This Sucks, I know (Blog #727)

Leave a comment

Recently my therapist recommended the book If You Meet the Buddha on the Road, Kill Him!–The Pilgrimage of Psychotherapy Patients by Sheldon B. Kopp. I started it last night and read more this afternoon and evening. And whereas I’m only about a third of the way through (55 pages), I adore it. Through the use of personal stories, metaphors, and myth, Kopp perfectly describes the journey of therapy, a journey he says often begins because a person is struggling or in pain and wants something more, something better. He relates this to the hero’s journey of all time. It’s fabulous. But beware, he says, “Everything good is costly, and the development of your personality is one of the most costly of all things. It will cost you your innocence, your illusions, your certainty.”

I know what you must be thinking–Where do I sign up?

That final sentence–it will cost you your innocence, your illusions, your certainty–was the last thing I read before falling asleep early this morning, and it’s been on my mind since I woke up. I think because it’s true. You go to therapy wanting someone else to take care of you, but you find out you have to take care of yourself. You go to therapy wanting to feel better, but also wanting your life and relationships to stay the same. (This isn’t possible.) You go to therapy wanting answers, but end up with more questions. Because nothing in life is for-sure.

This sucks, I know.

In terms of illusions, Kopp says that at some point patients (pilgrims, seekers) must give up the idea that they’re special. This is a tough one for me. Maybe for anyone in America, since we’re so focused on the individual and-the-aptly named social ME-dia is all about ME, ME, ME. But as a specific personal example, once when I was telling my therapist about a breakup, she said part of the problem I had in that relationship was that I thought I was special. That is, I saw that my ex lied to a number of people in his life, but I didn’t think he would lie TO ME. (He did.) Because I’m different somehow. Because no one else understood or cared for him like I did. Whatever. It was all bullshit. Liars lie to everyone. Even me. Even you.

This sucks, I know.

Another illusion Kopp says we must give up is the idea that we’re going to live forever. Said another way, we must accept the fact that we’re going to die. Because nothing here is permanent–not your age, not your beauty. He uses the therapy hour as a template for impermanence. Mine lasts fifty minutes, but the point is the same. For an agreed-upon amount of time, my therapist and I sit down and discuss what-the-hell-ever. Then the alarm goes off, and that’s pretty much it. Maybe we drag it out a little, but more often than not, I leave with items still on my list of things to talk about. Time’s up. We did the best we could. All good things must come to an end.

This used to really bother me, when my therapist and I weren’t able to talk about everything on my list. Now I know anything can wait. There will be other sessions. And even if they’re aren’t–because at some point our relationship will end–I know I have myself. That’s another point that Kopp makes, that ultimately we are our own teachers. Other people can help us, but nobody else can really DO anything FOR another person. That is, I can take your physical trash out to the curb, but I can’t take your mental trash out. I can show you how I cha-cha, but not how you should. Because they’re your feet, your hips, and they don’t move like mine. So each of us is responsible for himself/herself/themselves.

Pronouns are so confusing these days.

But back to not finishing things on the list and all things coming to an end. I could start crying right now if I thought I’d never see my therapist again. Not because I NEED her, but because she’s taught me that I don’t, that–honestly–I don’t need anybody. I don’t mean that to sound cold. I love you, and I enjoy our time together, just like I do with my therapist. But I know I’ll be OKAY if we never talk again because I have myself to come back to. That’s why I think I’ll cry after my last session with my therapist, whenever that is. Because I’m grateful for the work we’ve done together. I’ll be sad, sure, just like I’ll be sad when I write my last blog post. Yes, one day it will be time’s up for this project. One day it will be time’s up for EVERYTHING in life–our lovers, our health, our waistlines.

This sucks, I know.

This afternoon my dad and I took my aunt to see her dermatologist. As I read my book in the waiting room, Dad asked about the title. And whereas I haven’t gotten to that chapter in the book, I told him I think it means that if you think anyone else, including your therapist, is your savior (if you see the Buddha on the road), kill him. Said less violently, take him/her/them off the pedestal you’ve put them on. Because only you can save you. (The Buddha isn’t OUT THERE, he’s IN HERE.) Only you can take out your mental garbage, only you can clean up the relationships in your life, and only you can do anything about anything else that’s bothering you. This is YOUR life, and this is YOUR journey. So you have to take responsibility for it. You have to grow up.

This sucks, I know.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

We are all connected in a great mystery and made of the same strong stuff.

"

A Cedar Inside a Seed (Blog #726)

2 Comments

Today has been fabulous. This morning I woke up early to go to therapy. Because this last Sunday was five years since my first therapy appointment, I picked up cookies on the way. (My therapist likes cookies.) When I walked into my therapist’s office in a bow tie and suit jacket (and pants, of course, you pervert), she happened to be in the waiting room and commented that I looked fancy. Then she looked at her receptionist and said, “It’s our anniversary.”

She remembered.

Other than my dressing up and the cookies (with which I also had a cup of coffee), today’s session was like any other. Still, the entire time I had it in my head just how much my life has positively changed over the last five years. Even now, if I really stopped to think about the impact this one person has had on me, I’d start crying. It’s no small thing to be accepted, affirmed, believed in, and trusted. Indeed, I can say without hesitation–my therapist has, from the beginning, believed in me. More than I did. More than I do. This has been transformative. Thanks to her belief and support, I now believe in and trust myself more than I ever have.

I’ve mentioned before that scarcity is a big issue for me, and today my therapist referred to this issue as my “grand struggle.” She said we all have one. “Mine is different than yours,” she said, “but I can identify with yours.” This is why my coming to believe in myself is such a big deal. Because if you believe in scarcity–that there’s not enough money, not enough opportunity, and not enough sex (but really)–then, since you see the world through “not enough” glasses, you’ll believe you’re not enough either. You’ll have to. You’ll think, I need to learn more, I need to know more people, and I need to look different before I can be happy or successful because–I’m not enough. This, of course, is a lie. You’re either enough right here, right now, or you never will be. And that’s what I’m coming to believe, that there’s enough money, opportunity, and sex for me. That I’m enough exactly how I am.

That I have everything I need and always have.

Before I left therapy, my therapist told me that I’ve reaffirmed her belief that people can change for the better. This means the world to me. I say often that I’ve changed and that therapy has been great–better than great–for me, but since my progress has been stretched out over five years, it’s sometimes difficult to see even though I know it’s there. So it was nice to be reminded that I’m a different man than I was five years ago. Not that my fundamental me-ness has changed. My therapist told me in one of our very first sessions, “It’s my job to support you in reaching your highest potential.” Not my simply better, average, or good-enough potential. My highest potential. So she set the bar high. We set the bar high, because I agreed too–there’s a lot of possibility here, inside of me, and I’m willing to work to bring it out; I’m not willing to get to the end of my life and think, I was capable of more but settled for less. I let fear get the best of me.

Once when we were discussing a specific dream I have, my therapist said, “Do you think you can do this?” and I said, “Yes!” Then she said, “I believe you. You didn’t hesitate or waver before answering, so I know that’s your truth. And I think–I know–you can too.” Then I said, “It’s not that I don’t think I’m capable, it’s that I’m afraid. I’m afraid that my dreams won’t come true. So sometimes it’s easier to not dream than to dream and think it might not happen. The second thought hurts too much.”

Again, this thinking is a belief in scarcity, that God or the universe is capable of growing a tree, a mountain range, or a galaxy, but incapable of growing you and your dreams. Said another way, because all of life is progressive, it’s a belief that you are somehow the exception to the rule, that on a huge, whirling planet (with electricity, the internet, and peanut butter), everything is moving and evolving except stagnant little you. That stars, sunrises, and cedar trees are beautiful but you’re not. That there’s not enough growth and beauty here for all of us.

Over the years, I’ve had a thousand dance students in whom I saw some sort of potential and imagine I’ve told all of them, “You’re doing a good job. I see progress.” Unfortunately, many students have brushed these statements off. But I’ve thought what my therapist has told me before–I’ll believe in you until you can believe in yourself. I know on some level, they already do believe in themselves. Otherwise they wouldn’t be there, doing the work. Maybe they’re not firm in their belief yet, but a part of them is hoping. With both dance and therapy, I know this is enough, the hope that some part of your life can improve. Granted, like a cedar inside a seed, you start small. At times you feel small. Then one day you begin to feel it, your potential to be large, strong, and beautiful. At some point, perhaps thanks to someone who believes in you, you think, I belong here too. There’s more than enough everything to go around.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

It's the holes or the spaces in our lives that give us room to breathe and room to rest in, room to contain both good and bad days, and--when the time is right--room for something else to come along.

"

If You Slip on a Banana Peel (Blog #725)

Leave a comment

When I was a kid, in 1987, there was a commercial for HI-C, the juice box, that featured Harvey Korman and Tim Conway. I didn’t know it was them at the time, I just thought it was funny. I must have watched it a hundred times. In the commercial, Korman plays Mrs. Appleseed, the mother of Johnny Appleseed, who’s played by Conway (on his knees like his famous character Dorf), and is excited about the new HI-C juice box, which he claims is better than regular apple juice. Mrs. Appleseed, however, doesn’t agree, hitting her son over the head and knocking him backwards when he ask her to buy HI-C. But in characteristic Conway fashion, he pops right back up. Then, when threatened with another swat, he falls back down on his own.

After being sick all day yesterday with sinus issues, my body did that thing last night where it starts feeling better in the middle of the night and, consequently, won’t fall asleep. Today, I’ve been in the middle. I haven’t felt like a million bucks today, but I have felt–um–functional. Congested, but not miserable. Tired, but not wiped out. “Maybe you’re headed in the right direction,” my mom said. Here’s hoping. This has been so back-and-forth lately that I’m starting to feel like Tim Conway in the above commercial. Fearful of being swatted back down, I’m tempted to just stay on the floor.

And drink a juice box.

Despite my frustrations with my sinuses, today has been delightful. This afternoon I went to the gym with my dad and aunt and hit a personal milestone since having my knee surgery three months ago tomorrow–I ran two miles (on the treadmill). Oh my gosh, y’all, I broke a sweat and everything. Hopefully, it just gets better from here. After the gym, we went back to my aunt’s house and ate a late lunch/early dinner with my other aunt. We shot the shit. I drank a cup of coffee. Then my dad and I went to the gas station and Walmart. These memories, I realize, aren’t grand. However, knowing that time with our loved ones is always limited, I hold them fondly. More and more, in my book, it takes less and less to qualify as a good day.

Last night I watched the movie Analyze This. It’s a comedy about a mob boss (Robert DeNiro) who sees a therapist (Billy Crystal) for anxiety attacks. They’re keeping him from killing people. And getting an erection.

No, not at the same time.

There’s a scene in the movie where DeNiro says to Crystal, “No one can find out I’m seeing you. They’ll think I’m crazy.” Oh my gosh, unfortunately, this is true. My therapist says it’s “worse” with middle-aged and older people, but that society as a whole believes seeing a therapist is a sign of weakness. Like, I couldn’t do this on my own. But in my experience, seeing a therapist means that you’re strong. Because you’re willing to fight for yourself. Plus, we all need help, support, and skills from time to time, and god knows our culture does a piss-poor job of educating its members about emotions, boundaries, relationships, and trauma (which we all experience by virtue of being alive). Life doesn’t come with an instruction manual. In my opinion, there’s no shame in taking dance lessons because you don’t know how to dance, and there’s no shame in seeing a therapist because you don’t know how to navigate (insert your problem here).

One of the things I appreciate about the movie is that it makes light of topics that are really quite serious. For example, when DeNiro and his thugs keep barging in on Crystal’s private life (like Bob does with his therapist in What About Bob?), Crystal says, “Your boundaries are terrible.” In real life, people with bad boundaries cause us stress. In the movies, they make us laugh. Or, in the sentiment of a famous Mel Brooks quote, if I slip on a banana peel, that’s a tragedy; if YOU slip on a banana peel, that’s a comedy.

I’ve been thinking about this banana peel idea all day long. Call it human nature, but if someone else gets swatted down repeatedly by life, I can see the humor in it. If it happens to ME, well, that’s a different matter. But today I’ve been especially aware that, from the right twisted viewpoint, the life circumstances that I push so hard against are actually funny. Independent, thirty-eight-year-old lives with his parents. Colon-cleansing health-nut can’t get well to save his life. Personally, taking this comedic view makes my circumstances more bearable. Not that I hold this “isn’t it hilarious that I feel like ass?” viewpoint every minute of every day. My therapist says, “Tragedy plus time equals comedy.” That is, if you can’t see the humor in your challenges, maybe you just need more time. (Or maybe you don’t have a sense of humor.)

I hope it’s not the latter. A good sense of humor is a life-saver.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

You know when someone crosses a line. You may not want to admit it, but you know.

"

You Can Best Your Monsters (Blog #724)

Leave a comment

Five years ago today I had my first therapy session. Happy anniversary to me and my therapist (the people, not the blog)! Holy crap, y’all, I’ve come a long way and changed dramatically, both inside and outside. In the last five years I’ve confronted my demons and verbalized my deepest fears. I’ve learned to say no (to bad relationships), learned to say yes (to myself and healthy behaviors), and learned to speak my truth. And whereas it may sound like a silly thing to celebrate–the day I started seeing my shrink–I will forever be grateful for my therapist, her presence in my life, and what I’ve learned from her. Even if I were to never see her again, I know I’ve been forever transformed because of her. My life is on a better path.

So pass the cake.

Yesterday I blogged about feeling better and healing from my on-and-off sinus infection. I’d tried something different that seemed to the trick. Alas, I woke up in the middle of the night sick again, and I’ve felt weak and congested all day. It’s been back-and-forth like this for a while now, and it’s beginning to wear me out. I feel like I’m constantly having the rug pulled out from under my feet. Like my body and the universe are giving me health for a day then saying, “Nope. Just kidding. We take it back.” It makes me want to quit trying, to just give in and be sick every day, every damn day, to cry uncle.

Fortunately or unfortunately, I’m not built like that.

This afternoon I’ve been brainstorming “next steps” and things to try. In my experience, there are always more things to try. And whereas this is overwhelming–because how do you decide what to try next?–it leaves room for hope. Last year I had a sinus infection for three months and finally found something that knocked it out for a year, so surely I can find a solution this time. Not that this is fun to do when you’re sick, drag your ass all around town and the internet looking for answers. My resolve comes and goes.

Recently I came across the questions, “Could you accept your pain as part of your experience without wanting it to change in any way? Could you include it as part of all that is you?” I really like these questions. So often when I’m in pain or experiencing something unwanted, like a sinus infection, I push against it. My body tenses, my breathing shortens. It’s like how a kid closes their eyes believing whatever it is they don’t want to see will disappear if their face is clenched tight. Of course, this just adds more stress to your system and causes you to hyper-focus on the problem. So I’ve been trying today to not let my current struggle be the only thing I’ve thought about, to let it be part of my day, but not my day entirely.

I’ve been mildly successful.

This afternoon I re-read some old blog posts, and it’s the biggest trip, reading my inner thoughts and wonderings from the perspective of almost two years later. It’s like knowing how my own story’s going to end. For example, today I read about my being concerned over hospital bills and body odor and thought, Don’t worry, kid, it’ll all work out. Or at least if it doesn’t, you’re not going to die. Part of me knows that two years from now, I’ll look back at this current challenge and think the same thing. I made it. And yet another part frets.

A week from today will be my second blogiversary. If I can make it seven more posts (including tonight’s), I will have completed two full years of daily writing. Wow. Like meeting my therapist, this project has transformed my life for the better. A few times over the last two years, people have commented that I do quite a bit of complaining or bitching here. I know I talk about being sick a lot (because I’ve been sick a lot). But the premise of the blog is this–first, I spill my guts about something that’s bothering me, then I do my damnedest to work myself into a better place, to find hope. Sure, I wish I could just straight to the hope part; I wish I could be sunshine and rainbows every day, every damn day. But even after five years of therapy, I haven’t figured out how to never let anything get to me. (Maybe you have.) I have, however, figured out to take even the scariest monsters in my life and shine a light on them. I’ve figured out how to shrink them down to size.

When I think about being sick, it’s really the fear that gets me. Because it’s not a problem to be sick for a day or a month. Even a year, I suppose. But you think, What if this lasts forever? What if there is no answer? Talk about tensing up. That shuts you down. But since starting therapy and especially since starting this blog, I’ve come to believe that everything is workable and everything is faceable. Not that you’ll feel confident every moment of every day or always handle yourself with grace, but deep down a part of you will never waver, a part of you will know. You can do this. You’re just as big as anything that scares you. You can best your monsters.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

There’s no such thing as a small action. There’s no such thing as small progress.

"

On Being in Touch with Your Emotions (Blog #723)

Leave a comment

Yesterday I blogged that I was going to give myself the weekend to be sick, that I’d wait until Monday before trying to “mount a defense.” Or anything else given how little energy I had. (That was a sex joke, Mom.) That didn’t happen. After I posted the blog, I went to the website where I first heard about the probiotic (L. Sakei) that I’ve used half a dozen times to banish my sinus infections. There I read that if the probiotic previously worked for you but hasn’t lately, it can be because your body has acclimated to it. Switch it up, the site said. If you’ve been using the powder, try kimchi (fermented cabbage), or vice versa. Or take a regular probiotic capsule, break it open in you mouth, and swish the contents around.

In short, do what you gotta do to get your sinus flora back on track.

About midnight, hopeful, I went to Walmart. There I picked up the cheapest probiotic I could find ($10 for 8 strains and 14 billion active cultures) and a jar of kimchi ($6). On my way to the cash register I decided, Even if this doesn’t work, I’ll go shopping for another product tomorrow. If I have to drop a hundred bucks to find something that works, it’ll be better than being completely wiped out and congested. Back at the house, I started with the probiotic–broke it open, swished it around in my mouth. (Apparently the critters can crawl into your sinuses from your throat, but there’s no evidence they can make it up there from your stomach.) Then I poured some kimchi juice into a small glass, dipped my pinky into it, and swabbed my nostrils; then I gargled and swallowed what was left.

Fingers crossed, I thought.

An hour later, while lying in bed watching old episodes of Soap, I thought, I think I feel better. Still, I wasn’t sure. After all, wishful thinking is a real thing. But two hours later when I was wide awake and couldn’t sleep to save my life, I was certain I had more energy. Yes, I was coming back online. Two hours after that, at five in the morning, my congestion cleared. About six, I finally fell asleep. Thankfully, I’ve felt better all day. My nose has been a little snotty, but I’ve had more energy and haven’t hacked up anything disgusting. This morning I reapplied last night’s treatment and will do so again shortly. Here’s hoping it continues to do the trick.

I know I’ve been talking about this a lot lately and am beginning to sound like The Boy Who Cried My Sinuses Are Healed. Over the last three weeks, I’ve woken up sick/woken up better so many times it’s not even funny. The way I see it, my sinuses are simply having a hard time finding their balance. Still, I’m grateful they’re trying. I’m also grateful there are websites like the ones I mentioned earlier, that people like me have shared their experiences of what works and what doesn’t. Plus, I’m getting to see what a wonder the body is. For years I took antibiotics for sinus infections, and–at best–I’d see improvement in two days. One if I took steroids also. But last night I felt a dramatic shift in only five hours.

Color me amazed!

Of course, I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. But–

No one ever knows what’s going to happen tomorrow.

Today I heard Steve Martin quote Herbert Ross as saying, “Anger has a thousand faces.” For context, Martin was talking about acting, about how some actors–unfortunately–do what’s called “indicating,” which would be, say, smiling like a damn fool to let the audience know your character is happy or shouting (OR TYPING IN ALL CAPITAL LETTERS) to let them know you’re angry. But obviously, these aren’t the only faces these emotions have. We’ve all seen talented actors, or even friends and family, be terse, frustrated, sarcastic, quiet, or overly nice, and thought, Oh shit, they’re about to blow their top. In Martin’s words, “Emotions come out so convoluted.”

I’ve been chewing on this statement all day. Emotions come out so convoluted. First, is that true or what? Second, I think it’s funny that we can quickly and accurately pick up on the subtle emotions of actors and other people, but that we’re often oblivious to what’s going on within ourselves. For example, for years I told myself that I wasn’t bothered by other people’s poor or rude behavior and that I didn’t mind bending over backwards to help people who were (from my current viewpoint) obviously taking advantage of me. But since starting therapy five years ago, I’ve gotten very clear about the fact that, indeed, I was bothered. More specifically, and quite rightly, I was angry–PISSED OFF!–about a number of relationships and situations in my life.

“Better to be pissed off than pissed on,” my dad always says.

When you stand in your truth, you’re often standing alone.

Thankfully, I’ve made a lot of headway in recognizing and doing something about my emotions. Because that’s the deal, that’s why we cover them up–once you recognize them, you’ve got to do something about them. And that means setting boundaries, and THAT means changing relationships. And that’s not always fun. Which is why, I think, we shove down and shut off our emotions. Because we don’t really want to feel and respond to them. We don’t want to deal with the fall out. The fall out of standing in your truth. Because when you stand in your truth, you’re often standing alone. And nobody wants to be alone. So we put up with more crap than we have to.

I’ve said before that one of the “benefits” to being sick with sinus infections is that it’s given me an opportunity to feel frustrated and vulnerable. And not that I think I get sinus infections strictly because I’ve shoved those feelings down for twenty years, but I think that plays a part. I think sinus infections could be “a face” of my emotions. But lately I’ve been working on welcoming all my emotions, on really feeling them so they don’t have to come out all convoluted. Sinus infections aside, I don’t like my anger coming out as passive aggressiveness or upset stomachs. At least primarily. I’d rather have it come out as an honest conversation. I have a problem. This isn’t working for me anymore. Fuck off, Alice.

Your emotions are your truth.

Recently someone offered me a job opportunity–for experience, not money. And whereas part of me knew I didn’t want to do it (because I’m worth what I charge), another part of me felt beholden to the person who was offering. But after discussing the situation with my therapist, it became clear that my first loyalty is always to my inner self, not someone else’s outer self. This has been one of the biggest benefits of going to therapy–it’s helped me get clear about what I want and don’t want. It’s put me back in touch with my truth. Not that I didn’t have my truth before, I just wasn’t in touch with it. You CAN’T be in touch with your truth when you’re not in touch with your emotions; your emotions ARE your truth.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

Go easier on yourself.

"

Despite the Plague (Blog #722)

Leave a comment

Last night, before my dad and I went to the gym, I wrote about how my friend Marla said I was “very loyal” to this blog and how the worst thing a person could do would be tie me up in a room and keep me from posting for a day. I said, “NOOOOOO.” Then, for the first time since starting this blog almost two years ago, I forgot to hit “publish.” Ironic, I know. This morning Marla wrote and said, “I can’t find yesterday’s blog. Did someone kidnap you?” Thankfully, I told her, no. And I did write. I just spaced out and forgot to share it.

But I did share it this morning, and here it is.

For the last three weeks, I’ve had an off-and-on sinus infection. A couple days ago, I felt like a million bucks and was sure I had it beat. But then this morning I woke up full-blown sick with all the mucus. (And I didn’t even eat dairy yesterday.) Despite all my tricks and potions, I’ve continued to feel sick all day–tired, gross, disgusting. Additionally, my head hurts. It’s like the skin around my skull has shrunk, is shrinking. I’m doing my best not to whine here. These are just the facts.

Excuse me while I hack up a lung.

Despite The Plague, it’s been a pleasant day. Like, no one has died (that I know of). Actually, this morning my mom got some good news about her heart. A recent echocardiogram showed a potential problem, but today she found out it was “moderate” and not “severe.” As I understand it, this means medication and not surgery. So that’s good. Then this afternoon I did some writing research, which was fun, and my family and I went out to Western Sizzlin’ (giddy up), which was tasty. Then I took a nap and watched several episodes of Soap, an old sitcom I’ve been into lately that starred Katherine Helmond and Billy Crystal. Crystal’s role, Jodie Dallas, was television’s first openly gay character. Anyway, I laughed out loud tonight when one of the characters, Burt, a real ham, stuck his hand directly in a chocolate cake because he thought there might be a bomb in it. Perhaps you would have had to have been there. But my point is–you can be sick without being miserable.

Not that this is an easy thing to do. All day, when I haven’t been distracted, I’ve been worried that this sinus infection will never go away. That all the things I’ve been doing have just pissed it off and that it will never get better. Today my aunt said, “Have you tried a neti pot?” Oh my god, have I tried a neti pot! A thousand times I’ve tried a neti pot. This is the deal when I’m sick. It feels like I’ve TRIED EVERYTHING and that NOTHING WORKS. Of course, I know this isn’t true. After all, this is a big world with lots of solutions, and I’ve stumbled across some wonders before. So we’ll see what happens. My current plan is to give myself the weekend to be sick and gross. If I don’t improve, I can come up with a plan next week. I’m telling myself–

You don’t have to mount a defense this very instant.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

As the ocean of life changes, we must too.

"

On One’s Value and Worth (Blog #721)

2 Comments

Tonight’s blog needs to be super fast. I spent this afternoon and evening at a friend’s house surfing the web (cowabunga, dude), then went to the library to get a book my therapist recently recommended, then went to the mall to buy a thank-you card. The day got away from me. Now it’s almost ten, and Dad and I need to go work out (it’s our thing now) earlier than normal because he’s got to get up early in the morning for an appointment.

The book my therapist recommended has to do with “knowing your worth,” which she says is my biggest hangup. That is, according to her, I don’t fully recognize my talents and abilities, and, therefore, my value. So we’ll see what the book says. My therapist says it’s technically written for and directed toward females but that I can just change the pronouns. Sounds easy enough; that’s pretty popular these days. Plus, it won’t be the first time I’ve been called “her.” (Gay men often refer to each other in the feminine, Mom.) All this being said, I do think I’ve made progress in this area. Recently someone, upon hearing what I charge for a private dance lesson, immediately tried to get me to drop my rate. They said, “I know you’re worth it, but,” then proceeded to talk about what they are accustomed to paying for a dance lesson (less than what I charge). I told them I was open to thinking about it, but that my gut agreed with them–I’m worth my rate (no but).

When I told my therapist about this situation, she said the universe was testing me. Like, Am I going to believe in my value, or am I going to keep selling myself short, like I have for years? Apparently this is the deal whenever you desire something better for your life–before you can have it, the universe needs to find out how serious you are about wanting it. Because there will always be people who want you to settle for less. Few people in life are going to say, “Here, take more of my money; you’re worth it.” So that’s our job, to determine our value, to decide what we’re worth in terms of our jobs and relationships, to set our boundaries and stick to them.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

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.

"

On Ups and Downs (Blog #720)

Leave a comment

This morning I had coffee with my friend Marla, and she mentioned that I’ve been “very loyal” to this blog. “For sure, I’m committed,” I said. Then Marla said, “If someone wanted to torture you, they could lock you in a room for a day so you couldn’t write.”

NOOOOOOOO.

Later when Marla asked what I was doing this afternoon and I said, “Not a damn thing,” she said, “I can’t imagine that.” I said, “I’ve had a lot of practice.” I guess Marla’s a go-go-goer like I was for most of my life. Of course, things have been, um, more laid-back these last two years. My calendar is full of empty days, days without a schedule. Sometimes I tell people I’m preparing for retirement. And whereas not having a million things to do occasionally bothers me, I think I’ve finally learned to enjoy my freedom.

You can get used to anything.

Lately, thanks to a meditation practice I recently started, I’ve noticed how much tension I carry in my body and soul on a moment-to-moment basis. I’ve said before that I’m often nervous or anxious, anything but calm and relaxed. My physical body mirrors this. My shoulders are usually tight or raised. It’s like part of me is always on alert, ready for a fight. Perhaps defensive would be a good way to describe how I frequently feel. A lot of times I fantasize about telling people off or “having my day in court.” I’m assuming people who have resolved their inner and outer tensions don’t do this. (I could be wrong.) My point is that when you live this way for years and years (decades), you don’t think of it as abnormal because–for you–it’s the way life is. But I’m learning that just as you can get used to tension, you can get used to whatever the opposite of tension is.

After having an abundantly good day and feeling like a million bucks (or at least a hundred thousand bucks) yesterday, I’ve felt sick again today. Not awful, but not great either. The Mucus came back. And whereas I’m really getting tired of this roller coaster of a sinus infection (up one day, down the next), I’m glad my body hasn’t completely given in (down every day). Plus, I had the thought that life is often like the movie Groundhog Day. That is, perhaps when we live the same day or circumstance over and over again, it’s because we still have something to learn from it. For example, two of the days in the last week that I’ve woken up with a head full of mucus, I’d had ice cream the night before. Maybe this is something I need to take note of.

Eat ice cream in the morning.

But seriously, there’s always something more to learn. And yes, I hate that. I really wish I could check “healthy sinuses” off my to-do list. But we all have those things in our lives that continue to stretch us, to teach us patience, kindness, or compassion. Or simply how to accept this present moment, which without question is different than the one before. This is something I’ve been learning as I’ve been meditating on tension and paying particular attention to my physical aches and pains–nothing is constant. Even pain isn’t constant. Yes, I know that for some people it doesn’t go away, but it still shifts. One minute it’s hot and throbbing, the next minute it’s cold and stiff. Pain, like everything else in life, is a roller coaster.

The truth is everything in life is impermanent. Don’t like what you’re going through? It’ll change. LIKE what you’re going through? It’ll change. As loyal as I’ve been to the this blog, there will come a day when it will end. There will come a day when my sinus infections will end, even if it’s when I do. Because I will end, just as you will. Not to be morbid, but it’s the truth. Everything that has a beginning, has an ending. This includes creative projects, health problems, human beings, and even universes. Perhaps the best we can do while we are here is to enjoy this ride–with its inevitable ups and downs, delights and terrors, and moments of tension and release.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

There’s a lot of magic around you.

"

An Abundantly Good Day (Blog #719)

Leave a comment

I know I keep going back and forth on this topic, but after a week of sinus infection ups and downs, I woke up dramatically better this morning. Actually, as it they are wont to do, my sinuses improved in the middle of the night. That is, I received a sudden jolt of energy just as I was going to bed, so I lay wide-awake for three hours, just twiddling my thumbs. Later when I told my dad about this he said, “You could have gotten up and cleaned the house.”

“Well, I might have woken you up,” I said.

“Oh, don’t ever worry about that,” he replied.

I think I finally fell asleep about four, which means I got about four hours of sleep, since my alarm went off at eight. And whereas I’d normally be ever-not-so happy about my lack of rest, it hasn’t bothered me today because my health has been so much better than it was yesterday. Seriously, I still can’t get over how quickly the body can turn something around when it either has a mind to or gets the right support (or both). I’ve been in the best mood all day. Even my other health concerns (which, on the grand scale of things, aren’t that concerning) haven’t brought me down today. I have too much hope that they too will–one day–disappear.

Our imperfections make us relatable.

Today really has been the best day. This morning I saw my therapist, and she’s always encouraging (it’s kind of her gig) and makes me laugh. Why somebody wouldn’t want this type of relationship, I’ll never know. Talk about a shot in the arm. Later this week marks five years since my first appointment with my therapist, and I’m eternally grateful for the path my life has taken since that fateful day. Anyway, to “celebrate,” I read my therapist a post I wrote last year called “Why Me and My Therapist Are Successful,” in which I talked about–in part–the fact that my therapist is a normal damn human being like anyone else. My therapist said this was important, for me (or any client) to recognize that she’s a flawed person. “But that doesn’t mean healing can’t happen,” she said. “In fact, it means I can better understand and help someone else–because I’ve been there.” This is huge, that you don’t have to be perfect in order to be effective. Indeed, our imperfections make us relatable.

One of the things I mentioned in that previous post is that–I think–my therapist and I are a good match. Again, my therapist said this was important. “I’m not everyone’s cup of tea,” she said. “I offend a lot of people.” (This next part is simply for your consideration.) Then she said, “Well, I don’t really offend them; they offend themselves. They choose to be offended.”

Before she’s said, “People choose their reactions.”

One of the big topics my therapist and I have circled back to over and over these last five years is abundance. Or, if you want to look at the other side of the coin, scarcity. That’s my problem, apparently, is that I often want to (or have a least had a lot of practice at) looking at the scarcity side of the coin. That is, I’m plagued with feelings of I’m not enough, my knowledge and abilities aren’t enough, there’s not enough money, and the world’s not enough (to support me). Well, today my therapist said this was IRONIC, one of the universe’s little ha-ha’s, since I actually have an ABUNDANCE of talent, even if I don’t always recognize it. It reminded me of that story of the guy who searched the world over for riches and eventually discovered one of the world’s largest diamond mines on his own property. Like, Whoops, I forgot to look right here. So I’m going to keep working at recognizing those places in my life where good is overflowing this very moment.

The last two things I’m sharing from today’s therapy session are just for fun. First, at one point my therapist referred to someone as “gayer than a Judy Garland matinée.” I almost fell out of my chair. Then later when she mentioned a(n apparently fabulous) song called Carry On by Martha Wash and I said I hadn’t heard of it, she said, “If you’re not careful, you’re going to get your homosexual card revoked.” Then she paused and added, “But don’t worry; I won’t report you to the gay mafia.” Is that hilarious or what? A Judy Garland matinée. The gay mafia.

The rest of the day has been just as delightful. This afternoon I had physical therapy, and I continue to be (abundantly) taken care of and see (abundant) progress. Then I spent this evening with my friends Bonnie and Todd, and we ate (an abundance of) ice cream. But we also walked a(n abundantly) long distance to get it, so I figure it all evened out. (Balance is important.) Now it’s eleven at night, and I’m ready to call it a(n abundantly good) day.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

Rejecting yourself is what really hurts.

"

Deflated, but Not Defeated (Blog #718)

Leave a comment

Ick. Gross. This morning I woke up full of snot. Boo. Hiss. I guess the sinus infection I’ve been battling for the last week has come charging back. (I really thought I had it licked.) Down with this sort of thing. I don’t have any energy. Shit.

If it’s not obvious, I’m frustrated. I hate sinus infections (I’ve had a lot of them). But more than being frustrated, I’m fearful. That is, since I had a sinus infection that lasted for three months last year, I’m afraid this one will turn into something like that, something that will go on and on and never go away no matter what I try (I’ve tried a million things). Granted, the probiotic I’ve been using off-and-on this week has helped more than anything else (both historically and lately), so maybe I just need to be more consistent, stick with it for several days (the site that told me about it says to stop when you feel better). Only time will tell.

Because of my body’s current condition, I tried to take it easy today. I took a nap, read a book. It’s eight in the evening now, and I’m blogging so that I can pass out whenever my body’s ready. Normally I’d force myself to stay awake and write or go to the gym, which I still can’t decide if I feel like doing today or not. Every so often I get a slight surge in energy and think, Sure, I could run a mile. (Just one mile.) Then my energy dips and I think, Screw that, I’m not leaving this couch.

Let’s get right to the deep stuff. Normally when I don’t feel well, part of me goes into attack mode. That is, I treat my illness like an enemy. My muscles tense up. I spend hours on the internet trying to figure out how to heal. And whereas I have found some helpful hints over the years, this is exhausting. As if being sick weren’t bad enough, and then I push-push-push. So today I’ve tried a different approach–acceptance. Not that I’m not taking my probiotic and all-the-vitamins–I am–but several times today I’ve made a point to lie still, breathe deeply, and BE SICK, to feel worn out, tired, deflated, frustrated, vulnerable, and afraid. And although nothing miraculous has happened, it has been healing (on the inside) to recognize the fact that there are a lot of emotions here, to not–for once–ask myself to feel any differently than I do.

The other deep thing today is that I’ve realized my body is trying. My body is doing the best it can. I’m sure I’ve said this before and didn’t really mean it. Or maybe I just didn’t mean it as much as I do now. The point is, I was thinking about how I’ve woken up a number of days this week full of the crud, but have woken up just as many days this week refreshed and feeling quite fine, dramatically better than I was the night before. This tells me something is going on. I picture it as a war–the good bacteria versus the bad bacteria–with each side winning its occasional battle. (Obviously I’m pulling for the good guys.) Regardless, that’s what I get from this one-day-better/one-day-worse pattern. My body clearly hasn’t given up. It’s trying.

For me, these two things–acceptance of what is and the acknowledgment that my body is trying–are enough to keep me from throwing in the proverbial towel. In other words, I still have hope. Yes, I feel deflated, but not defeated.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

Our burdens are lighter when we share them.

"