Okay, I’m just going to be real. Things aren’t looking good tonight. I got up early today for a checkup with my doctor, and now it’s three-thirty in the morning, and I’m spent. My brain is well-done. I mean, I guess plenty of things happened today, but all I can think about is the zit in my nose. Ugh, the inside kind. Those are the worst. Maybe I should wash my face more. That might help. Why God invented zits in the first place, I’ll never know. As if life weren’t hard enough already. Hell, I probably signed up for this before I incarnated. Yes, that’s correct. I’ll take the advanced course–the gay one with zits in my thirties. Yes, I’m sure.
All right, are we done yet? Can I take a muscle relaxer and go to bed now–start drooling on myself?
Today my doctor and I talked about body odor. I think the last time I blogged about it, it was a lot better. It still is a lot better, but it’s not PERFECT. So I asked, and at first the doctor thought maybe my sense of smell had changed due to my chronic sinus infections and the surgery I had six months ago. (Okay, shit. I’m awake. The house mouse just ran across the living room floor. Dad and I decided if we called it a pet and gave it a name, we wouldn’t have to kill it.) Anyway, back to the odor, the doctor said, “So let me get this straight. You’re THE ONLY ONE who’s smelled it?”
Well, I guess I was a tad defensive, like, yeah, but IT’S REAL. I said, “One friend said she didn’t notice the smell, but she also didn’t have her nose in my crotch.”
After a decent amount of head-scratching, the doctor said he thought it was a bacteria (not a yeast) overgrowth. He said, “I know it’s counterintuitive to think that you can take antibiotics and end up with an overgrowth of bacteria, but antibiotics don’t kill ALL bacteria evenly.” I’m not sure why I’m telling you all this, but he ended up prescribing a cream that cost a hundred and twenty dollars without insurance. So if and when anyone DOES have their nose in my crotch, I sure hope they freaking appreciate all the time, effort, and money spent to make their visit hospitable. (Please go online and fill out this survey in order to receive a discount for the next time you’re here.)
Okay, my mind wandered–by which I mean that I looked at Facebook. And I’d just like to say that therapy has sucked a lot of fun out of life because I saw an ad for a tank top that said, “Touch my butt,” and all I could think was, That’s totally without boundaries, inappropriate, and desperate.
And I wonder if they have it in a medium. (Kidding.)
Today my chiropractor asked me if I thought one of the two massage therapists I see in his office was a better fit for me. Well, this felt like I was being asked to give up peanut butter or chocolate cake. I thought, But I love them both! So I said, “You know, each brings something different to the table (the massage table–ba dum ching!), and I’d really hate to be without either one of them.” (He seemed okay with that. Phew.)
This is something I’ve been thinking about lately, the idea that it takes a village, or, as my friend Sara says, “It takes a village–and a vineyard.” Anyway, maybe it’s because I’ve been seeing so many healthcare people lately–three massage therapists, two chiropractors, one physical therapist (and a partridge in a pear tree). I mean, part of me wishes that I could give one–and only one–of them the credit for my progress, but it really has been a group effort.
Tonight I did an exercise in my creativity workbook where I had to list twenty things I like to do (read, dance, deodorize down south, whatever), and also had to list whether each activity listed was something done alone or with others. Well, I didn’t tally my responses, but I think it was about half and half, which would seem about right. My therapist told me once that of all the different types of extroverts, I’m the most introverted kind. Let’s spend time together! Okay, I’m done now.
Lately it feels as if I’ve been doing a lot of things on my own. I mean, I socialize with others, but I almost always work alone, often eat alone, go to movies alone. And I really am okay with that–I’m not fishing for a pat on the back or a touch on the butt. But as I finished the activity tonight, I was reminded–right there in black and white–that I really do like being social sometimes. Just last night at improv class, I thought, It really does feel great to be part of a group. Tonight I got invited to spend the evening with some former students and friends at their home, and it was a couple hours of simply being real, honestly connecting. Yeah, this feels great too.
My therapist says sometimes that she’s not the be-all, end-all in my story of personal growth, that she’s one of many resources I have. I guess it’s always like that. Whether it’s a doctor, a massage therapist, a regular therapist, or a friend, no one person (including yourself) is the be-all, end-all. Rather, it does seem to take a village, a community of hearts and minds coming together to help each other, each bringing their own piece of the puzzle, each helping the others to heal.
Quotes from CoCo
"We were made to love without conditions. That's the packaging we were sent with."