Hi, my name is Marcus Coker (CoCo), and I’m 39 years old. Three years ago today I made my first post on this blog when my life was not an absolute mess, but a pretty big mess nonetheless. (See details below.) Since then, I’ve posted every single day. And whereas I don’t currently have the time or energy to sum up this incredible journey, suffice it to say my life is much better now. (For a run-down of the major things I’ve learned, see post #1094, entitled “These Hundreds of Thousands of Words.”) Granted, I still live with my parents, but I’ve come a long way where it counts–on the inside.

I believe anyone else can do the same.

Alas, after having penned 1,096 official blogs (Blog #1,097 is basically just a live video to say farewell), my daily writing (here) has now come to an end. This is bittersweet, of course, but the site itself will continue to stay up, and I have other Me and My Therapist projects in the works. So you’ll be hearing from me soon. In the meantime, feel free to reach out. I do hope this finds you well.

[March 31, 2020]

Hi, my name is Marcus Coker (CoCo), and I’m 36 years old. I started seeing a therapist three years ago this month because I was in a terrible relationship and wanted to figure out whose fault it was. (The above photo was taken about that time. I remember feeling miserable.) The good news is that it was his fault. The bad news is that I thought that dating him was a good idea in the first place. So I’ve been in therapy ever since. But I’ve learned a lot, so that’s a plus. Several months ago, I thought I was ready to stop seeing my therapist and move from Fort Smith, Arkansas, to Austin, Texas. But things haven’t happened quite like I imagined they would, so three weeks ago, I moved in with my parents instead. (That means I’m still in therapy.)

It’s all really sexy, I know.

Mom and Dad don’t have the internet, so rather than stay home with them and watch Days of Our Lives, I’ve started coming to the library, both for the internet and for the quiet. Last year, I began writing two books, and I keep telling myself that I’m going to pick them up and get going again, but it feels like they might be mad at me. Like when you finally get the courage to call up an old friend, and they say something passive aggressive like, “Hey, STRANGER.” That’s what I’m afraid my books will do. So until I get the courage to reintroduce myself to my books, I’m blogging. Because as much as I hate to admit it, all the other writers are right–writers write. Right?

Lastly, although I think my therapist is a badass, I will say that she’s not a fan of social media because it lends itself to miscommunications and misunderstandings. (Seriously.) For this and other reasons, I won’t be mentioning her name. (That’s called a boundary.) But I’d hate for all her help and lessons to not be put to use, so I’ll definitely be talking about those. Because if three years of therapy has taught me anything, it’s this: it’s okay talk about anything. It’s just not smart to do it all online.

For more information about me (including my life as a swing dance instructor), check out Marcus of All Trades.

[March 2017]