On Being Irritated (Blog #687)

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Last night I dreamed I was being bitten by mosquitoes. I hate mosquitoes. When I woke up, my first thought was that the dream had to do with being irritated. Mosquitoes, after all, are SOOO annoying.

This morning I had my third and final appointment with my dermatologist this week. On Monday I got patch tested for skin allergies by being exposed to 74 “common household ingredients.” On Wednesday I found out that I’m immediately allergic to four things, the worst of which is mercury, the most common of which is peppermint. Today I found out that I had “delayed reactions” to two OTHER things–cinnamic aldehyde (cinnamon) and neomycin sulfate (as in Neosporin). Geez. What the hell–delayed reactions? I guess that’s my skin’s way of saying what I’ve said to many an ex-boyfriend–“Initially I thought we’d get along, but now that I’ve had some time to think it over, I can’t see things working out between us.”

Or as Simon Cowell would say, “It’s a no for me.”

Believe it or not, when I got the news about my skin being allergic to a total of six different things, I didn’t freak out. Granted, cinnamon and peppermint are in every mouthwash, toothpaste, and dental floss out there, but whatever, I don’t need to take care of my teeth. After going through a battery of immune system tests last year and being told repeatedly that nothing was wrong, it was actually good to be given an explanation for at least one of my problems–contact dermatitis. And whereas the worst of it (a rash) is already under control, perhaps now we can get the least of it (itchy skin) under control. My dermatologist said, “I know it seems daunting, but all you have to do is avoid these ingredients.”

Encouraged by this pep talk and the ida that I could see results in as little as a month (because that’s how long it takes skin cells to regenerate), I went to the natural food store this afternoon to buy new personal products, since all of mine are on my no-no list. “Just think,” my dermatologist said, “you can go on a shopping spree.” (Like I needed an excuse.) Anyway, armed with a phone app that reads barcodes and compares product ingredients against my allergens, I started checking products. Y’all, I scanned at least two dozen toothpastes, shampoos, conditioners, body lotions, and shaving creams, and–no shit–every one one came back either as “not in our database” or “not safe for you.” (I kept thinking, No soup for you!) And whereas this normally would have sent me over the edge, today, for whatever reason, it made me laugh.

Perhaps this was a grace.

At this point, I don’t know what I’m going to do. Honestly, I think I could keep using the products I’ve been using and survive, since my reactions have been slow and delayed. However, I would like to listen to my body, clean things up, and give my skin a fresh start, so I’ll probably end up ordering some products the app recommends online. And whereas it’s frustrating that my choices are limited (because apparently my no-no ingredients are in EVERYTHING), at least it makes the selection process simpler. Plus, I was only using ONE shampoo, ONE conditioner before, so it’s not like a need a hundred options anyway.

This evening I’ve been telling myself that this isn’t a huge deal. I don’t have a major disease; I have irritated skin. Chances are that’s what my mosquito dream was about last night–the fact that my skin is even more worked up than normal because I haven’t had an antihistamine in a week (because of the testing). But it’s not lost on me that I’m generally irritated and worked up about something. They say that’s common with people who’ve been through  significant trauma–you can’t really calm down because you’re always holding your breath, waiting for the other show to drop. So I want to continue to work on that part of it, to do whatever I can to exhale.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Your emotions are tired of being ignored.

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On Looking Back (Blog #686)

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It’s Valentine’s Day. No offense to anyone in a relationship, but–balloons, chocolates, and candy–ick. Clearly I’m not in a relationship. And whereas most days I’m okay with that, I admit it–today it’d be nice to have someone to take a selfie with so we could post it on social media and make all the single people out there jealous. Now, what I’d do with this person the other 364 days of the year, I don’t know. Anyway, in order to NOT be jealous of all the lovely couples out there posting pictures, I’ve tried to stay off the internet today. I say tried–I’ve only been mildly successful.

This afternoon I started worrying about finances. That’s a great thing to do on a day when you already don’t feel great. Then I started getting a headache and maybe a fever blister, so I took a nap. Sometimes this is my best strategy when I can’t find a good-feeling thought. Unfortunately, the nap didn’t last long, and I woke up still overwhelmed. But then a friend who’s a great listener and always makes me laugh called, and we solved the world’s problems for almost an hour. Now I don’t feel fabulous, but I don’t feel awful either, which I consider an improvement.

I guess there’s something about getting your worries and concerns out–saying them to a friend, writing them down on paper (or the internet) that makes them feel more manageable. I guess it gives you room to breathe. That’s something I’ve been trying to do lately–breathe. (I’ve also been trying to stay off the internet today). I feel like my body is asking me to breathe, to slow down, in a dozen different ways, and I really am trying to give myself a break. And yet there’s all this stress. Wayne Dyer says you could search the world over and never find enough stress to fill up a bucket. That is, it’s all in your head. I would add, however, it’s also in your body. When I get worked up, I get a headache, maybe a fever blister. I break out in hives.

Put me in a bucket, Wayne.

Yesterday I told myself that I was going to take myself to a movie this afternoon. Since Valentine’s is the day of love, I reasoned, I might as well spend it with someone I care about. Alas, this plan didn’t happen. Instead, I went to the grocery store, where I bought a basketful of fruits and vegetables because I’m trying to add juices to my diet. I say trying because when I got home and made my first juice (spinach, celery, pineapple, and ginger), I discovered our blender is officially a wimp. Seriously, what’s the point of having blades and a motor if you’re no match for a stalk of celery? But whatever, I made it work. And you should have seen me drinking that green stuff. I felt so freakin’ healthy.

Then I had tacos for dinner.

Earlier when I was talking to my friend, I brought up a few bad days from my past–the day my dad went to prison, for example. I said, “Compared to that day, today was a breeze.” And not that I think a day has to be the worst day ever in order to be recognized as difficult. I really hate when you’re struggling and someone says, “It could be worse” or “There are starving children in India.” Granted, it could be worse–things can always be worse–and that doesn’t mean you’re not struggling right here, right now. Still, I do think it’s important to remember that things HAVE BEEN worse–not because pain is a contest–but because looking back can remind you what you’ve come through. It can remind you how strong and capable you are. It can remind you that even the worst situations can come to an end. In short, it can remind you to–

hope.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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So perhaps perfection has little to do with that which changes and everything to do with that which doesn't. For surely there is a still, small something inside each of us that never changes, something that is timeless and untouchable, something inherently valuable and lovable--something perfect.

"

On Enjoyment and Being Worthy (Blog #685)

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Today started off well. I had errands to run, so I got up early. I had a lovely breakfast. When I left the house, the sun was shining. (I love the sun.) Then I had some time to kill, so I finished (finished!) yesterday’s paperwork. Then I went to a coffee shop and read a book for a couple hours. (I love reading.) For whatever reason, I delighted in all of this. Lately the idea of enjoyment has been on my mind, and I’ve been trying to soak more of it out of my everyday routine.

I’ll explain.

Most of the time, I’m going, going, going, always thinking about what’s next. For example, sometimes when I eat breakfast and finish everything on my plate, I get up to put my dish and utensils away before I’m done drinking my tea or coffee. I have this inner mantra that constantly sounds like, What else can I DO? Of course, this is a good way to be hyper productive. America loves that. However, it’s a terrible way to relax, since this thinking necessarily leads to never being able to slow down. Another consequence of this mentality is that it always feels like life is something to be enjoyed LATER. I end up thinking, I’ll be happy WHEN (when I put the dishes away, when I’m healthier, when I have more money, when I’m in a relationship).

Frustrated with my own logic, today I tried something different. At breakfast, I forced myself to leave my dirty dishes on the table until I finished my hot tea. Sipping it slowly, I thought, I like tea. Then instead of pacing throughout the house while brushing my teeth with my electric toothbrush, I stood still, closed my eyes, and thought, This is kind of fun; it tickles my tonsils. This continued into the afternoon. Not that I was stupid happy over everything, but I purposefully took time to enjoy the things I normally take for granted or rush through in order to finish–feeling the sun on my skin, listening to Come On, Eileen on my stereo, reading my book. It was fabulous.

Then something happened.

This afternoon I went back to my dermatologist to get the results of my skin patch test. Two days ago they plastered 74 “common household ingredients” to my back to see if my skin would react to them, and today was the moment of truth. (I’ll try to keep this brief.) The good news is that I had ZERO reactions rated as 3, the worst. I did, however, have one reaction rated as 2 (to Thimerosal) and three reactions rated as 1 (to iodopropynyl butylcarbamate, dimethylaminopropylamine, and peppermint oil). And whereas I’ve been all worked up about finding out my skin allergies, I actually took it pretty well. I thought, That’s not so bad. Then my dermatologist said it was so bad. Actually, she said, “It’s sort of a lot.” But then she said, “But not for someone who has rashes [I assumed she was talking about me]. This morning I had a lady who was allergic to 18 things [18!].”

Here’s a picture of my back when they removed the patches. The red spots are difficult to see. I go back in two days to see if I’ve had any delayed reactions. “But wait, there’s more.”

My dermatologist set me up with a supposed-to-be-handy-dandy phone app that keeps track of my allergies and tells me whether or not a particular product (shampoo, washing detergent, deodorant) has one of my no-no ingredients in it. However, when I came home and started scanning barcodes, I discovered that a lot of what I use isn’t currently in the app’s database. Oh well, I thought, I’ll read the ingredients myself. But that ended up being a bitch because some products don’t list their ingredients, and the no-no ingredients often go by, oh, three dozen other names. (Shit.) And another frustrating thing–when the app does identify a problem product (like my mouthwash, for example), it doesn’t say why it’s a problem. That is, it doesn’t say whether or not the issue is one of my four allergens, an allergen that’s similar that goes by a different name, or what. Consequently, I now have a bathroom counter full of products I may or may not be able to use without my skin freaking out.

If you see anything you want, come and get it.

Overwhelmed by all this information, I took a nap earlier. Having rested, I feel better. For one thing, I’ve only had ONE major skin rash this last year. And whereas it was awful, it got better when I changed my laundry detergent. For another, my allergies are three out of four mild, and the one that is moderate (Thimerosal, otherwise known as mercury) isn’t used in many things (other than vaccines, thermometers, and some antifungals and cosmetics). Granted, the mild allergens are used in many things, but we live in a world where there are tons of alternative natural options, and surely I can only benefit from finding out what they are and using them.

As I said yesterday, I can do hard things.

Another thing that’s been on my mind today is the word worthy. I prefer the word worthy over the word deserve. That is, I don’t think as humans we really DESERVE anything–good health, money, praise and adoration, a loving relationship. But I do believe we are all WORTHY of these things. Anyway, the word worthy came up while I was thinking about enjoyment, my thought being that we are all WORTHY to enjoy anything we want–a cup of hot tea, the sun on our skin, a good book–even if everything else in our life isn’t perfect. For me, that means that I can enjoy my book even if my shoulder hurts while I’m reading it. It means I can enjoy my dermatologist (love her) even if I don’t like the news she delivers. It means I can enjoy my dinner (I just ate a burger patty and a sweet potato) even if I don’t know what shampoo I’ll be using tomorrow.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Give yourself an abundance of grace.

"

I Can Do Hard Things (Blog #684)

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What to talk about?

After we discovered multiple leaks under our kitchen sink a couple days ago, yesterday my dad called a plumber, who came by late last night. Then he, or rather someone else he called, came by this morning and fixed everything. And not that it’s about me, but the plumber said my efforts to patch a particular copper pipe with putty (say that five times fast) could have worked had the line been drained and completely dry. “They claim that stuff works on a wet surface, but it doesn’t,” he said.

So much for truth in advertising!

It’s probably good my efforts didn’t work, since there were also two other leaks, one of which I knew about and one of which I didn’t. Anyway, all three leaks have been taken care of, and it didn’t break the bank. Phew. Now all that’s left to do is replace one piece of rotten wood underneath the sink and reattach a couple other pieces of wood under the cabinets. Perfect project for a rainy day.

And god knows there’s plenty of those in the forecast.

Several months ago I worked backstage for the national tour of The Wizard of Oz. And whereas it was exhausting, I absolutely loved it. Not only did I learn a lot and have a ton of fun, I met some darling people, several of whom I’m still in touch with. Anyway, let’s talk about magnets. While I was working backstage I wanted to buy a show magnet as a souvenir, since I have a show magnet collection, and I try to add to it whenever I see a Broadway play or musical. (Some shows don’t sell magnets. Harrumph. I’m talking at you, Cabaret.) Unfortunately, The Wizard of Oz didn’t have magnets to sell, since they were on backorder.

I wish I could tell you I didn’t lose sleep over this.

Okay, fast forward to recently, when I asked one of my friends who works backstage for the tour (Kelsey) if she would send me a magnet. “You bet,” she said. Well, I went to the mailbox today, and there it was! Plus, Kelsey surprised me with a Wizard of Oz Tour ball cap. Y’all, I can’t tell you how excited I was (and am) about this. The last few days I’ve been discouraged by life in general (too many rainy days), but this kind gesture picked me right up. Not only do I love, love, love getting to add to my magnet collection (which, other than books is my only collection), the magnet and hat have sent me over the moon because of my personal connection to the show. All day I’ve been thinking, Life ain’t so bad!

Thanks again, Kelsey!

I spent this afternoon at the library doing paperwork. I can’t tell you how badly I didn’t want to and how much I futzed around trying to put it off. But then I finally sat down and got started. Do one thing at a time, I told myself. Three hours later, I was 90 percent done. Now my goal is to do the rest tomorrow. Having come this far, the last 10 percent doesn’t scare me. Plus, as my friend Bonnie is constantly reminding me, I can do hard things. At this point, I’m actually looking forward to checking “paperwork” off my to-do list.

I’ve touched on this a number of times lately, but it occurs to me again that just getting started is a HUGE thing. This last weekend I was all worked up about a writing project, then Monday I was all worked up about getting patch tested at the dermatologist’s office, then today I was all worked up about the paperwork. But now the writing project is done, and the patch testing and the paperwork will be done tomorrow. I don’t know, as I was working today, I reviewed my calendar and was reminded that last year I took several big trips, helped some friends pack their two houses so they could move to Colorado, and successfully came through knee surgery. So what’s a little paperwork? I just think this is important to keep in mind, since we all have tasks we’re afraid of tackling. But again, it’s simply a matter of getting started, doing one thing at a time, and remembering, I can do hard things.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It's enough to sit in, and sometimes drag ass through, the mystery.

"

Take a Year If You Need It (Blog #683)

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I didn’t sleep well last night. I guess I was worked up/ worried about the leaks under our kitchen sink and a few things I’m not looking forward to this week including Valentine’s Day (because I’m single AF). Much to my chagrin, I discovered when I got up this morning that my efforts to stop one of the leaks didn’t work. Boo hiss. Anyway, my dad called a plumber, so now we’re waiting. And whereas I wish I could have handled the problem myself, sometimes you simply need reinforcements.

I’m talking to you, people who learn to dance on YouTube.

This afternoon I went to my dermatologist’s office for the first of three visits this week because I’m being patch tested to see what “common household ingredients” my skin reacts to. My dermatologist suggested the test when she found out I had some issues last year that were most likely connected to a laundry detergent I was using at the time. Anyway, the testing process consists of having 74 different potential irritants exposed to your back and–later–seeing how your skin responds. That is, I go back in two days to see if I’ve had an immediate reaction, then again two days after that to see if I’ve had a delayed reaction.

My whole life feels like a delayed reaction.

Last summer I was tested for allergies via a test in which my skin was actually scratched three dozen times or so. Thankfully, I didn’t get scratched today; the potential irritants were adhered to me. Below is a picture of what my back looked like right after the patches were stuck on. Tonight’s main photo was taken after this one, and it shows what my back looks like now–covered in tape to keep everything secure. The nurse told me, “No antihistamines, no showers [a bath is okay if my upper back stays dry], and no excessive sweating.”

“But a moderate amount of sweating is okay?” I asked, thinking, I don’t control my sweat glands, lady.

Eight hours after having the patches stuck on, I feel fine. A few times today I’ve felt a little itchy in a spot or two, but not all over. Of course, I’m paranoid that my skin is freaking out and am imagining that I’m allergic to everything the Dow Chemical Company every invented. The nurse did say, “Sometimes people blister and don’t even feel it.” BLISTER! Still, whatever will happen will happen, and I’m telling myself this is just information, and the more information I have the better. Not to mention, somehow I’ve survived in the world of “common household ingredients” this long.

Otherwise, today’s been whatever. When I left the dermatologist’s office, I forced myself to go to the library and do some paperwork. Woo. Every since then I’ve had a headache, this low-level throb that won’t let go no matter what I try. It’s just demanding enough that it’s hard to write, focus, or be optimistic. (Insert period of time here.) Okay, I just took (more) pills. I’m going to the gym later and don’t want to be miserable. Sometimes you simply need reinforcements.

Earlier this evening I saw my friend Bonnie and told her that despite a part of my brain knowing “this too shall pass” and that I’ll feel differently about things (Valentine’s Day, my health, my life) later, most of my brain feels like every current challenge in my life is permanent. Like, Hang it up, Marcus. Nothing ever gets better. Bonnie said, “That’s not what you’d tell a friend, though.” And she’s right, I wouldn’t. I’d say, “Sweetheart, everything changes. Give it a day or two. Take a year if you need it. You’ll feel differently soon enough.” So I’m trying to be patient with both life and myself. I’m trying to talk to me like a friend would.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Kindness is never a small thing."

We’ll Deal with the Dishwasher Later (Blog #682)

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Well shit. It’s just after midnight, and five hours ago, after eating dinner, I started a small project. By small, I mean not small at all. I’ll explain. For months, since before my knee injury and surgery, our dishwasher has leaked. And whereas we haven’t been able to fix the problem, even with a new gasket, we’ve been able to catch the majority of the leak in a small bucket. But today we discovered a puddle of water on the floor in front of our sink (which is next to our dishwasher) and knew we had a bigger problem, since our dishwasher hadn’t been running.

As it turns out, in addition to the dishwasher leak (we’ll deal with the dishwasher later), we’ve had two leaks under our sink. Two! The first and most obvious is due to the device used to pipe water to our refrigerator. It’s faulty. After I Googled the problem, I learned this piece of equipment is one of the most hated by plumbers and is illegal in many states. It’s also a part you can’t replace on a Sunday night in Van Buren, Arkansas. Therefore, it continues to leak, but we do have (another) bucket catching the water.

The other leak, I’m afraid, is more problematic and is coming from a copper (hot water) pipe in the wall. I thought to look here because water was seeping under the wall and into our living room carpet, as well as into our kitchen. As I had to tear out some sheet rock under the sink to get to the copper pipe, I really made a damn mess. Plus, I had to rip out a thin sheet of plywood from under the sink, as well as some quarter round and a piece of particle board underneath our kitchen cabinets in order to see how extensive the water damage was.

Here’s a picture of what I discovered after I tore out the thin sheet of plywood. Notice the big water spot. That’s rotten wood and is all soft like a sponge. Ick. (Wood’s supposed to be hard.) One of the two copper pipes hiding in the back on the left is one of the referred to leak-causing culprits.

Rather than calling a plumber and shelling out a bunch of money to replace the copper pipe, Dad suggested we “try some of that stuff they sell on TV,” Flex Seal. So off we went to Walmart. Alas, we bought the tape kind (since the spray kind isn’t safety tested for potable water), and that didn’t work because the leak is apparently in a bend in the pipe, and it’s hard to wrap thick sticky tape around a bend. Oh well, it was only twelve dollars. So after doing some more Googling, I went back to Walmart and bought some JB Weld WaterWeld, a putty, which, after turning off the water supply to our house, I applied all around the bend (and then some).

That was an hour ago, and according to the directions, the putty should be dry by now. Of course, I hope it works. That would solve at least one of our two leaks. (We’ll deal with the dishwater later.) But who knows what will happen. I could turn the water back on, reach back to feel the pipe, and discover I’m no further along than I was five hours ago. Ugh. I guess there’s only one way to find out.

Otherwise, it’s been a dandy day. This afternoon I finished the writing project I started yesterday and can’t tell you how good it feels. Hell, for two straight days I went to Starbucks, set up my laptop, and pounded the keyboard while listening to Elton John, and it was actually fun. I’m sort of disappointed I don’t have a project to work on tomorrow. Well, other than the sink. But really, it’s just a reminder to me that whatever you focus your attention on can be interesting and enjoyable once you get started.

Okay, moment of truth. I’m going to turn the water on and check the leak. Hang tight.

Insert period of time here.

Well crap. At first the patch appeared to work, but then it didn’t. I hate that. Oh well, I turned the water off again and put some MORE putty on the pipe. Now we wait–all night. With any luck, the patch will dry harder and do what what it claims to do–stop leaks. If not, STOP–IT’S PLUMBER TIME. (That’s a 90s music/MC HAMMER joke, Mom.)

Water leaks are such a mess, can cause such a mess. And whereas one leak is bad enough, we have two. (We’ll deal with the dishwasher later.) But this is the deal–problems rarely show up one at time. Everything in your kitchen leaks. You blow out your knee, then your skin falls apart. Whatever. More and more, I’m learning to appreciate the process–identify your problems, solve your problems. Granted, I don’t like the process–I don’t like the crick I have in my neck thanks to tonight’s drama either–but I do appreciate it. (The process, not the crick.) And at least we have more information than we did before, at least we know what DOESN’T work, at least we’re one step closer to finding out what does.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can’t stuff down the truth—it always comes up.

"

Get It Over With (Blog #681)

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This afternoon I went to Starbucks to work on a writing project I’ve been dreading tackling for weeks. Truth be told, I always dread writing. I make it out to be this big thing in my head. I probably won’t know what to say. It’s going to be awful, worse than drinking a bottle of cough syrup. With respect to today’s writing project, this monologue has been building momentum for days, and earlier today I almost convinced myself to procrastinate this thing until next week. After all, I do have an ingrown fingernail on my right pinky, and since it smarts every time I hit the enter key, I figured I had a legitimate medical reason for staying home and watching Netflix.

Alas, I ended up telling myself, Marcus, you’re never in the mood to write. No writer is ever in the mood to write until they start writing, and dragged my happy little ass and not-so-happy ingrown fingernail to Starbucks. Still, despite the fact that I was there, I stalled–ordered a drink, checked my Facebook, took forever organizing my papers, went to pee. Finally, after staring at a blank page and thinking real hard for fifteen minutes, I wrote my first paragraph. Then my second, then my third. Then I was on a roll, and just like that, two hours flew by. Two hours, that was my self-imposed time limit. Just work for two hours, Marcus. See what you can get done in two hours.

When two hours was up, I’d finished over half of my project. What’s more, I’d actually had fun. Not only had I gotten out of the house (and run into a friend), but I’d also created something I was proud of. There was all this buildup about it not turning out well, but at some point during the process I thought, Hell, Marcus, YOU ARE A WRITER.

After packing up my things at Starbucks, I came home for a snack then headed back out to the gym. They close early on the weekends, so that was part of the reason I limited myself to two hours of writing. Plus, I figured I didn’t have to burn through the entire project in one sitting. It’ll be there tomorrow. Anyway, I’m actually starting to enjoy the gym. I have spent quite a bit of time there “in my younger days” and have started to remember what it’s like to push yourself and see results. Today while working on my shoulders, I rolled up my sleeves because they’re starting to get a hint of definition (my shoulders, not my sleeves). Oh my god, how exciting, I thought, I have muscles!

GRRR.

While at the gym, I noticed a teenager in a knee brace. I wonder if he’s had surgery, I thought. Sure enough, there was a red scar on the front of his leg. I don’t know, maybe having knee surgery is like that deal when you buy a new car then suddenly notice EVERYONE ELSE has the same car you do, since I’m beginning to spot people of all ages who’ve apparently been through the same thing I have. Hell, last night I found out that my celebrity crush, Zac Efron, recently tore his ACL and had surgery. (He’s currently on crutches.) But really, is that bizarre or what? He even injured his left knee, just like I did.

When I told my mom about this fascinating coincidence, she said, “Well if that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is.” (Everyone’s a comedian.) “I know,” I said. “It’s meant to be.”

You can’t always trust your thoughts and feelings.

Now it’s nine in the evening, and I’m excited about finishing this blog and having the rest of the night to myself. Maybe I’ll read a book, maybe I’ll watch a movie. Either way, I’m really leaning into this idea of being able to make progress by spending an hour here, an hour there on something. For example, it’s been just over six weeks since my knee surgery, and I really am getting around better and growing stronger, and it’s all happened an hour at a time. Likewise, I made noticeable progress today with my writing project, and it was just a small slice of my day. Now I’ve got six hundred words that I didn’t have before. Also, I’m learning that you can’t always trust your thoughts and feelings. That is, if there’s something you’re dreading, guaranteed, you’re going to think and feel differently about it after having done it. So whether it’s a creative project, a trip to the gym or doctor’s office, or a hard conversation, just get it over with. You’ll be glad you did, I promise.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We all need to feel alive.

"

On Learning a New Language (Blog #680)

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Here’s something fun. Sitting or standing up, flex all your toes into the floor. Then try to lift only your big toe(s), but leave the other 4 (or 8) on the ground. Do this several times. Big toe up, big toe down. Then reverse the process. Keep your big toe(s) on the ground, but lift the others. Go ahead, try it.

See if you don’t cuss.

I got this exercise from Kate Galliett and The Unbreakable Body, an online coaching program I signed up for years ago and recently rediscovered. The exercise is meant to rebuild and/or strengthen the arches in your feet, which, by the way, you apparently have three of on each foot, not just one. For me, the exercise is difficult, especially the second part, especially with my left foot. My toes shake and quiver and won’t do what my brain tells them to. (My nephews don’t obey me either.) And whereas that’s frustrating as hell, it motivates me to keep trying.

With my toes and my nephews.

Kate says that if you were going to learn a new language you’d learn a little at a time and it would be awkward at first, and it’s the same with your body. If you want to learn a new movement, or even teach your tense muscles how to relax, it’s going to take time. But positive changes can occur. You just have to slowly teach your body the language you want it to learn. Relax, be strong, be mobile, whatever.

Lift your damn toes in the air.

This idea of language has been on my mind today. This afternoon I finished reading a book by Joseph Murphy about your subconscious mind and positive self-talk. I have an off-and-on relationship with these types of books, the kind that tell you to affirm the things in your life that you want to see increase or grow. Sometimes I think they’re fabulous. Sometimes I think they’re crap. Still, I can’t deny there’s an inner monologue going on in my brain virtually all day long, and it makes sense to me for that monologue to be positive (God, you’re a handsome devil, Mr. Coker) rather than negative (I’m so disgusting, I’m going to eat a worm). I mean, if I have a choice in what I think (and why wouldn’t I, it’s my brain), I might as well choose thoughts that feel good rather than thoughts that feel bad.

Along these lines, the book said one positive affirmation is, “I am the only thinker in my universe. No one call tell me what to think about (blank).” I really like this. Recently someone gave me crap about my long hair. I was not amused by this. (My therapist says it’s not appropriate for one adult to tell another adult how to live their life. I agree.) I bring it up because even if the entire fucking world told me they didn’t like my hair, I am the only thinker in my universe. No one call tell me what to think about any part of my body. Likewise, even if someone has done me wrong (ripped my heart out and stomped that sucker flat), I don’t have to think bad thoughts about them. Indeed, I can wish them well if I want to, if for no other reason than letting go of a grudge feels better than holding on to one.

I am the only thinker in my universe.

Granted, it’s not easy to turn your thoughts around, just like it’s not easy to control your awkward toes (if you toes are anything like mine, that is). It’s not easy to learn a new language. Most of today I’ve felt nervous and fearful. Not because anything bad is looming on the horizon, but I do have a few tasks and appointments coming up this next week that I’m not looking forward to. Hell, I didn’t want to write tonight’s blog. Even now I’d rather be watching a movie and zoning out. My point being that along with my feeling nervous and fearful, I’ve had nervous and fearful thoughts (duh). What if I do something wrong? What if they don’t like me? What if I’m not good enough? And whereas I wish I could immediately banish these thoughts and feelings, I can’t.

Learning a new language is hard.

Still, I am determined to learn–determined to learn how to lift up my little toes while my big toe stays on the ground, determined to learn how to think about the world differently. Everything’s going to be okay. People like me (and if they don’t, fuck them). I’m good enough. And I’m finding there’s a lot of relief in just starting. That is, even though I can’t lift my toes quite right, I’ve started to learn, so the process isn’t as intimidating as it was before. Even though my self-talk has a long way to go, I’m at least aware of what’s going on “up there.” They’re just thoughts, and thoughts are changeable. Nothing is set in stone.

More and more, I’m learning to not come at myself with a sledgehammer. My dad’s been going with me to work out at night, and tonight he said, “I’m trying to add one or two new exercises each time we go.” How perfect is that? A month ago when I started going to the gym to rehab my leg, I wasn’t even breaking a sweat. But, like my dad, I’ve been adding in exercises one at time, and now I leave the gym glistening. (My next goal: leaving with a wet t-shirt.) So both at the gym and at home, I’m trying to add in good habits, add in good thoughts. I keep telling myself, Sweetheart, be patient. We’re learning a new language.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We're allowed to relabel and remake ourselves.

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On Every Brilliant Thing (Blog #679)

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This evening I met my friend CJ for dinner and a show in Fayetteville. It’s been forever since we’ve seen each other. Probably six months or more. We were talking about how slow time seems to pass when you’re looking forward to an event or waiting for something to happen. Like, it’ll be five more months before I can dance again (because of my recent knee injury and subsequent surgery), and that feels like ages. But when you look back–has it really been two months since I hurt myself, has it really been six months since we’ve seen each other?–gosh, time flies by.

I guess it’s just perspective.

After CJ and I ate, we walked around Dickson Street before the show started. I say walked around, but because it was butt-cold, something like twenty degrees, we more like scurried. Ugh, I hate winter. The snow was falling, the wind was blowing, my nipples were hard and everything. CJ said her boogers froze. Anyway, we ended up at one of my favorite used book stores. And whereas I had a fabulous time looking around (I adore a good book), I actually wasn’t tempted to buy anything. Go figure. Maybe I’m coming down with a fever.

The show we saw was at Theatre Squared and was called Every Brilliant Thing. It starred Liz Callaway, who–I learned tonight–played Grizabella in Cats on Broadway. (Swoon.) In tonight’s show, Liz played a seven-year-old (who eventually grows up) whose mother is manic-depressive and suicidal. Well, in order to make her mom feel better, she makes a list of “every brilliant thing” about life–ice cream, water fights, staying up past your bedtime and being allowed to watch TV–over a hundred things. And although the list doesn’t bring her mother out of her depression, it becomes a touchstone in the girl’s own life, something she comes back to over and over again throughout high school, college, marriage, and separation. In time, the list grows to a million different things that are wonderful about life–the smell of an old book, Chrisopher Walken’s voice, hairdressers who listen to what you want.

Here’s a picture of a bunch of brilliant things audience members wrote on a board outside the theater space. My contribution: 80s music.

One of the brilliant things about the show was that although it technically only starred Liz, it included nearly everyone in the audience. That is, before the show started, Liz handed out numbered notecards to many of us that each listed a single brilliant thing on it. Then as the show started and progressed, Liz would call out a number, 6 for example, and someone would say, “Roller coasters!” CJ’s card was 999–Sunshine. Mine was 518. When Liz handed it to me, she smiled and said, “I was told you wanted a long card.” It said, “When idioms coincide with real-life occurrences, for instance: waking up, realizing something and simultaneously smelling coffee.”

I can’t tell you what fun this play was. Not only did I laugh and cry, I was reminded that there are a million beautiful things about life to celebrate and take note of, even when you feel depressed, even when your chips are down. For example, this knee injury has been a real drag, especially since dancing and teaching dance is largely how I make a living. Yet in the midst of this not-so-fabulous predicament, I’ve had AMAZING care. Plus, this situation has caused me to slow down and be kinder to myself. It’s gotten me back in the gym. It’s gotten my dad IN the gym, and that’s huge. Now we’re spending more time together. Talk about brilliant things.

I guess it’s just perspective.

Seriously, I could go on about why my life is beautiful right here, right now. This morning I had granola with homemade kefir for breakfast–delicious. My car, Tom Collins, has heated seats–glorious. This evening when I thought I’d left the tickets for tonight’s show at home and called the box office to find out what to do, the woman I spoke to said, “No worries. We didn’t actually mail the tickets. They’re here at the theater. Plus, we always have a list, so you’re perfect.” A stranger said I was perfect! (How perfect is that?) Anyway, I won’t go on, but I think we should all do this now and then–talk about brilliant things–because we feel better when we do. The way I see, it shifts our perspective, wakes us up to the love that resides within our own good hearts.

Here’s something wild. My grandpa, my dad’s dad, used to wear coveralls, like, every damn day. With the exception of the occasional funeral or anniversary, I really can’t remember him wearing anything else. Well, tonight after the show, out of the blue, CJ gave me a pair of grandpa’s old coveralls and a straw hat he used to wear whenever he worked in the yard. The two of them were friends, and I guess she ended up with them after he died ten years ago. “I thought you’d like to have them,” she said. I still can’t get over it. This is what I think is truly brilliant about life, that on the coldest night of the year, you can find yourself making memories with a good friend; that years after a loved one leaves you, their memory can come flooding back; that one or a million brilliant things can remind you of the love that always lives inside you.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Things that shine do better when they're scattered about."

A Reprieve (Blog #678)

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Well shit. After six weeks of rehab-ing my knee two to three times a day, which I was told to do, I was given a reprieve today. I’ll explain. This afternoon I had an appointment with my surgeon, who said my range of motion looked great. Then he said the swelling in my knee (oh, there’s swelling in my knee) was probably due to overuse. “Most people rehab a day, then take a day off,” he said. “I’m officially giving you permission to rest. It’ll take all of six months for your strength to come back, so don’t rush.”

Afterwards I met with my physical therapist, who confirmed, “Yeah, if you come here, you don’t need to do anything else for the rest of the day.” Ugh. That’s not what was said in the beginning. “Do your exercises two or three times a day.” So much for living in the golden age of communication. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled to be able to chill out. These exercises have been taking up two to three hours every day, and now I get to back off to about one hour every other day. Plus, instead of going to physical therapy twice a week, now I’ll only be going once a week or once every other week.

Here’s to sleeping in and saving gas money.

Since leaving the doctor’s and physical therapist’s, I’ve been in a mild state of shock. As a former straight-A student, I’m so used to giving a hundred and ten percent all the time. Work, work work. Push, push, push. What’s more, unfortunately, I’m used to giving, giving, giving, and it never being enough. If this sounds like a recipe for exhaustion and constant frustration and disappointment, it is. But these last few years I’ve been learning (slowly) that you don’t have to go balls-to-the-wall every minute of every day in order to get good results, and today was another reminder of this.

A slow and steady effort will do.

This evening I taught a dance lesson, my first since injuring my knee over two months ago and having surgery six weeks ago today. Y’all, it was the perfect thing, this darling engaged couple getting ready for their first dance. This meant I didn’t have to spend an hour dancing with someone and could limit my movements to demonstrations. And since they weren’t advanced, I didn’t have to turn or spin, which I’m not allowed to do anyway. I can’t say how much fun I had. Not only did I enjoy teaching, but the lesson got me out of the house and took my mind off my problems. Well, one problem in particular. Ugh, this is so important, having something worthwhile to focus on.

Tonight, for the third night in a row, my dad and I went to the gym together. And since I was given a reprieve from leg exercises for a couple days, I worked on my upper body. I’ve been studying some muscle-balancing exercises online, so my plan is to try a new thing or two each time I work out. I figure I’ve set aside time every day to focus on my body, so I might as well keep it up. But you know, not go too fast. This is really a big lesson for me, that I don’t have to overachieve all the damn time, that a smaller amount of effort, applied consistently, will get the job done.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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When we expect great things, we see great things.

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