The Last Word (Blog #925)

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Currently it’s four in the afternoon, and I feel gross. For the last week and a half I’ve been fighting sinus junk and losing. Last night my dad came down with a sore throat, and today he said, “It’s your fault. You gave it to me.”

That’s me, a giver.

Thankfully, Dad and I have been able to rest today. Last Tuesday, right after I got sick, Dad had a pacemaker put in. “Don’t touch the dressing or take a shower for ten days,” the doctor said. And whereas I remember thinking that ten days was SO FAR away, it wasn’t. This morning Dad had his dressing removed, and everything was fine. Anyway, now Dad’s taking a nap in his room, and I’m in bed–horizontal–in mine. Outside the temperature is dropping. Fall is here. Life is slowing down, urging me to.

Later tonight I plan to go out dancing. Not because I have a ton of energy, but because I think it will be enjoyable to move, to see my friends. Having dealt with sinus issues most of my life, I have a lot of memories of dancing not at my best. There was that holiday performance at a local department store. I could barely stand to get ready. There was that miserable trip down to Houston. Thankfully my fever broke once we arrived. Anyway, in every case I somehow made it, dragged my ass out onto the dance floor and managed to have fun. That’s the point, of course, fun.

Years later, I’d rather have the memory of dancing while sick than not dancing at all. Which is why I plan to get myself together and get out of the house later. Now, granted, if I were at death’s door, running a fever and coughing constantly, I’d stay in. But it’s not THAT bad. I just need to take it easy, pace myself. Perhaps do more talking than dancing. Leave when my body says leave.

One way I’m pacing myself today is getting this blog done now instead of later. So when the dance is done, I’m done. Today’s blog is #925 in a row, and I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve forced myself to stay awake to finish writing. This has been my choice, of course–to write at night, to write at all–but I’m sure my body has paid the price. Our bodies always pay the price. Sometimes they shut us down, force us to rest whether we like it or not. Personally, listening to my body is one of the toughest things I do. I’d much rather tell it how it should feel instead of listen to how it does. Alas, our bodies always get our attention.

They always have the last word.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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In other words, there's always SOMETHING else to improve or work on. Therefore, striving for perfection is not only frustrating, it's also technically impossible.

"

On Holding Patterns (Blog #924)

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After a week of hacking and coughing, last night I gave up and caved in. I took cough syrup. Not that I was opposed to the idea before, things just didn’t seem THAT bad. I know, I sound just like a man. Anyway, it helped. I actually slept and have barely coughed at all today. Granted, I’ve felt loopy, devoid of energy. But whatever. I’ve spent the day resting, watching television shows, eating tacos. I don’t hate these things.

Now it’s 9:30 and I’m ready to go back to bed. Today I’ve been thinking about all the things I could be doing, should be doing–reading, writing, working, exercising. I guess I’ve really bought into the notion that if you want something to happen, anything at all, you have to MAKE it happen. Like right now, this very minute. Talk about stressful, especially when you’re sick. The thought of doing anything right now other than zoning out feels overwhelming. I keep telling myself this feeling will change. At some point I’ll return to life; life will return to me. Until then? I am where I am.

There’s this idea that sometimes life (God, the universe) puts you in a holding pattern. Maybe you’ve felt this way before, like no matter what you do you can’t get traction–with your health, your profession, your sex life. To be clear, it sucks–getting benched by the big boys. But this suckage is by design. That is, whenever life asks you to “sit this one out,” there’s a reason.

A few years ago I sold most my possessions and turned my life upside down in order to concentrate on my writing career. Immediately following, a lot of my plans–to move, to have money, to not be living with my parents–didn’t work out. What did work out, however, is this blog, and as I’ve said a number of times, this blog is the best thing I’ve ever done. This blog has forever change my life for the better. Simply put, although I’ve been in a holding pattern in terms of my outside world, I’ve been set free in terms of my inside one.

This is the point of a holding pattern, to get you to stop struggling so much, to let your old fear-based patterns calm down, and to let new, more productive patterns take root and grow. This could take years, of course, but even getting sick for a couple weeks could be a holding pattern. We think we HAVE to be out there producing, socializing, getting laid. But when you’re sick, you’re sick. Nothing sounds fun. Your new job is to lie down, watch television, be patient. (There’s an idea.) The old you wants to worry about tomorrow, but tomorrow hasn’t come. It never does. All we have is this moment, whatever it looks like.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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None of us is ever really lost. At least we're never really alone. For always there is someone to help point your ship in the right direction, someone who sees you when you can't see yourself.

"

I Can’t Believe I’m Not Better (Blog #923)

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Phew. What a day. This morning I woke up at six to get ready for a wellness exam with my new doctor at eight. (My old doctor recently moved.) Oh my gosh, y’all, you should have seen the sunrise. Hell, you should have seen the early morning traffic. I had no idea there were so many people functioning before noon. Even more, I had no idea I could be one of them. Granted, it’s now ten in the evening and I can barely hold my eyes open. But still. I made it through the day.

Miracles never cease.

Speaking of miracles, this afternoon I got a haircut. Well, a trim. Regardless, I don’t remember the last time this happened. Talk about a delight. My friend Bekah got me fixed right up. She even straightened my hair, added some magic product, and somehow–as my sister said when I sent her a picture–made me look like Fabio. (I can’t believe it’s not butter.) Now, if only I can reproduce this look on my own.

Something that’s been on my mind today has been the idea of integration. Recently I had someone suggest that when you’re on the path of personal and spiritual growth–you know, reading every book you can get your hands on–it’s a good idea to put all the damn books down every now and then. This is tough for me, but the thought is that just because you’ve completed a chapter in a book doesn’t mean you’ve completed a chapter in your life. Said another way, the things we read about, contemplate, and discuss with our therapists need time to integrate or synthesize in our lives, and this can’t happen if we’re always shoving new information in. Rather, we need periods of rest to let things take root and grow.

Personally, I have the hardest time with resting. For over a week I’ve been fighting an upper respiratory something. And whereas it’s gotten a lot better, I’m still cough, cough, coughing, especially at night. I wish I could wave a magic wand and make it go away. I realize, however, that I’m simply going to have to slow down, to stop pushing. I’m going to have to let my body heal at its own pace.

Its own slower-than-Christmas pace.

As a result of this upper respiratory something, something else I’m having to wait on is my weight loss. That is, a few weeks ago I started a diet and exercise program, but it quickly got derailed thanks to this illness. Now, I’ve still been eating at least eighty percent healthy and exercising some. Yesterday I went for a walk. This evening I did a light workout at home. It’s just not the balls-to-the-wall, Richard Simmons sweatfest I originally planned. But I’m telling myself that I’m in this for the long haul, that it doesn’t matter that all the weight I lost at home suddenly reappeared this morning at the doctor’s office. Of course, this was thanks to my clothes and shoes, but still, it was terrifying seeing THAT number.

On a positive note, the nurse said my blood pressure was “really good.”

Probably better than yours.

As I’m writing, a word that keeps coming to mind is patience. So often when I’m not feeling well I put pressure on myself to heal. I think, If I were doing everything right, I wouldn’t be sick in the first place. Of course, this means I suffer twice–once from the physical problem, once from my thinking. Along the same lines, many times since starting therapy I’ve been in situations with someone else and absolutely knew in my gut that something was off. Like that I was being manipulated, condescended to, or judged. More often than not I let it go in the moment because I didn’t know WHAT to do. Only later would I think, I could have said this. I could have walked away. Unfortunately, these thoughts usually end up being less of an impersonal evaluation and more of a personal devaluation, a making myself wrong for not having handling things in a different way.

I end up thinking, I can’t believe I’m not better.

Sometimes you simply need time.

As I think about it now, one of the reasons I don’t fix my hair like Fabio is because until today I haven’t really known how. Why WOULD I know now? This is the first time my hair’s been this long. Likewise, why would any of us know how to handle ourselves confidently and with grace in every moment? As my mom recently said, “They don’t teach that in school.” Amen. Speaking from experience, even if you have a badass therapist and have been at this thing for a while, it’s still tough when you’re caught off guard. Sometimes you simply need time to accurately evaluate a situation and decide how you want to respond. To grow and to change. To integrate.

And yes–I’m sorry to say–to lose weight.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"We were made to love without conditions. That's the packaging we were sent with."

When Something Is Over (Blog #922)

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Some things that inspired me today–

1. A laundry mat

This afternoon I ran an errand in Fort Smith and spotted a laundry mat called Sophia Laundry. The sign said, “Come clean with us.” (Sounds like a party, right?) Anyway, I took notice because Sophia means wisdom. (Philosopher means lover of wisdom.) I thought, What’s the universe trying to say? And whereas the laundry’s slogan obviously meant–get your ass over here and wash your dirty drawers–I took it like to mean–come clean, or be honest with us.

I’ve been thinking about this all day. Not that I feel like there’s something I need to confess to the people who own Sophia Laundry, or to anyone, but I do think it’s what I’ve been doing these last years in therapy and on this blog–coming clean. To me this means being as honest as possible. This may sound like fun, but it’s not. Indeed, it’s really gross. Because coming clean with yourself means getting real about what’s working in your life and what’s not (what snot). It means owning and honoring all your emotions, including your anger. It means setting boundaries about what you’ll accept and not accept from others and, more importantly, yourself. This is hard.

But this is wisdom.

2. A Walk

After I ran my errand in Fort Smith, I stopped for hot tea and ended up walking around a nearby neighborhood. When I weighed in this week I was down (1.4 pounds) but not as much as the previous two weeks (2.4 and 2.6 pounds respectively). I’ve tried not to make a big deal about it, especially since I’ve been sick and haven’t felt like getting to the gym (but have felt like eating cheese). Still, today I thought, I’ve got the time, and it’s a gorgeous day. Let’s walk. Let’s burn some calories. Along the way I thought of a situation that’s been bothering me and remembered something my therapist often says–“If I said, ‘You’ve got thirty seconds to make a decision about this,’ what would you say?” And just like that, I had my answer.

So often we complicate things, but the truth is that part of us always knows. Going back to coming clean, this is why it’s hard. Because once you admit the truth to yourself, then you have to do something about it, and this means things will change. Conversely, there’s no change–and no responsibility–in saying, “I don’t know.” I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to think, I don’t know what to feel. These are phrases we tell ourselves to slow down the speed at which change happens in our lives, to keep things the same, to not grow up. Because we’re afraid. Because we don’t trust that good things are waiting for us. Because we don’t trust ourselves to handle whatever happens–good or bad.

3. A Vacuum Cleaner

Since the beginning of August I’ve been working at a friend’s rent house, transforming the entire thing one room at a time from brown to white. And whereas I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve thought I’d never finish, I eventually did. About two weeks ago I completed the last room–the kitchen. Since then I’ve been working to clean out the garage, where several previous renters had left–well–all sorts of things. Anyway, the entire project wrapped up tonight. My friend and I moved some furniture that’s being sold online, they paid me, and that was that. The new renter moves in later this week.

For me, the closing of this project is bitter sweet. Am I glad to not be rolling paint on ceilings? You’re damn right I am. But will I miss the work (it’s good to be employed) and the chance it gave me to spend time with myself, listen to podcasts, and be productive? Certainly.

I’ve heard it said that we do beginnings really well. Think about it. Whenever we get a new job, spouse, or house, we break open bottles of champagne, throw parties, and post pictures on Facebook. But how often do we do this with endings? Almost never. And yet they are just as important. Indeed, endings are required for beginnings. If you don’t believe me, think about having all your previous lovers following three feet behind you the next time you go out on a date with your current one. Talk about awkward.

Yes, endings are a good thing.

With this in mind, I decided to do a small ritual in order to honor tonight’s ending, to consciously make room for something else to come along. And whereas I guess I could have gone out to eat or celebrated, I simply vacuumed out my car. This seemed appropriate because I used my car to work on this project so much that it collected a lot of work-related debris–dirt, leaves, little flakes of paint. A few years ago I rescued a couple puppies but ending up having to take them to the Humane Society before I had my estate sale. It broke my heart, but I simply couldn’t take care of them. It took me months to wash their paw prints off my car windows. It was like a part of me was holding on. More and more I don’t want to do this. When something is over, it’s over. And that’s okay. Other things will come along.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Better that you're true to yourself and the whole world be disappointed than to change who you are and the whole world be satisfied.

"

A Letter to My Younger Self (Blog #921)

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Dear fifteen-year-old me,

I know you may not recognize me, but I’m you at the age of thirty-nine. I know, we’re old now–all grown up–but we still look pretty good if you ask me. Especially considering all the beer and chocolate cake we’ve had in the last twenty-four years. But I digress. I’m writing because I’ve been thinking about you all evening. This afternoon I saw my chiropractor, and he suggested that the reason I have so many physical problems (sinus infections, tight shoulders, headaches) around my throat (fifth chakra) area is because the throat is where we speak our truth. And–apparently–that’s difficult for me to do.

Now, granted, speaking my truth is easier than it used to be. Certainly it’s easier than when I was your age, and that’s one of the things I’d like to (truthfully) discuss with you. Another thing my chiropractor suggested was that my fear of speaking up was directly related to my survival instinct (first chakra). For example, over the years I’ve worked with or for a number of people–hell, I’ve dated a number of people–to whom I really wanted say, “Fuck you and this noise. I’m out of here.” That was my truth. But because I perceived that I needed their love, money, or approval (or all three), I zipped my lips and stayed. I believe my body has paid the price for this–in stress, upset stomaches, and tensions headaches, among other things.

I’m sorry, body.

Where you come in is that I know all of this people pleasing in order to survive business started when we were a teenager. Probably younger. Things always begin sooner than you think they do. Regardless, looking back I can see that this pattern of behavior was firmly in place when we were in junior high. Dad had just been arrested, tried, convicted, and sent to prison, and Mom was sick. Consequently, you had a lot on your shoulders. A lot. Because you loved your family, you were trying to help them. At the same time, you were working your ass off in school, trying to be the best student. All this while suppressing your sexuality and–more often than not–your authentic responses.

In case I’ve never said it, I’d like to recognize that it was all really too much for us. We did a wonderful job, the best we could, but we could have just as easily cracked up because it was too much for a teenager to gracefully manage. I think the only reason it worked is because our body bore the burden, stored the stress and shoved-down emotions in a thousand little places.

I guess I’d like to talk about those shoved-down emotions. All the anger you felt at the situation and some of the people involved. All the frustration because, despite your best efforts, life didn’t improve. All the disappointment. The lost hope. These emotions haven’t gone anywhere.

I know that I’m a real hard-ass with us most of the time (thirty-nine years). I know that I more than imply that our best isn’t good enough. I say, “If only we were better, these bad things wouldn’t be happening.” But I’d like to say now that I’m really impressed with how you handled everything. I know you did the best you could, and–honestly–it was really fucking great, more than good enough. Looking back I wish we could have said no and hell-no, but I realize the only reason we couldn’t is because no one taught us how. Plus, our saying yes to everyone else instead of ourselves was a matter of survival. Shoving our emotions down was what we had to do in order to get by.

The good news is that it worked. All these years later, we’re still here. Thankfully, we’ve learned a lot along the way. With some good help and support (it does exist), we’ve learned to express our emotions more often, to speak our truth more often. Is it still a challenge? Yes. Perhaps it always will be. We can’t all be Julia Sugarbaker. But things are so much better than they used to be.

Going back to my being a hard-ass, I know that I put a lot of pressure on us to be perfect. Like, if we’re going to speak up for ourselves, we have to do it perfectly–in every situation, anytime someone crosses a boundary. And whereas I think speaking up for ourselves is important, I think it’s even more important for us to speak up TO ourselves. For us to be honest with us about what’s going on inside. Like, I’m angry. I’m discouraged. I’m overwhelmed.

Earlier tonight I really looked at a picture of you. I didn’t rush by it like I usually do or barely glance at it because it was during our awkward phase. No, I really looked at us. And you know what I realized? We weren’t that awkward. We were pretty hot for a teenager. More than that, we were strong. We had everything we needed to get by in life, even if it didn’t feel like it at the time. Anyway. What I really want you to know is that no matter how many years go by, I’m always here for you. Despite all the times I’ve tried to either ignore or intellectualize what we went through, I’m willing to listen–to your anger, your fear, your sadness, your joy. Whatever wants to come up, I’m willing to feel it now. I believe this can only be healing. For you, for me, for us.

Sweetheart, I love you,

Thirty-nine-year-old us

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You have everything you need.

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Be Here Now (Blog #920)

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Every day for the last week I’ve talked about having a sinus infection. And whereas I wish I could say that I’ve been healed (and therefore talk about something else), I haven’t been. Despite the fact that I’ve tried most everything I know to do, nothing has worked. Last night I saw mild improvement but still ended up coughing myself to sleep. Today has been more of the same–gross. Honestly, I’m not sure that what I have IS a sinus infection. Maybe it’s a cold. Maybe it’s allergies. Dad says ragweed is higher than it’s ever been. Although last year I was tested for over fifty allergens including ragweed and didn’t react to a single one of them.

Take that, ragweed. You can’t get a reaction out of me.

Rather than being my usual take-charge self and flitting all over Van Buren and the internet in search of an immediate cure, I’ve spent most of today watching Netflix–in bed, in a chair, on the floor. In the last twenty-four hours I’ve watched four movies or documentaries. I’ve also done some reading. And some laundry. I’ve really tried to take it easy. To just be frickin’ sick and stop trying so hard. To stop being afraid of what might happen if I don’t. If I let go.

This is really hard for me to do.

It’s tough to know when to try and when not to try. For example, if I had’t scoured the internet for home remedies a year and a half ago, I never would have learned about the probiotic that’s been so helpful to my sinuses. But there’s obviously a point when it’s best to call uncle, to let your body rest and decide what’s best. Even if that means being sick.

One of the documentaries I watched this afternoon was called Be Here Now: The Andy Whitfield Story. Andy was the star of the television series Spartacus: Blood and Sand. This means at one point he was strong, healthy, and looked great in a loincloth. However, when he was in his late thirties, before the second season of Spartacus could begin, Andy was diagnosed with cancer. And although he underwent chemotherapy and radiation and even traveled the globe to supplement his treatments with Ayurveda, acupuncture, and yoga, he eventually died, leaving his wife and two small children behind.

The documentary mostly features Andy and his wife discussing their journey with cancer. And whereas for a year or two they were both convinced that he’d overcome his disease, there’s a point at which Andy starts thinking he won’t. The chemotherapy’s not working, the radiation’s not either, and the cancer keeps spreading. Andy says, “I finally thought, Maybe this is it for me, and it was a relief, to stop fighting.” His wife says, “I kept thinking that I needed the cancer to be over so we could get on with our life, but the cancer is our life right here, right now.”

Wow. How many of us think that our life will really start when? When we get over our illness. When we meet a lover. When our ship comes in. I know I think this on almost a daily basis. And whereas I hope many of my dreams will come true, even if they do, they’re simply fantasies now; they’re not my life. Now my life is living with my parents. It’s going to therapy and writing this blog. It’s getting a sinus infection (or cold) now and then. So I’m trying to remind myself that it’s up to me whether or not I embrace these things, whether or not I make the most of them, whether or not I choose to–as Andy had tattooed on his forearm–be here now.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Every stress and trauma in your life is written somewhere in your body.

"

On Bitching and Mitching (Blog #919)

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This entire week I’ve been fighting a sinus infection. And whereas things could be worse, I’ve been losing. Last night I went to bed hacking and coughing, and this morning I woke up hacking and coughing. Thankfully, things calmed down once my feet hit the floor and I became vertical. I guess the junk started draining. Draining, that’s what physical activity has been for me this week. Not impossible, but tiring. This morning I helped a friend load a bunch of trash (old furniture and such) onto a trailer to take to the dump. By the time we were finished, I was out of breath.

And starving. Let’s not forget starving, since three weeks ago I stopped eating before noon.

Does anyone feel sorry for me yet? If so, that’s honestly not my intent. I wish I could talk about something besides this plague–the black lung. (You could, Marcus.) I wish I could show up here and write about ten ways I have it all figured out and why I’m happy and healthy (and horny) all day every day. (You could, Marcus.) Well, yes, I could do that. But that wouldn’t be honest. I don’t feel great inside and out every day. For as hard as I work to be inside-and-out healthy, I still have plenty of things than can instantaneously bring me to my knees or, quite frankly, knock me on my ass.

I said a few days go that being sick carries less of a charge for me than it used to. What I meant is that for the longest time my sinus infections left me feeling hopeless. No matter how many doctors I saw and how many traditional treatments and home remedies I tried, the infections simply wouldn’t go away for very long. Then last year I discovered a probiotic (L. sakei) that turned out to be an absolute lifesaver. I had a sinus infection that lasted over three months, and once I got my hands on a product (kimchi) that contained the bacteria (and swabbed the inside of my nostrils with it), the infection went away in two days. “The universe knew you needed a break,” my therapist said.

“Twenty years,” I said, “is that how long it takes for the universe to figure these things out?”

Both when I had my sinus surgery two and a half years ago and when I learned about L. sakei a year and a half ago, I hoped that that would be it. Like, no more sinus infections ever. Alas, this has not been the case. Clearly, I still get them. And blog about them. That being said, they don’t last as long as they used to. They’re not as severe. And whereas I sometimes have to futz around with half a dozen products to find one with the correct, living bacteria, for me it’s still better (and cheaper) than going the traditional route of expensive doctor visits, antibiotics, and steroids.

But back to feeling hopeless. Admittedly, there have been times this week that I’ve been uber frustrated. Like, This bullshit again? But one of the benefits of so much therapy and honestly blogging about both my challenges and triumphs is that I’ve learned how to talk to myself. What I mean is that I’ve learned through daily practice how to not let myself get swept down the rabbit hole of worry and fear. Since I started this blog and especially since I went through about a year of being off-and-on sick, I’ve had a number of people refer to my writing as “bitching.” That’s fine. My point here isn’t to always be upbeat. My point is to be honest, and sometimes I’m honestly in a bitchy mood, especially when my body feels like a warm pile of shit.

All this being said, in addition to writing every one of my blogs, I’ve also read every one of my blogs at least three times, and although I could be wrong in my assessment, I think I make it a pretty distinct point here to 1) be real, 2) search for hope, and 3) find something good in even my worst days. The way I see it, saying, “This sucks, feel sorry for me,” that’s bitching. But saying, “This sucks, let’s hang in there and use this as a way to grow and become a better person,” that’s what I call mitching. That stands for mature bitching.

I just made that up.

My therapist says she’s a huge fan of bitching. “I love whining, whinging, and grousing,” she says. Not just because that’s the profession she’s in, but because it’s fun to vent, to feel sorry for ourselves. Can it wear your friends the fuck out? You’re damn right it can, which is why I suggest doing most of your emotional vomiting to someone who’s getting paid to listen to you. I also suggest that in addition to bitching you do some mitching. That is, start with the honest, ugly truth. Let your inner child throw a fit. This sucks. I hate it. Life’s not fair. I don’t know what to do. Then let your inner adult have the floor; talk yourself into a better place. All is not lost. There’s always help available. Things can change. I can change.

This is what I mean when I say I’ve learned how to talk to myself. For 919 days in a row (including today), I’ve sat down and been brutally honest about what I’m thinking and feeling. At the same time, I’ve been brutally honest about how I’d LIKE to think and feel (in a word, better). After over two years of doing this, it’s not that my bad days and challenges have disappeared. Certainly not. But what has happened is that now I don’t despair so quickly, if at all. When I do, I can get myself from a bad mood to a good mood in fairly short order.

If you want your life to change, you have to change your life.

This afternoon a probiotic I ordered earlier this week to help my sinuses arrived. And whereas I’ve only used it once, I think (I hope, I pray) it’s helping. I’ll know more tomorrow, but I’m not hacking and coughing as much as I was last night at this time. I have more energy. My point is that if you want anything in your life to improve–including your physical, mental, and emotional health–you’re gonna have to work at it again and again and again. Will you need hope and grace along the way? You bet your bottom dollar you will. None of us make it alone. At the same time, no one does our work for us. If you want your life to change, you have to change your life. This takes focused will and intent, determination and discipline, practice and patience.

It sucks, I know, but I promise you’ll like the results.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Sometimes you have to go back before you can go forward.

"

On Ally Cat Persistence (Blog #918)

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It’s 11:30 at night, and I’m going to try to keep this brief. Because it’s been a long day. Because I’ve still got stuff to do. Because I don’t feel well. All week I’ve been fighting a sinus infection or something gross. And whereas it’s better than it was two days ago, I’m still coughing, hacking, and sneezing.

I’m not impressed.

This afternoon I worked for several hours cleaning out a friend’s rent house and, after hauling two loads of trash to the dump(ster), made a significant dent in things. After I quit for the day, I stopped by an Asian food mart to look for more kimchi, the fermented cabbage that (sometimes) contains the probiotic that helps my sinuses. I say more kimchi because I’ve already purchased three different jars this week. (One of them was five pounds.) Seriously, the stuff is taking over our refrigerator. Still, since what I have clearly isn’t doing the trick, I continue to be persistent in the hunt.

Persistence is really what I want to talk about tonight. When I got out of my car at the Asian food mart, I saw a real scrappy looking tabby cat. You know the kind, gaunt. It was hiding in between a couple cars, snacking on a bit of food that was stuck to the concrete. God knows what it was. Perhaps something that fell out of a customer’s shopping bag or something he fished out of the nearby trash. Anyway, he didn’t run away when I walked by, but he did look at me suspiciously. Like, Don’t come any closer.

Y’all, I’m not an animal lover (I’m an animal liker), but I can’t tell you how much I’ve thought about this fella this evening. I mean, no wonder he was suspicious. He’s obviously had a rough life. How many of us are wary of letting others too close because–I don’t know–we’ve been hurt or are simply used to doing everything for ourselves?

But back to persistence. That’s what really struck me about this ally cat. Now, I clearly didn’t sit down and get his life story, but if he’s even one year old–and he looked older–it’s evident he’s a pretty resourceful feline to take what someone else would throw away and make a meal out of it. Surely we should be able to do the same. I’m not suggesting eating out of dumpsters. I mean metaphorically. Surely we should be able to take a bad situation and find something good in it, something that nourishes us. Get knocked down but get back up again. Put one foot (or paw) in front of the other and do the best we can in this moment.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Rest gives us time to dream. One day, for certain, you’ll wake up. And you’ll be grateful for the time you rested, and you’ll be just as grateful that you’re different, far from the person who fell asleep.

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Together (Blog #917)

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Whenever I’m sick with a sinus infection, like I have been this week, I judge how sick I am by the color of the junk I cough up when I first get out of bed. It’s gross I know. (Don’t worry, I won’t get too descriptive.) But take yesterday for example, I hacked up this stuff that was dark and bloody. I thought, Oh yeah, I’m sick. But this morning I hacked up this stuff that was like, light yellow. So I thought, Okay, all right. Go team. This is progress. We’re on the mend.

As has been the case for the last year and a half, I credit my sinus improvements to probiotics. Not the kind you swallow, but the kind you either swish around in your mouth or sniff up your nose. I get it, it’s weird. But the idea is that sinus infections are caused by “bad” bacteria (I put bad in quotes because I’m sure the bacteria’s mothers don’t think of them as bad), and the probiotics contain “good” bacteria that crawl around in your sinuses, find those critters that are causing your nasty infection (I imagine they have to use teeny-tiny flashlights), and eat them for breakfast (with little forks). It’s sad to think about, I know. All those grieving bacteria mothers. But hey–circle of life and all that.

Assuming the probiotics I bought and started yesterday are the reason for my less colorful mucus, I’ve continued using them today. And whereas my health hasn’t miraculously turned around, I have felt better, more energetic. I’ve been coughing less. This morning I took it easy (I watched a documentary about Pixar, the computer-animated film company, on Netflix), but this afternoon I rallied and did some odd job work for a friend of mine–hauling trash to the dump(ster) and taking donation items to Savers. This evening I got out to teach a dance lesson, but when they canceled at the last minute I ran some personal errands instead. Returned non-used items to Lowe’s and Walmart, that sort of thing.

At one point in time I really flipped shit whenever a dance lesson canceled. Not because I didn’t understand that things come up, but because I get paid by the hour. In a very real sense, I count on that money. Still, these last several years have taught me that things always work out and something else always comes along. So rather than launching into my worry-wart routine this evening when my lesson canceled, I shrugged my shoulders and thought, Whatever. What-the-hell-ever. Now I can run those errands. And whereas running my errands wasn’t as lucrative as teaching a lesson would have been, it was perhaps just as fun.

I’ll explain.

Immediately upon leaving my teaching space, I saw three deer. No kidding. They’d just crossed the street and actually turned around to look at me. Stopping my car, I pulled out my camera. At this point the deer ran off. But then I looked out my other window and saw another deer, and this one let me take its picture. (How polite.) Talk about a magical moment. For this brief instant I wan’t thinking about sinus infections, lost wages, or anything stressful. I was just right there, right then. We were there together.

After my moment with the deer, I went to Lowe’s. There I told the ladies at the customer service desk that I’d like to return an item (a package of nuts and bolts). Well, one of the ladies said, “Oh, I’m sorry, it’s No-Returns Thursday.”

“Oh, no,” I laughed. “Not No-Returns Thursday!”

Then the other lady said, “Don’t worry. We’ll make an exception for you because you have great hair.”

Phew, I thought, my great hair saves the day again.

(For the record, my hair has never saved the day before today.)

I can’t tell you how much this interaction thrilled me. Earlier today I stopped by the bank to reorder checks (which I also did last week, but the checks came back with a spelling error on them–the orderer typed NPRTH instead of NORTH), and whereas the teller was pleasant and helpful, she wasn’t playful. Maybe that wouldn’t be appropriate at a bank, but my point is that we often take ourselves and what we’re doing so seriously that we miss the living, breathing people standing in front of us. We forget that we can make of any moment what we want to. We forget that regardless of our life circumstances we can have fun.

We can be right here, right now together.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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The truth doesn’t suck.

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Not Just on the Roof (Blog #916)

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I took the above photo several years ago from the window of my old dance studio. (Facebook reminded me about it today.) Back then I was on the second story of a cool building in Historic Downtown Van Buren. Sometimes after everyone else left I’d sit in the window or crawl out on the roof and watch traffic go by and stare at unaware pedestrians, maybe while listening to Jamie Cullum or smoking a cigarette. Especially on evenings when the sun was setting and the sky was a Crayon box of colors, it was like my little piece of heaven. I don’t miss many things about the studio now, but I miss that spot and the feeling I had sitting there. As The Drifters so accurately said, “On the roof, it’s peaceful as can be.”

Last night I went to bed sick with sinus junk. And whereas I was hoping my probiotics would heal me during the night, they didn’t do crap, which means I woke up with more (really colorful) junk this morning. This was frustrating, but not completely disheartening. I have, after all, been down this road dozens and dozens of times before, and my body always eventually finds its balance. A word that’s been popping up in my experience the last twenty-four hours is harmony, the idea of everything working together in unison. This is what I’m hoping for–harmony in my sinuses, harmony in my body. It’s what I’m praying for. It’s what I’m working toward.

Despite my having a head full of phlegm, today has been lovely. I saw my therapist this morning, ate a tasty salad for lunch, then spent the afternoon at a coffee shop, reading, learning. Then I ran all over town in search of MORE probiotics to hopefully help my sinuses. This mission was only mildly successful–I found one new thing to try–but that’s okay. I enjoy the hunt, the trial and error. Do I enjoy hacking and coughing in the meantime? Hell no. But I have noticed the last few months that being sick carries less of a “charge” for me than it used to. What I mean is that I used to really freak out, worry, and stress every time I got sick. I’d think that God was punishing me, that if I were only a better or smarter person I wouldn’t be sick in the first place. Now most of that guilt and fear is gone. I still get sick, I just don’t beat myself up about it like I did before. Plus, I have more hope. Over a year ago I had a sinus infection that lasted three months. It was hell, but I made it. So I know whatever happens from here on out, I’ll make that too.

One of the things my therapist and I discussed today was abundance, which is something she deep-down believes in and something I think sounds good if you say it fast. That being said, I’m coming around to the idea. Anyway, she’s recently been sick also, and she said that when you’re an independent operator (who gets paid by the hour) and get sick and can’t work, it’s easy to question the notion that you’re always supported by God or the universe. “But we are,” she said. “We always have more than we need.”

“I have more snot than I need,” I said.

I told my therapist that recently I’ve had some strong emotional reactions to things. For example, I got immediately angry when someone sent me a text message. I got squirmy when someone else asked me to do a certain odd job. And whereas I knew that my emotions were information from my intuitive system saying respectively, “Stand up for yourself,” and, “Run, Will Robinson,” my therapist suggested thinking of my emotional reactions as “tells.” Like, in the future when I become immediately angry or squirmy, I’ll know it’s my gut’s way of communicating, “Look alive, kid.” She said she has her tells for knowing when a potential client won’t work out and always regrets it when she goes against her inner guidance.

I realize I’m jumping around here, but this is how my therapy sessions work. Shit happens in between visits, and I make a note about it. Then when I finally see my therapist, I hop from note to note. One minute we’re talking about comedians on Netflix (we both have a thing for stand-up), the next minute we’re talking about a confrontation I’ve had or need to have, and the next minute we’re talking about relationships. Today she said, “Relationships aren’t for punks.” This came up because I’ve had a number of friendships fizzle out over the last several years and sometimes still feel gross about it. I think, Who was right and who was wrong? Am I being stubborn? Am I holding a grudge? But as my therapist explained, “Relationships are real messy. Both parties have to be adults. They have to be willing to own their shit and apologize when necessary.”

It’s easy to romanticize the past, to look back at photos and think, Those were the good old days. Bitch, please. There’s no such thing. Sure, there might have been something in your past that you enjoyed and wish you could experience again, but–I swear–it wouldn’t be the same even if you could. Additionally, we forget that life–our past, present, and future–is always a mixed bag. I miss sitting on the roof at my old dance studio. I miss that peaceful feeling. However, I don’t miss the drama of owning the studio or my lack of self-awareness at the time. Back then I had a great view of downtown, but a piss-poor view of myself and my relationships. Largely thanks to therapy and this blog, now my perspective has shifted dramatically for the better. Doing The Hard Work has made all the difference. Now I can get that peaceful feeling anywhere–because it’s inside me. Not just on the roof.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If you think only girls cry or that crying is inappropriate for some reason, fuck you. Some things are too damn heavy to hold on to forever.

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