Hopscotch (Blog #747)

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Today’s things–

1. I hopped

This morning I got up early to go to physical therapy. Normally I go in the afternoon, but today I had conflicts. (Don’t we all?) When I saw my knee surgeon last week, he said I could start jumping, so today my therapist said, “Let’s get to it.” Oh my gosh, y’all, talk about scary. The task was to jump over a little line of tape on the floor–forward, back, forward, back–but the thought of doing so was terrifying. I simply wasn’t sure my body could do it. But then, just like that, it did. I did. After I did it several more times, my physical therapist gave me a thumbs up. A thumbs up! Maybe in another week or two, I can win a hopscotch contest.

You know, against an eight-year-old.

2. I cried

Later this morning I saw my therapist, and when I told her I’d recently cried while going through some exercises in a self-help book (and cried some more while telling her about me crying), she told me to keep that shit up. “I remember when you never cried,” she said “and since there were plenty of times in your life when you should have, you owe back taxes.” Emotional back taxes. Ugh. This is a thing. Deal with your emotions now, or deal with them later. Not that this is easy to do, to feel your feelings. It’s not. I hate it. I’d much rather eat chocolate and usually do. Still, the benefit I feel every time I have an emotional release far outweighs the fuss I put up about not wanting to have one. So I try to stay open to my emotions. I say “try to stay open” because although I’m great at shoving down my emotions, I’ve never been able to purposefully make them come up. They either do or they don’t.

3. I got irritated

This afternoon I saw someone new at my chiropractor’s office who gave me some exercises to help my right shoulder, which has been bothering me. And whereas the person was helpful and kind, I found myself being annoyed by them. Maybe this is because they felt like chatting (“Where do you go to church? Do you have kids?”), and I didn’t (I’d just left therapy and had been crying). Plus, we’d just met. Some boundaries please.

4. I got un-irritated

Later I had a dental appointment (today I had a lot of appointments), and as much as I was irritated with the person at my chiropractor’s office, I was delighted with my dental hygienist. Granted, she’s cleaned my teeth before and we have a rapport, but she was the perfect mix of professional and friendly. Plus she was funny. Funny always helps. My therapist says humor really can be the most healing thing. She must be right–I left the dentist’s office with not only no cavities, but also with a better mood.

5. I helped pick out colors

This evening I helped my friend Bonnie pick out possible colors to paint her house, which is currently being remodeled in order to sell. It took forever, but we finally came up with several options that would compliment not only each other, but also what’s already there. Several times I thought, We’re getting nowhere, but then it happened. “What about THAT ONE?” one of us said, and we were off to the races.

Healing, I’m finding, is like this. You spend a lot of time thinking that none of your efforts are working. Your emotions are all over the place, like hopscotch. You can’t see how everything, how you, fit together. And yet it does. You do.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can’t play small forever.

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On Constriction and My Inner Critic (Blog #746)

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Today there wasn’t a damn thing I had to do. Not an errand to run, not an appointment to keep. Tomorrow, on the other hand, is chock-full of to-do items. But not today. Nope, I slept in then did whatever the hell I wanted, whenever I wanted to do it. I don’t say this to brag–look at me, I don’t have a schedule–but rather in appreciation. Often I bemoan the lack of structure in my life–no regular job, no regular paycheck, woe is me. But today, as much as ever, I realized that I’m grateful for this period of my life. As I’ve said before (and talk about every day, every damn day), I’m learning a lot, growing a lot, healing a lot. This is both important and huge and wouldn’t be possible–I don’t imagine–if I were involved in the fast-paced rat race.

It seems learning, growing, and healing all require slowing down.

This afternoon I worked more on a puzzle I recently picked back up. I’d started it with my sister back in December. I can’t tell you how much fun I’m having, seeing the whole thing come together. Not that I’m anywhere near the end, but I can see progress. It too is slow-going, literally one piece at a time.

While working on the puzzle, I listened to a podcast/talk about trauma and healing by Judith Blackstone. It was just a teaser of her work and I’d like to check out more, but it was fascinating. According to her, one of the ways in which our bodies respond to trauma is by constricting. Constriction, she says, is often the only method through which we are able to either control a situation (or ourselves) or create a defense to a threat. For example, if you were told as a child to shut up, your body might constrict or tighten up somewhere around your throat. Or if you were spanked or abused, your body might constrict around your hips.

This last weekend I started reading a book about Internal Family Systems (IFS). I mentioned IFS two days ago, but the idea is that all of us have a sundry of “parts” that make up our thoughts and emotions. The example I used before was that I have parts that are critical. I also have parts that feel ashamed, vulnerable, and less than, and parts that feel proud, confident, and angry. The book I’m reading, by Richard C. Schwartz, points out that our parts are often in opposition to each other, that one part may not like another. This explains why one minute you can think it’s a good idea to eat chocolate cake, and the next minute you’re beating yourself up for actually eating it. Like, maybe your inner child said to eat it, then your parent (or inner critic) punished you for doing so.

Can’t we all just get along?

My therapist and I have discussed this idea in different terms. She says our mind is like a banquet with many guests. And whereas all guests are welcome, not every guest should get to sit at the table. Something I’ve said before is that my inner critic is welcome in the room, but he doesn’t get to run the show. Marcus at the Head of the Table gets to run the show. However, as I’ve been reviewing this way of looking at things the last few days, I’ve realized that although I’ve said (and thought) that all guests are welcome, I really don’t act like it. Rather, I ignore a lot of my “guests” and do my best to banish them against the wall or out of the room altogether. Like, shut up, you’re not important. But the book I’m reading says every part is important. And whereas they don’t have to run the show, they do want and need to be heard.

An exercise the book suggested was to pick a part, any part, and dialogue with it. Like, Hey, what’s your deal, inner critic? Why are you so critical? I’d really like to know. So that’s what I did this afternoon. I talked to my inner critic. I’ll spare you the details (they’re personal), but basically my inner critic said it felt like it HAD to be critical because my inner child was too trusting and had been hurt or taken advantage of in the past. And whereas this might sound like a bunch of bullshit, I ended up crying when my inner critic said, “It hurts to be this uptight all the time.” So I don’t think it’s bullshit. Plus, for the rest of the day I’ve felt better–less constricted–like, um, part of me loosened up.

Personally, I wish that all my parts would loosen up or let go all at once. BAM, we’re healed. Of course, this wouldn’t be healthy. Nobody (no body) constricts overnight, and nobody (no body) un-constricts overnight. Healing is a circuitous journey. It’s one piece at a time. And whereas I used to think I’d never heal, more and more I believe that I will. Not that “healed” is a destination you can arrive at. We’re always healing something. But I do think longstanding problems can be resolved or at least vastly improved. In my experience, this starts with accepting yourself. That is, it starts with accepting all parts of yourself, especially the parts you may find embarrassing or wrong. It starts with getting quiet and saying, Sweetheart, I’m here for you. Talk to me. I’m finally listening.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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On Boundaries, Bridges, and Walls (Blog #745)

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Yesterday I house sat for a friend of mine who has four dogs. You should have seen me trying to dry them off when they came in out of the rain last night. You should have also seen me stumble out of bed this morning at six-thirty to let them outside. No, I take that back. You shouldn’t have. It wasn’t pretty. I wasn’t pretty. This boy needs his beauty rest. Which I got eventually. After letting the dogs outside, I went back to sleep.

When I woke back up at eleven-thirty, I was refreshed. What a lovely day, I thought. Then I realized I’d forgotten to put a tracker on the youngest dog’s collar. Well shit, I thought as I leaped out of bed. What if she’s run off? (My friend lives in the country.) Thankfully, she hadn’t. However, despite my best efforts, she wouldn’t come back to the house or even let me near her to put the tracker on. For over three hours I periodically went outside and tried to approach the dog. Every time she ran off. Even treats didn’t do the trick. Nothing worked. My friend sent me a text and said to scoop her some canned dog food into a bowl, but even that failed. Granted, it attracted the three other dogs and even a cat, but not the dog I needed it to. Seriously, I might as well have been trying to catch a bunny rabbit with a butterfly net.

I know people like this, who run away when you try to connect with them. My therapist says the technical term is “avoidant attachment,” meaning they avoid making (even healthy) attachments. She says if you want to drive yourself crazy, try caring about someone like this. (It’s hell.) But back to the dog. Finally, I tried a different approach. Slowly, I walked down the long driveway, ignoring her. (She followed.) Then I sat down in a chair, still ignoring her. The next thing I knew, she was right beside me, panting. Then she just sat there as I petted her and attached the tracker. What the hell? For three hours she runs away from me, then the second I stop giving a shit, she’s practically up in my lap.

As my therapist says, indifference is the great stimulus to wanting.

Think about that.

After this encounter, I put the above-mentioned bowl of dog food on the porch. And just like that, the dog that had given me so much trouble and avoided all my begging, pleading, and bribing, was on the porch licking the bowl clean. I swear. Some creatures have to have EVERYTHING on THEIR terms.

Clearly, I’m not the dog whisperer. And whereas trying to get my friend’s dog to come near me was frustrating, I realized it wasn’t personal. For her, it was probably a game. Or perhaps she doesn’t like her tracker and remembered the last time (a couple weeks ago) I put in on her. This morning I listened to a podcast about trauma, and one of the speakers said that we (as humans) often avoid others because some part of us is afraid. Some part of us thinks, I’ve trusted people before and got seriously hurt. I’m not going to let that happen again! So we avoid attachments. In order to protect ourselves, we build walls.

Personally, I used to get a lot of shit for my walls. My friends were always nice about it, but they’d joke that I’d only let them so close, that I kept them at a distance. I’m sure I still do this at times. Old habits die hard. Plus, I have this thing for boundaries. But my therapist says boundaries aren’t walls, they’re bridges. (Isn’t that cute?) That is, walls simply keep people out; boundaries inform others how they can get close to us. They’re like the rules of board game. They say, “This is how we can play together.”

Personally, I think boundaries should be taught in school or Sunday school or wherever teaching is offered. For me, they’ve been much more useful than Algebra ever has been. (Sorry, math teachers.) But seriously, boundaries get talked about a lot as a concept, but they’re rarely practiced or properly modeled. My therapist says they scare people. Maybe because people hear “boundaries” and think walls. But the two are vastly different. Plus, think about this–walls work both ways. That is, sure, they keep others from getting in (phew, you can’t get hurt), but that also means you can’t get out. You’ve got all this love and compassion inside you (don’t tell me you don’t), and there’s nowhere for it to go. Because it’s trapped. Because you’ve built this great barrier. Because, you know, you’re an island.

That’s what I used to think. I am a rock, I am an island. Like the Simon and Garfunkel song. This thinking, of course, was utter bullshit. We’re meant for connection. My friend’s dog showed me that today. She wanted that dog food just as badly as I wanted her to have it (I was tired of holding it). But she needed to feel safe first. She needed me sitting down first. That was her boundary. That was her bridge. I think we’re all looking for this–a bridge, a way to connect–with nearly everyone. I’m not saying this is easy. It’s tough to invite people in, even on your terms. It’s tough to trust people. Because people can hurt you. But people can also heal you.

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.

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All Parts Are Welcome (Blog #744)

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This evening I worked for an hour. An entire hour. (I do work sometimes.) I taught dance at a wedding, as part of the reception. The bride and groom wanted their guests to have something to do while they were having their pictures taken and the main room was being “flipped” from a sanctuary to a dining hall/dance party central. I thought this was thoughtful. For those who didn’t take the dance lesson, there was corn hole.

It’s always good to have options.

Since the wedding and reception was out-of-town, I spent all day getting ready for the affair. Funny how you can take hours preparing for a one-hour deal. Still, a boy’s gotta shower, and this boy also needed to borrow a portable speaker for playing music. You’d think I’d have one as a dance instructor, but I don’t. Thank God for friends.

The event tonight was held at a historic site that was originally one of the first colleges in Arkansas. You should have seen it. You could see it if I had taken pictures, but I didn’t. Well, I did take one, of the dessert table. They offered a selection of pies. A selection of alcohol would have been better, but you take what you can get. A calorie is a calorie. I went with the caramel apple pie, which almost made up for the fact that I got absolutely windblown and soaked walking into the building when I first got there. I hate the rain, especially when it’s cold, especially when I have to walk through it and–thanks to my bum knee–my max speed is two miles per hour.

But I digress.

The lesson itself went great. Fabulous, really. As good as any I’ve ever taught at a wedding or similar function. Normally you have to beg and plead people to participate, but most these folks jumped right in. Plus, there was a door to shut out those who didn’t jump in, and that way they weren’t a distraction. What struck me the most was that everyone seemed so friendly. Even the guys, who are normally stand-offish when it comes to dancing, were laughing and carrying on. Sober! As for me, I was a bit cranky. I’ve been a bit cranky lately. (Did I mention I hate the rain?) And whereas I used to hide it, lately I’ve been rolling with it. I’m still fun and charming (I think), just more–um–sarcastic/cynical/droll. In terms of tonight’s lesson, this means I didn’t put on a face. If someone was screwing up or interrupting, rather than stew about it, I addressed it.

“I need you to do this next part with your mouths closed.”

My therapist says that when you’re not trying to impress anyone–when you’re simply showing up as yourself in the moment–that’s called self-possession. And not that I have this down pat, but I’ve found myself in several situations lately where I haven’t felt the need to put on an act. Tonight, for example, part of me felt tired, another part felt sad, another part felt frustrated (sarcastic, cynical), and another part felt playful and curious (droll). And rather than try to suppress one part or play up another, I simply let them all come to the party and continued to do my job. Now, whether this “worked” for anyone else or not, I don’t know. It’s not about them. But I do know that I had more honest-to-god and heart-to-heart conversations with total strangers tonight than I have in a long time.

First, there were several guys and girls in the class with whom I had a lot of light-hearted banter. One guy accidentally learned the girl’s part, and I said, “Dude, this is your once chance to lead in your marriage, and you’re screwing it up.” Later he said, “You found me out! I’m feminine!” Another guy, who apparently knew the first one, also learned the wrong part. When I told him why things weren’t working, he said, “I was watching my friend!” I said, “Of all the people in the room you could have copied–.”

After the lesson, while I was sitting alone and waiting for dinner to be served, one of the groom’s relatives struck up a conversation with me. Just started talking about his travel habits and business out of the clear blue sky. Weird because his business had to do with writing and psychology. And no, I hadn’t said a word about my personal interests or this blog, nor did I. Rather, I just figured it was one of those odd universe things. Then later a bridesmaid–again, out of nowhere–told me about a family tragedy and how writing helped her heal. Now seriously, of all the random people at that wedding who could have talked to me.

More and more, I think less and less is random.

For the reception, the couple had a swing band. Y’all, I would have killed to have been out there dancing. However, thanks to my knee, I wasn’t. (Although I did dance with the bride.) Instead, I ate my apple pie and judged people. Ugh. My inner critic always has so much to say. And whereas I’d normally be thinking that I should shut him up, tonight I wasn’t. I plan to say more about it later, but this afternoon I heard a podcast with psychologist Richard C. Schwartz, who pioneered a type of therapy called Internal Family Systems (IFS). As I understand it, IFS proposes that we all have “parts” of ourselves that have unique voices and interact much like the members of a family. I think it’s another way of talking about archetypes. I have my inner critic. But the idea is that each part has A REASON for what it thinks and how it behaves, and that reason probably has something to do with keeping you safe. For example, my people pleaser most likely developed because at some point my survival depended on keeping other people (like my parents or teachers) happy.

One of Schwartz’s catchphrases is “all parts are welcome.” That is, so often we try to banish parts of ourselves. We think, “I’m a real shit-head for doing that thing I told myself I wouldn’t do again” and that we’re bad for having done it or thought it in the first place. But perhaps at one time that thought or thing was useful, even necessary. So Schwartz says a good approach is to get curious, to listen to what that part has to say rather than tell it to shut the hell up. Because maybe it’s scared, and maybe you need to cry. This was my approach both is my class and at the reception tonight, to simply listen to myself. Even the cranky parts, even the critical parts. And not that I had any major breakthroughs, but at least I wasn’t putting any pressure on myself to be anything that I wasn’t (or am not). Which is, of course, a breakthrough.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Of all the broken things in your life, you’re not one of them–and you never have been.

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One Day at a Time, Sweet Jesus (Blog #743)

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This afternoon I worked on a puzzle that my sister and I started back in December. Alas, we didn’t get very far. We basically finished the border, the easy part. For months the puzzle has sat on our spare coffee table (that’s right, we have two coffee tables, suckahs!), and for months I’ve felt guilty about it. Another unfinished project. I guess it wasn’t time. But then today while I was listening to a podcast, it was. For over an hour I combed through hundreds of pieces and actually made some progress. Slowly but surely, a shape emerged.

Recently I heard a comedian–I can’t remember who–make fun of puzzles. He basically said, “They’re not that hard. They’re not even surprising. You’ve got a lid that SHOWS YOU how it’s supposed to turn out.” I thought about this today as I worked on my above-mentioned puzzle and periodically checked the lid to see where a piece went. No surprises here.

Earlier today I re-read more old blogs. Whenever I do this, I read ten at a time. I’m up to number 90 now. Part of me feels as if this project (both the blogging itself and the re-reading) is taking FOR-EV-ER, but obviously a lot can get done one day at a time, one (or ten) blogs at a time. This evening I went to the gym and spent thirty minutes on the elliptical, a machine I tolerate. And whereas it wasn’t “fun,” I made the time pass more quickly by thinking Just one more minute thirty times. My point–it helps to break things up into smaller pieces. You can seriously overwhelm yourself if you look at the big picture.

For over twenty years my dad and I have had this running joke about the song One Day at a Time, Sweet Jesus (that’s all I’m asking from you). It started when Dad was in prison. I guess he and his friends used to sing it on Sundays. You can see how a tune like that could resonate with inmates–or anyone going through a tough time. Like, I’m not asking you to help me get through this entire damn year, Lord, just today.

Of course, if you get through today every day for a year, you’ve gotten through a year. (God, Marcus, you really are profound sometimes.) But seriously, we complicate things. Once, when I asked my friend Chelsea how to dance fast Lindy Hop, she said, “Dance Lindy Hop faster.” No shit–I paid for that advice. Later, I realized how correct it was. If you have solid technique, you can dance at any speed. If you don’t have solid technique, you’ll notice problems at high speeds, but the truth is you’re doing something wrong at slower speeds too. Bad technique is bad technique. Anyway, my point is that the answers we’re looking for are simple. Maybe not easy, but simple. How do you blog every day for a year? You blog every day for a year. How do you put together a thousand-piece puzzle?

One piece at a time.

One difference between a puzzle and a creative project, however, is the lid. That is, with any creative project–writing or dancing, for example–you often don’t know where you’re going or have a picture of the end product. When I started dancing twenty years ago, no one showed me a video of what I’d personally look like if I put in 10,000 hours. Likewise, when I started this blog two years ago, I may have had the goal to write every day, but I didn’t know what the actual results would be or how it would change me. I didn’t have a lid. I still don’t. And yet, slowly but surely, a shape has emerged.

I think it’s safe to say that nobody knows where they are going (except to bed, maybe). Nobody has the lid for their life. This means anything can happen. Surprise! When I started therapy, I had no idea of how I’d change. I simply felt compelled to explore the path. Five years later, here I am, still exploring, still surprised by the results. Joseph Campbell said, “Not all who hesitate are lost. The psyche had many secrets in reserve. And these are not disclosed unless required.” I love this quote. To me it means that when you’re working on a creative project or even yourself, you really have no idea what’s possible. We tell ourselves, I can’t do that or That could never happen, but the truth is that we don’t know until we try, until we keep showing up one day at a time, Sweet Jesus.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Sure, we forget it plenty of times, but on the inside we’re all shining. This is what gives me hope, knowing that we are all radiant.

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I Know Who I Am (Blog #742)

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Today’s happenings–

1. I ran

This afternoon I went to the gym with my dad and aunt and ran for 45 minutes straight on the treadmill. This amounted to 3.3 miles and was the longest in both time and distance I’ve gone since my knee injury and subsequent surgery this last December. Let’s hear it for progress. Let’s also hear it for breathing hard, grunting in front of strangers, wearing a sweat-soaked, sopping wet t-shirt (I could have won a contest), and being absolutely sore and worn out later in the day.

2. I got a compliment

This evening I went to see a play at the Fort Smith Little Theater–The Graduate. And whereas the play was delightful, what I’d really like to talk about is my arm pits. I should back up. A couple years ago after going through several rounds of antibiotics, I developed a body odor problem. At least I thought it was a problem. I tend to obsess about little things. Anyway, it’s been an off-and-on thing ever since. One minute I think I have it under control, then the next minute I smell like onions. And whereas I’m always trying different things to help, I’ve recently thought, Screw this. I smell how I smell. I accept myself for who I am.

So get this shit.

Tonight a random stranger, who was sitting next to me during the first half of the show but moved one row down to be by her friend at intermission, told me I smelled good. Like, she went on and on about it to her friend, to the point that I was fanning myself so her friend could get a whiff. There they were, asking if I wore cologne, and I said, “No, but I did take a shower today.” The friend said, “Do you use a shower gel–ANYTHING?” So I said, “Well, I just got a new bar of soap (I didn’t tell them it was because I’m allergic to regular soap)–made out of goat’s milk.”

“Oh yes,” the friend said, like AHA, that’s the ticket. “GOAT’S MILK.”

Y’all, I can’t tell you how good this made me feel.

Daddy’s still got it.

3. I got another compliment

After the show I went backstage to see some friends, and another total stranger told me she liked my aesthetic. I was wearing a t-shirt, jeans, and flip-flops. Oh, and Robert, my brown workman’s jacket. Anyway, I started to brush it off, like, Yeah, some aesthetic. My entire outfit cost twenty-five dollars. But then I thought, She’s entitled to her opinion. So I thanked her and introduced myself instead.

Daddy’s still got it.

4. I got frustrated, then thoughtful

Well crap. Maybe Daddy’s still got it (and to be clear, I impressed a couple ladies tonight, but they are not my target audience), but his website doesn’t. Just as I was saving this post, an issue came up where I couldn’t access certain pages, at least from my current browser. Anyway, I’m chatting with tech support now, so I should go. I’d hate to be rude. But how to end this?

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how much outward appearances and things to change (whether or not your knees work, body odor, your clothes) don’t matter. My friend Justin told me recently that he never thinks of me as having changed. Not that I haven’t, but when you care about someone, it’s more about their insides than their outsides. And that’s what I’ve noticed these last two years since starting the blog and focusing more on my insides. Not that I don’t think about my outsides–it’s nice to get a compliment–but they’re simply not as important as they used to be. I know who I am.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If life can create a problem, it can also provide an answer.

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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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A break is no small thing to give yourself.

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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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You’re exactly where you need to be.

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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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No one dances completely alone.

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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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When we expect great things, we see great things.

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