainty in it. You think, The Bible says, my doctor says, my therapist says.

What’s harder, of course, is to take personal responsibility for every choice you make, to not lay praise or blame on an outside source. One of the exercises I’ve done in therapy is to write out a list–here’s what I’ll accept, here’s what I won’t accept. As an example, I don’t like it when people, especially women, touch me without being invited to (like, would you like to dance?). And whereas I’ll accept them touching my shoulder, I won’t accept them touching my hips or my butt. That’s my rule. That’s my boundary. Not because The Bible says so, but because I say so. Right or wrong, it’s my choice.

So hands off.

Having shared this rule about my personal space, I admit that I don’t enforce it all the time. Recently I ran into someone at Walmart and let them hug me even though I was anything but into it. I mean, it was midnight and I was taken by surprise. My defenses were down. If I had it to do over again or my leg worked better, I’d say, “No thank you” or run away. But shit happens. Anyway, my point is that even when we have rules for our lives, nothing ever works or is true one-hundred percent of the time. That is, nothing in life is that certain because life isn’t that certain. Said another way, life is fluid, like our emotions or the weather. We want something solid, a rule we can follow all the time, but there’s no such thing. Things are always changing.

This means our rules are always changing too. I’m not arguing for extremes in morality. I mentioned the ten commandments, but not to suggest that one day it’s not okay to envy or kill you neighbor and the next day it is. I only brought them up to say that often, for me, my personal rules (like, finish what you start and don’t drink coffee) feel as if they have been handed down to my by the heavens and, therefore, have cosmic consequences if broken. Of course, this is not the case. I made those rules up and can break them if I want to. Because, for one thing, I’m not even the same person I was when I made the rule. Like the weather and everything else in life, I’ve changed since then.

Even though my clothes haven’t.

This is the most difficult thing for me, letting myself and what I need change from day-to-day. Because I’d prefer something more permanent, something fixed, something certain. My friend Bonnie says that I thrive on a good routine. She’s right. I do. Still, I’m coming to think that routines and rules are like seasons. They last a while, then they disappear. If they come back again, fine. If they don’t, fine. I’m free to determine what’s best for me from moment-to-moment. I’m free to invest in a book, behavior, or relationship for hours or years then decide it’s no longer working for me. (Bye, Felicia.) We are all this free. We are all autonomous.

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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Go Ahead, Say Hello (Blog #740)

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Yesterday I learned the word whinge, which means to complain, grouse, or bitch in a peevish, childish manner, so this morning I told my therapist I’d be whinging a lot during our session. I’ll spare you my specific gripes, but she said, “Oh, I love whinging.”

“Well you’re in the right profession,” I said.

“No, I personally love whinging,” she clarified. “I don’t love it when other people do it.”

Still, she let me.

Don’t worry, she was compensated nicely for this.

Recently my therapist told me I was a good person, and I’ve been frustrated about that and told her so today. Not that I’m frustrated about her assessment, but like, so fucking what? Yeah, I’m a good person. Maybe not a saint–I don’t have wings–but I do my best–you know–up here on the high road. But it’s not like being a decent human being pays my bills or gets me laid on a regular basis. Or ever. And as I’ve said a number of times on this blog, being honest, vulnerable, and authentic is rarely a way to win friends (or influence people). Rather, it’s often a way to lose friends. This is why I’m constantly saying that I don’t recommend this path of personal growth (even though I really do)–because for all its rewards (and there are a few), it’s isolating and lonely. It is, after all, by definition, personal growth, NOT group growth. This is why Caroline Myss says that no one will ever celebrate YOUR personal empowerment. Because it means you don’t need them anymore. It means you’re doing something WITHOUT them.

In short, this entire setup sucks.

Whoever came up with this universe, I’d like to have a word.

Obviously, there are times I feel “this is bullshit” more than others, and lately I’ve simply been feeling it. These last few years have been challenging, and although I said yesterday that things are looking up, I’m tired–tired of feeling isolated, tired of being strong, tired of working on myself, and tired of always trying do the right thing. Fuck the right thing. “It fucking sucks,” my therapist said today. “I won’t patronize you and say it doesn’t. Honestly, it’s why I can be real shitty at times. Because no one can always, always, always take the high road.”

More and more, I think it’s important to acknowledge this. Almost everyone in psychology talks about our shadow, and the philosopher Alan Watts said we all contain a certain amount of “rascality.” The best people, it seems, acknowledge their shadow or inner rascal. Recently I had an absolute laugh-fest making fun of a total stranger. Was that a shitty thing to do? Sure. But did it feel good? You fucking bet it did. And, yes, I’m fine with the idea (or fact, I’m sure it’s a fact) that sometimes total strangers make fun of me. People laugh at each other. It’s a thing. Personally, I think it helps release steam that builds up because we so often guard our inner thoughts under the guise of being “appropriate.” Not that we don’t think naughty thoughts, we just don’t say them out loud. So the steam has to seep out somewhere.

As I understand it, a lot of healing and growth can happen when we fully acknowledge our shadows, when we say, “Yeah, I’m capable of the worst a human is capable of. Because I’m human.” Not that you have to encourage the dark side of yourself. Clearly, you don’t want it to take over. But, again as I understand it, it’s less likely to get out of control when you’re honest about the fact that it’s there. Our less-than-best only becomes a problem when it’s shoved down, ignored, and denied. Like, I would NEVER do THAT.

Yes you would.

In most mythologies and religions, there’s this idea of good and evil. The light and the dark. You and your shadow. And whereas some mythologies say one is better than the other, others say it all–simply is. And whereas I’m not here (in this particular post) to make a moral judgment about good and evil, I know that in my personal life I often label certain experiences and emotions good or bad. Like, I feel isolated and tired, and that sucks, so that’s bad. But it’s not. The truth is that anything I feel along THE PATH is simply part of the path. Just because it’s uncomfortable doesn’t mean it’s something to run away from. Indeed, you can’t run away from your shadow because you’re attached to it.

That thought or feeling you think is unacceptable and have banished to the corner?

Uh–that’s part of you.

My therapist’s advice today was to lean into my emotions, to let myself feel tired, frustrated, worn out, and exhausted. This seems to be a theme lately, this idea of FEELING my feelings. (Blah. What the hell?) My therapist says they go away faster when you do, even though everyone’s natural inclination is to–I don’t know–reach for the bottle or a slice of chocolate cake. Or the whole cake. (A whole cake would be nice right about now.)

Joseph Campbell said, “The Fates lead him who will; him who won’t, they drag.” To me this means that one way or another, you’re doing to meet your shadow. Sooner or later, we all have to face and feel every uncomfortable thing inside us. Because that’s you in there. That’s one of your parts. And if you think being isolated from someone else is lonely, try being isolated from yourself. So go ahead, say hello. You might as well meet yourself willingly.

Of course, feel free to whinge about it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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All things become ripe when they’re ready.

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Dandelions Beware! (Blog #739)

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This afternoon I had a follow-up appointment with my knee surgeon. Literally, I was in and out of the office in ten minutes. “I’m on a roll today,” he said. Anyway, he said everything looked good, that the scar was healing properly and that my knee will continue to swell off and on for a year, which is how long it will take to get my full strength back. He also said that now or in a couple more weeks I can start hopping, even jumping rope (woo). At six months (currently it’s been three and a half), I can swim. “You’re doing good,” he said. I can tell by how you’re walking. I’m not worried about a guy like you with your muscle tone. If you were a soccer or basketball player, I’d tell you to start doing warm-up drills. Come back at six or seven months, and we’ll have this talk again.”

Did you notice the part where he said I had muscle tone?

When I got back home, I was in a mood to work. Two days ago my dad and I started digging up gopher dirt from our flowerbeds (and redistributing it to holes in the backyard), so I finished that project. Then I mowed the front yard, then the backyard. With a push mower. And whereas the front yard wasn’t that bad, our backyard is so big, the progress was slow. For scale, it was like vacuuming the carpet in my bedroom in one-inch strips. I must have made fifty passes. Still, think of all the calories I burned. Which is why I ate Taco Bell later. I thought, I’ve been sweating for three hours. I can handle the guacamole.

After the burrito break, I edged. However, our weed eater is apparently a piece of crap, and I had to keep restarting it. In retrospect, I would have been better off just giving our weeds a strong talking to. (You there–that’s right, the dandelion–stop growing!) All in all, today’s work took four hours, since I had to make one trip to the gas station and another to Walmart (for weed eater line and oil). And whereas the yard looks fabulous (Dad said it looks as good as it ever has, and since I didn’t take a picture, you’ll have to take his word for it), I’m absolutely worn out. Exhausted. Plus, I can tell I got some sun. That always takes it out of you. Granted, I used sunscreen (SPF 50), but was a little late putting it on.

So we’ll see what my shoulders look like tomorrow.

I wore a tank top.

Grr.

While I was working in the yard, our neighbor walked across the street with a giant homemade apple pie in his hands. Another neighbor gave it to him. I told him it looked delicious. Well, later he brought me (and my parents) a piece. “I started feeling guilty,” he said.

This is further proof that emotions are a good thing.

This evening I cleaned myself, then I cleaned my clothes. That is, I did laundry. My last load, which includes the tennis shoes I used to mow the lawn this afternoon (er, I mowed with a mower, but I wore the shoes on my feet because I’m not a complete savage), is drying now. So there, all my major chores for the week are done. Although I probably will take another shower before the week is over.

Probably.

Now it’s almost midnight. Just before I started blogging, I ate my piece of apple pie, and I can feel my insulin kicking in. A nap sounds nice. A nine-hour nap, that is. Okay. How to end this? This afternoon, in the thick of mowing and the heat of the sun, I started to mentally grouse. I thought, This is harder than it was when I was a teenager. But then I remembered that four short months ago I was on crutches, and a year ago I was barely over a three-month-long sinus infection and two rounds of the flu and thought, I’m glad I can do this at all. It feels great to be outside. I’m really proud of my progress. Yes, things are looking up. This is just the beginning of good things.

Dandelions beware!

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There's a wisdom underneath everything that moves us and even the planets at its own infallible pace. We forget that we too are like the planets, part of a larger universe that is always proceeding one step at time, never in the wrong place, everything always right where it belongs.

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On Life and Spoiler Alerts (Blog #738)

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Currently it’s two-forty-five in the morning, and my stomach and brain are empty. My heart, however, is full, as I’ve spent the entire day in the company of good friends. This evening I had dinner with my friends and former roommates Justin and Ashley, and Justin and talked until well past one in the morning. (Compared to our average chats, tonight’s discourse was rather short.) And whereas I’m tired now, I’m grateful for all the benefits that a deep-and-wide, open and honest friendship provides, to be able to sit in the company of another human and not feel judged, to never feel as if you’re going to be discovered a fraud. That is, to be accepted for who you are.

At one point tonight Justin talked about something that happened when we were both in college, well over fifteen years ago. Honestly, I’d forgotten the incident, although it sounded vaguely familiar. I didn’t say it out loud, but I thought, God, that feels like forever ago. Like it happened to two other people. Maybe it did. Justin and I navel-gaze about this sort of thing a lot, the idea that we’ve both grown as people and aren’t the same as we used to be–either as individuals or as friends. Although we currently contain our former selves–there are similarities–we aren’t them. Each of us has–what’s the word?–evolved.

I’ve been thinking about this idea of evolving lately, about growth. Personally, I’ve experienced a lot of growth of the last five years (from therapy) and the last two years (from this blog). I imagine some of it is obvious to others, and some of it isn’t. What’s important is that I know I’ve grown. (Or that you know you’ve grown if you have.) At the same time, I’ve become keenly aware lately how important it is to consciously give other people in our lives latitude to grow or evolve. I told my dad this morning that I NEVER thought I’d see him join a gym. But two months ago he did, and he’s been more consistent about going than I have. So I was in the wrong–to make assumptions and judgments, to think that life nudges me toward positive change but doesn’t do the same for others.

This afternoon I met my friend Frank for cookies and a soda at Subway in Alma. Frank’s from Tulsa and was just passing through. Over a year ago Frank gave me a Zac Efron calendar (I have a very benign, very innocent celebrity crush on Zac Efron), so last week when he (Frank, not Zac Efron) said he’d gotten me a belated birthday present, I couldn’t wait to find out what it was. “If you want, I can hold it until your next birthday,” Frank said. “Oh no,” I said, “I could be dead by then.” There’s no time like the present for the present. Anyway, once again, Frank knocked the gift giving out of the park. Y’all, he gave me a giant rainbow-colored fleece blanket that says (in big, bold letters)–BORN THIS GAY.

My thoughts–Accurate, although I have had time to get better at it.

This reminds me of a Billy Crystal line I recently heard on the old television show Soap. Crystal’s character Jodie is asked, “Are you a practicing homosexual?” and says, “I don’t have to practice. I’m very good at it.”

Just before writing tonight’s blog, I read that the spiritual path (or personal growth path, if you prefer) is FILLED with uncertainty, that as we live honest, authentic lives, we actually INCREASE the amount of uncertainty if our lives. Eeek. Talk about scary. That being said, I know that nearly every good thing that’s come into my life hasn’t been planned for–my friendships with Justin and Frank, for example. Rather, one fine day certain beautiful people showed up in my life the same way one fine day my dad decided to go the gym or I received a belated birthday gift. Surprise! Nobody ever shows up and says, “We’re going to be thick as thieves in twenty years.” They don’t know, and you don’t know either. We never know anything for sure. Life doesn’t offer spoiler alerts. Still, it seems to work out. More and more, I’m learning to trust that it always will.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Even if you can't be anything you want to be, you can absolutely be who you were meant to be. Don't let anyone else tell you differently.

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No, You May Not Touch My Butt (Blog #737)

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For the last–I don’t know–several years, gophers have been living in my parents’ yard–digging tunnels, making themselves at home, and creating a damn mess of the flower beds. Well, for some reason, today my dad got a burr up his butt, borrowed a wheelbarrow and a shovel from my aunt, and went to war with the gophers. I got wrangled into helping, so for two hours this afternoon my dad and I dismantled a large pile of gopher dirt in the flower bed closest to our front door, and I redistributed the dirt to various holes and ruts in our front and back yards. Dad said, “I’m actually sweating. I don’t even sweat when I go to the gym.”

“Maybe that’s why you’re not losing weight,” I said.

This is how we get along.

Despite working for two hours, we didn’t finish the gopher dirt/flower bed project. Unfortunately, it started raining, and the dirt pile turned to mud. Still, we made a serious dent in things. See the “after” picture below. I didn’t take a “before” picture, but just imagine eight wheelbarrows worth of dirt piled around that crepe myrtle. Seriously, it was like a gopher fort. Anyway, one or two more days like today, and we’ll have it licked. Rome wasn’t built in a day.

This evening I went with friends to see a drag show at a local gay bar. While I was there, a total stranger asked if he could touch my butt. And whereas I appreciated his good taste (I do have a nice butt), I said, “No.” Later I thought maybe I should have let him (I mean, he did ask politely), but then I thought, I’ve been in therapy for five years and have paid a lot of money for my boundaries–I might as well use them. But seriously, what’s the point in learning to say no if you’re not going to do it now and then?

Of course, this incident wasn’t a big deal. Random, maybe a little awkward, but no more difficult than telling a Girl Scout who knocks on my door that I don’t want to buy any of her cookies. (I’m speaking hypothetically, since I rarely turn down a Girl Scout cookie.) But there have been plenty of times in the past when setting boundaries or saying no was a HUGE deal, something that required days or weeks of forethought, a serious conversation, or perhaps a strongly worded letter. Looking back, the longer I’d gone NOT setting boundaries with a particular person, the harder it was when I finally decided to establish them. That’s why the gopher-dirt project this afternoon was such a chore–because we let it go for so long. Had we stayed on top of things as they occurred, it would have been a piece of cake.

Did someone say cake?

My dad mentioned today that those gophers had been persistent, that they were small creatures but had stuck to it. Consequently, they’d made a big damn mess. I imagine this is often the case with things that go awry in our lives. A little thing happens, and we let it go. Fine. But then it’s another little thing, and another little thing. One day what used to be a nice-looking front yard or relationship looks like shit. We think, How did this happen? So we have to go in with a wheelbarrow and shovel and really break a sweat to set things right. There’s nothing wrong with this, of course, but I’m learning it’s possible to stay on top of things from the beginning, to have boundaries from the start, to say, “No. No, you may not touch my butt.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Sometimes life can really kick you in the balls and make you drop to your knees.

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What’s Small Is Big (Blog #736)

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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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We all need to feel alive.

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On Being a Damn Human (Blog #735)

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Well crap. It’s four-twenty in the morning, and I’m just sitting (well, sort of reclining) down to blog. It’s like the old days–writing until the sun comes up. Of course, back then I was just getting started. Part of the reason I stayed up so late to blog was because the blogs themselves took forever, sometimes six or seven hours a piece. I didn’t know what to say. But now it’s easier. It’s like part of my brain has been trained to be alert all day, gathering information to spit out later. Then whenever I open my keyboard it just knows–barf–its time to let it all out.

It’s time to let it all out. This has been on my mind today, partly because I’m working through a book about feeling (really feeling) your buried emotions (you just thought they were dead), and partly because tonight, while telling my friend Justin about what it was like for me as a teenager to sit in a courtroom and watch my dad be declared guilty of misusing his pharmacy license, I started to cry. Not that I haven’t told this story or processed it before, but tonight I included more details about me personally, how I dressed up every day to go to court. Starting off, I had this feeling of pride. I can remember my tie had a bowling ball on it. (I was totally into sports back then.) Later, after the judgment, I felt embarrassed. Anyway, I guess I didn’t realize what I felt until I told the story out loud in Justin’s living room tonight and let it all bubble up.

Thankfully, I felt (and feel) comfortable enough with Justin to let this happen, to take the lid off the buried emotions jar. We’ve known each other for twenty years, and he’s seen me laugh, cry, and get angry. I don’t think he’s ever flinched. Rather, he’s simply given me space to be a damn human. For this I am grateful and regularly tell him so. It’s a big deal to have your journey 1) witnessed without judgment and 2) affirmed. I think we all need this.

If it’s not obvious, my hanging out with Justin is why I’m blogging so late tonight. He and his wife, Ashley, and I met our friend Joseph downtown for drinks and live music this evening, then we took our party back to their house. It’d been a while since we’d all seen each other, so we stayed up pretty late. And whereas we ran the gamut of conversation, we waxed serious. I mean, I cried, but that came after a larger discussion about growing up and how and why we learn to shove our emotions down. Anyway, I’m not saying we should all talk about our childhoods every night of the week (that would be exhausting), but I am saying that if you have even one or two people in your life with whom you can let down your defenses and be a damn human every now and then, hold on to them.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Authenticity is worth all the hard work. Being real is its own reward."

On Our Stories (Blog #734)

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Today’s thoughts–

1. On slaves

Today my friend Kim told me that she recently read that only slaves work seven days a week. Slaves, and bloggers like me, was her implication. Ugh. She’s kind of right. As much as I enjoy and reap benefits from this project, I often feel chained to it. Am I ready to quit blogging every day, every damn day? No, not yet. But perhaps until I reach my next goal (1,000 days in a row), I can find other ways to let up on myself.

2. On enlightenment

This morning I woke up tired, tired, tired, and despite going back to sleep and even taking a nap this afternoon, I still am. And whereas I’m always paranoid that I’m getting sick, it’s probably just whatever’s in the air. And what’s so bad about sleeping all day?

There’s this story about enlightenment. A student asks his guru, “What do I do before enlightenment?” and the guru says, “Chop wood, carry water.”

“What do I do after enlightenment?” the student asks. To which the guru replies, “Chop wood, carry water.”

In other words, don’t complicate things. Psychologist Sheldon Kopp says your life is your life; enlightenment means accepting what is. So don’t make things harder than they already are–eat when you’re hungry, sleep when you’re tired.

3. On our stories

This afternoon I worked through another chapter in Mastin Kipp’s Claim Your Power. And whereas I’ve been thinking that the exercises related to releasing emotions associated with old traumas probably wouldn’t work (because I’ve tried everything and nothing works), they actually are. According to Kipp, a lot of self-help material talks about changing your thoughts, but that’s only part of the puzzle. He says our thoughts (and emotions) ultimately stem from our beliefs or our stories, that each of us has a handful of core beliefs that–how can I say this?–fuck with us. For example, I just mentioned one of my core beliefs–I’ve tried everything and nothing works.

You can imagine how frustrating a belief like this might feel. That was the gist of today’s exercise–to read out loud and FEEL what my core beliefs, well, feel like. More specifically, to feel WHERE my beliefs live in my body. Again, I approached this task with a lot of skepticism. I thought, Maybe it’ll work for someone else, but it won’t work for me. But as soon as I began, I started getting answers. This belief (there’s not enough) lives in my sinuses. This belief (life works for other people but not for me), lives in my stomach. This belief (the world is not a safe place) lives in my (extremely tight) shoulders. That’s when I started crying, when I said out loud, “The world is not a safe place.”

I imagine we all have core beliefs that would bring us to tears (or rage) if we finally admitted them. For me, I know I’ve been carrying that one about safety around for a long time. Decades. And whereas the cathartic moment I had this afternoon did help–it felt like finally letting go of a heavy load–it’s not like that belief completely disappeared when I stopped crying. Healing happens in pieces.

4. On hope

This evening I re-read some more of my old blogs. As I’ve said before, I’m finding a lot of compassion for myself through this process. Not that I’m trying to read my story as if it belonged to someone else, but I still find myself having that experience. I keep thinking, This guy’s all right. He’s pretty funny. He’s doing the best he can. So this has been on my mind, that this person I’m reading about is me and that I can apply all those positive feelings I have for the me of the past to the me of the present, that I wouldn’t treat him like a slave and I don’t have to treat myself like one either.

I’ve also been thinking about hope, about what would happen and what my life could look like if I dropped even one of my core beliefs. I mean, how would your life be different if you all-of-a-sudden saw the world as a safe place or believed that life could work for you too, that the universe was on your side? Wouldn’t you breathe and move easier, freer, if just ten percent of you were less afraid? Wouldn’t you swing your hips a little more? Wouldn’t you let your shoulders relax? I know I would.

I’m beginning to believe these things are possible.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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When you hide your hurt, you can’t help but pass it on. It ends up seeping, sometimes exploding out.

"

On Swerving (Blog #733)

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It’s five-thirty in the evening, and I’m house sitting/dog sitting for a friend who lives slightly off the beaten path. It’s gorgeous here–quiet, peaceful. When I arrived over an hour ago, I was still in GO mode. I thought, I need to DO something, so I unpacked, made sure I knew where to find the dog food. But then I thought, Shit, I’m free. I can relax. So I turned on my music, poured a cup of hot tea, and moved my ass to the front porch. Thats’ where I am now. The sun is going down. There’s a slight breeze. There’s less tension than before.

This morning I saw my therapist. She’s just about the only person I’d wake up before noon for. To start our session, I read her blog #730, which I wrote this last Saturday and was the final blog for year number two of Me and My Therapist. In short, it’s about my beginning to own my strengths, give myself credit, and go easier on myself. My therapist acknowledged my progress. “It’s like your learning to ride a bike,” she said. “You’re up for sure, just swerving a little, finding your balance.” Yes, finding my balance.

I can do this.

This afternoon I saw my physical therapist. I use that as a generic term, since there are several therapists who work together in the office I go to, and they all switch off. It’s like tag-team healing. Anyway, today I got a new girl, an intern. I guess she’s currently in physical therapy school and will graduate next month. And whereas I’ve been impressed with the other therapists I’ve worked with since having knee surgery last December, I was completely impressed with her. Y’all, she was a total hard ass, constantly correcting my form and making me do things the correct way. “I’m picky,” she said, half apologizing. (Sorry, not sorry.) “It’s okay,” I said, thinking of how absolutely picky I can be with my dance students. “I need to do this right, so I can do what I want to do later.”

One of the things she corrected was how I both climb and descend stairs using my left leg (the injured one). As it turns out, in both cases, I was using my right leg A LOT to compensate without realizing it. This, of course, has been creating imbalances and keeping my left leg weak. No more of that. “I’d rather you not use that leg when going up or down stairs than use it and do it wrong,” she said. So now I have homework, which includes some new stretches to loosen up my quads and an exercise where I have to get myself out of a chair using only mostly my left leg (without pushing with my right leg or my arms–much). You should see me try this.

It’s that swerving thing again.

Honestly, despite the fact that I’m glad this girl was picky, this news about my doing things wrong for the last three months was frustrating. Why didn’t someone tell me sooner? My therapist says, unfortunately, a lot of people “phone it in” at work. Maybe they got lazy. Or maybe they didn’t have the knowledge. But you’d think they should have the knowledge, considering what they charge. What the hell ever, at least I know now. We press on.

The visible mirrors the invisible.

It seems that in both my internal and external lives, I’m serving, working to find balance. Funny how the visible mirrors the invisible. I imagine this is often the case, that our bodies and even the entire universe conspire to heal us, to keep us from swerving all over the road of life and find that sweet, steady, balanced spot that feels like home. And perhaps swerving and even falling down now and then are necessary. After all, life’s road is anything but smooth. We’re bound to hit some bumps along the way. And surely these bumps create contrast and remind us that we can rebuild ourselves, that we can fall down and stand back up again stronger, freer.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

Life Is Not a Race (Blog #732)

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This afternoon I saw my dermatologist for a follow-up after last month’s discovery that my skin is generally pissed off by, well, a lot of things. (Aren’t we all?) Anyway, it was the easiest appointment ever. We discussed a couple minor irritations, but basically my skin is fine now. Better than yours, probably.

So there.

After my appointment, I went to a coffee shop and finished reading a book by Sheldon Kopp my therapist recommended. And whereas the book was overall lovely and helpful, it also contained some dated statements (it’s an old book). For example, “Homosexuality is heterosexuality gone astray.” What utter nonsense. As if gay men, for example, really are attracted to the women but simply–unfortunately–wandered off one day, got confused, and couldn’t find their way back to a nice set of tits. Gone astray. Like, Dear me! How did I ever wind up in bed with this naked studmuffin? Please. This just goes to show you–don’t swallow everything you read hook, line, and sinker. Even people with letters after their name don’t know everything.

I guess today was a day for reading, since after finishing the book I just mentioned, I re-read some old blogs, numbers 61-70. In my attempt to re-read all over-700 of them, I’m taking them ten at a time. And whereas I could have read more this afternoon, I figure I won’t get worn out this way. Plus, what’s my hurry? Life isn’t a race. I’ll get there eventually.

Last night I started reading a book called Claim Your Power by Mastin Kipp. It’s basically about discovering your purpose and uncovering any subconscious blocks you may have to achieving it. But like my project of going back and re-reading my blogs, finishing this book is going to take a while, since it asks that readers complete a 40-day workbook/journal and recommends not skipping ahead. Normally, I would anyway. But in an effort to trust the process, this afternoon I completed “day two” and shut the book when I finished. Life isn’t a race. Plus, maybe the ideas in the book will have a chance to sink in this way, a chance to simmer.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

This evening I’ve been fighting a headache. It started to creep up on me at the coffee shop, and since it didn’t let up, I took some pills when I got home. Thank god for pills. Still, they haven’t quite done the trick. Nor has the relaxation mediation I did about an hour ago. So now I’m blogging in bed, horizontal, trying to not make any sudden moves. I’m trying to relax. That’s something I’ve been hyper-aware of lately, just how much I tense up when I feel pain. This, I’m sure, doesn’t help a tension headache. So I’ve been trying lean into my unpleasant experiences rather than push against them. Is this fun? No. Is it helpful? Believe it or not, yes.

I’ve read in a couple different books that say our bodies actually relax more when we pay attention to our pain or tension rather than trying to grin and bear it or ignore it altogether. When we accept what is rather than attempt to push it away. There’s a similar idea that’s presented in the book I started last night–that our unpleasant emotions will dissolve when we fully feel or experience them–not when we shove them down or ignore them. I’m working on this. Earlier today I thought about money and immediately felt stress. And whereas I’d normally “think about something else, think about something else,” today I let myself feel the stress, the panic of scarcity. And I didn’t die. Later, when I handled a money matter online, I didn’t have to pep-talk my way through it. The stress was gone.

Now I’m ready to call it a night. So many times over the last two years I’ve soldiered through this blog despite being tired or sick or having a headache. I’ve soldiered through a lot in life–clenched my jaw, shoved down my feelings, and pushed on. But there’s a price to pay for this, I think, for not listening to the wisdom of your body and emotions. And whereas I often get frustrated because I don’t know what my body is trying to tell me, I think that any discomfort or pain is, at the very least, trying to say, “Stop. Slow down. Sweetheart, life is not a race.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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All great heroes, at some point, surrender to the unknown.

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