On One Way to Skin a Cat (Blog #878)

Last night my parents and I ate at Denny’s for my dad’s birthday because they give you a free meal–a Grand Slam–if it’s your birthday. When we got home it was after midnight, and I was pretty beat. So I read a chapter in a book about Internal Family Systems and went to bed. This morning I slept as late as possible, ate breakfast, then decided that despite it being Sunday, I needed to paint at my friend’s house that I’ve been working on this month. “What is WRONG with you?” my dad said. Now THERE’S a loaded question.

I have an entire blog about the answer.

So far, I’ve completely painted four rooms at this house, and today I started the fifth. I don’t know, I think it’s a living room, but there’s a closet area (that leads to a porch), so maybe it’s a bedroom. Either way, it’s been entirely brown, ugly brown, from the bottom of the baseboards to the top of the ceiling, and my job is to paint it white, pure-as-the-driven-snow white. Anyway, this afternoon and evening I moved the furniture out of the room, prepped the room, and rolled on one coat of paint. Also, I ended up scraping part of the ceiling in the closet area because it was flaking off when I rolled it. Talk about a damn mess. Alas, it’s all part of it. With four rooms down, I’ve convinced myself nothing is going to get in my way. Come hell or high water, this room will get done too–one roller swipe, one brushstroke at a time.

While painting I listened to YouTube lectures about a variety of topics–the gut-brain connection, myofascial release, synchronicity. And whereas I learned a lot, a voice in my head that often shows up whenever I’m learning something new said, “You’ll never be as smart as those people.” Or rather, “You’ll never be enough.”

IFS compares the voices in our heads to a family of different personalities. That is, I have an inner critic who was active today, but I also have an inner loving parent, a voice that says, “Sweetheart, you were born enough and will die enough. Nothing you do or don’t do can ever change that.” One thing I like about the book I’m reading about IFS is an analogy it uses–the idea that our minds are like living rooms in which our internal family members come and go. Think of it like this–maybe your perfectionist shows up and hangs out on your living room sofa when you’re at work or with your parents but retreats into another room and takes a nap when you’re–I don’t know–playing canasta or eating Mexican food.

Like, how often do you think, I’ve got to eat these chips PERFECTLY?

Somewhere I heard the question, “Do you believe every thought you think?” For most of us, sadly, the answer is yes. Why? Because WE thought it. Alas, we have tens of thousands of thoughts a day, and most of them aren’t even true, especially when we’re thinking about US. (Which, really, when are we not?) Personally, I think there’s a lot of freedom in the idea that just because you think a thought doesn’t mean it’s true or accurate. (The Work of Byron Katie is based almost exclusively on this premise.) And I really like the idea that a thought can simply be the opinion of a part of you, not of the whole, that if you’re beating yourself up it may just be because your inner asshole is camped out on your living room couch and has taken over the remote control.

For me, there’s been a lot of relief in not taking my thoughts so seriously. Are there self-critical thoughts I wish I could never have again? Sure. But we living in a you’re-not-enough society, and certain messages are pretty embedded in all of us. However, just because we may never be completely rid of self-criticism doesn’t mean we can’t make major strides toward self-acceptance. This evening my friend asked me if I wanted to paint with a sprayer instead of a roller and brush. And whereas I said no thank you, it’s good to have the option. My point is that both in painting and in personal growth, healing, and transformation, there are many tools available. There’s more than one way to skin a cat.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Each season has something to offer.

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On Updating Your Software (Blog #876)

Phew. It’s been a day. This afternoon I ran some errands, fixed a friend’s dishwasher, downloaded some material for an online course I’m taking, and wrote a blog for someone else (for money!). Then this evening I had dinner with my parents and later installed a chandelier for a friend. This last task took forever. Installing chandeliers almost always does. No two jobs are ever the same. Honestly, I think tonight’s job would have gone easier if I knew in the beginning what I knew in the end–that the wire needed to be so long, the chain needed to be so long, and so on. But these are things I could only find out by experimenting. That’s the deal. My inner slave driver gives me shit for not knowing things there’s no way I could know.

Stop that, inner slave driver.

Now it’s two in the morning, and I’m trying to give myself a break by blogging short. I have to be up in several hours to help my dad kick off his birthday (happy birthday, Dad) by going to the donut shop (his favorite place and one I don’t hate). So I’ll get right to the point.

Since I’m not done with the painting job I’ve been working on lately, I could have painted today. But I needed a rest. My body’s been hurting, and my sinuses have been irritated from all the fumes. Plus, I needed time to run around, to do other jobs. This afternoon I actually thought I’d blog early so I could rest more tonight. But then I installed a software update for my laptop, and the entire process took thirty minutes, which didn’t leave me enough time to write. So here I am now. Anyway, it occurred to me during my laptop’s software update that we all need a software update now and then. That is, most of us are running mental and emotional programs we picked up as children. Tonight the friend I hung the chandelier for said he was so insistent on everything being just so (you should see the two of us together) because his parents used to vacuum themselves out of their house so there wouldn’t be any footprints in the carpet.

Think about that!

My point is that here my friend is, decades later, running his life on an old program. This isn’t a judgment; it’s an observation. Plus, I’m the same way. I really gave myself a tough time for not having things all figured out with the chandelier from step one, and this is typical for me–to insist on perfection. This is an impossible standard, of course, and the fact is I could just as easily be patting myself on the back for trying and learning new things. Because no one ever taught me how to hang a chandelier. I just got curious about it one day, and if it were anyone else doing that, I’d think it was pretty cool.

Way to go, me.

Back to the software analogy, I do think that since starting therapy I’ve been updating my mental and emotional patterns. I’m not nearly as tough on myself (or others) as I used to be, and when I am I let things go more quickly. When I mess up, when I’m not perfect, I don’t imagine that the consequences will be the-sky-is-falling awful. As I recently heard–shit happens, and I’m still enough. This is the biggest software update I think we all need, a shift to the idea that no matter what happens–no matter what–we’re enough, we’re enough, we’re enough.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Our burdens are lighter when we share them.

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On Patterns and Parts (Blog #874)

Today I was supposed to see my therapist then see my acupuncturist. And whereas I did see my therapist, I totally spaced out about my acupuncturist. Well, not totally. I remembered thirty minutes before my appointment. But then I went to the bank and the thought evaporated. I don’t have anything to do until this evening, I thought, so I ended up going to an antique store then to a coffee shop. Finally, forty-five minutes into what would have been my acupuncture session, I remembered. Oh crap, I thought, and called their office. However, no one answered. So I left a message.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know what happened.”

After hanging up, my first inclination was to feel bad, to beat myself up for not remembering. But then I reminded myself that you can’t remember what you can’t remember, and it’s not like I on-purpose tried to screw anyone over. I also reminded myself that this isn’t a habit of mine. I hardly ever miss appointments. I’m typically–what’s the word?–reliable.

About an hour later, I got a call back. It was fine, they said, shit happens (my words). “We can reschedule for next week,” they said. “Although it’s possible someone could no-show today.”

“What are the chances TWO PEOPLE would do that in ONE DAY?” I said.

“You’d be surprised,” they said.

Actually, having run a dance studio for eleven years, I wouldn’t be.

But I digress.

Lately I’ve been talking a lot about patterns of thought and behavior and parts of one’s personality. For example, most of us have an inner perfectionist and/or an inner self-critic. These are the voices that started to come online for me this afternoon when I realized I’d missed my appointment. However, and I don’t mean to make this sound like it was easy, I simply wouldn’t let them. You know how sometimes part of you (your inner child) wants to eat a piece of cake, but another part of you (your inner adult) puts its foot down and says no? Well, it was like that. My inner adult said, “We are not going beat ourselves up over this. Clearly we weren’t meant to be there today. We’re always saying things happen for a reason, and now’s our chance to act like it.”

“But what if they don’t like us?” my inner people pleaser said.

“That’s their problem,” my inner adult said. “At least we like us.”

My point in sharing my internal dialogue is to drive home three points. First, patterns and parts that we find undesirable (like perfectionism or people pleasing) never disappear completely. (Only a perfectionist would want them to). This is a good thing. Tonight I bought flowers for some friends and spent ten minutes getting the length of the stems just right so the flowers wouldn’t be top heavy and cause the vase to fall over. Boy was I ever glad to have my perfectionist around THEN. Which leads me to my second point. Patterns and parts need guidance (self-leadership is the term Richard C. Schwartz uses) from you as to WHEN to either show up or shut up. (This takes practice.) Lastly, if you’re wanting to change or transform a pattern or part, you need a different pattern or part to take its place. For example, your adult could step in for your child, and your king or queen could step in for your people pleaser (because kings and queens don’t find their self-worth in the opinion of others–they know their value is inherent).

Other than my missing my appointment, the day went great. Actually, better than great. I had fun at the antique store, I got caught up with an online class at the coffee shop, I chatted with one of my best friends on the phone, and I had dinner with other friends this evening. This is another way to work with patterns and parts you want to gear down. When the day is over, take an objective inventory. Ask yourself, “Would things have gone better if I’d beaten myself up (more)?” In my case, the answer is always no. Self-flagellation never makes things better. However, understanding and accepting ever part of myself does. What’s more, when I understand and accept every part of myself, I don’t have to “force” myself to change. Rather, change happens on its own (over time). This is the power of becoming conscious of your own patterns and behaviors. It’s like, When I beat myself up, that hurts. So you stop doing it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If you think only girls cry or that crying is inappropriate for some reason, fuck you. Some things are too damn heavy to hold on to forever.

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On Cleaning Things Up (Blog #872)

Today I finished painting the bathroom I started on last week. When I first began, the walls were weak green, the ceiling brown. Now everything–the walls, the ceiling, the trim (the toilet, that bath tub, the sink)–is white. Simply white. Room by room, the entire house is becoming white. Simply white. And whereas I’m personally not a huge fan of wall-to-wall white rooms, in this case I like it. For one thing, the rooms were pretty dirty/dingy before, so the white really cleans things up. For another, since the rooms are rather small, the white opens them up, reflects more light.

Ta-da!

This evening I taught a dance lesson, went to the library to take an online class, then helped a friend who’s in the process of painting a room at his work. Thankfully, I didn’t have to paint, just hang a few pictures. However, I also helped try to remove paint from a piece of plexiglass they were using to keep the backs of chairs from damaging one of the walls they were painting. The old paint stuck to the plexiglass when they took the plexiglass off the wall. Anyway, I say “try to remove paint” because, y’all, getting paint off plexiglass is tough. We tried paint thinner, ammonia, Pine-Sol, and even whitening toothpaste (which actually worked the best). Alas, we were only partly successful. At least half the paint hung on for dear life. Finally, we gave up for tonight.

More chemicals will be tried tomorrow.

Today I started reading a new book about Internal Family Systems (IFS), a school of psychology that views one’s individual mental and emotional patterns as separate “parts.” For example, most of us have an inner child, an inner perfectionist, an inner grouch. And whereas a lot of self-help and spiritual approaches would say you should banish or be rid of certain thoughts, emotions, or parts, IFS suggests not only welcoming all pieces of yourself, but also integrating them. I’ve noticed this general idea in several other approaches as well, like anything that promotes getting to know your shadow, or even Byron Katie’s The Work, which suggests questioning (dialoguing with) your stressful thoughts.

More and more, these approaches make the most sense to me because they promote true self-acceptance and unconditional love. That is, most of us think we will love ourselves when we look, think, or feel a certain way because we think we’re not good enough or worthy enough as we are. We imagine a body that weighs less or a mind that’s more “pure” is “better” than the one we have now, so we set goals to change ourselves. However, as Pema Chodron points out, when we do this we create a “subtle aggression” toward ourselves. Of course, it is possible to go about changing ourselves because we love ourselves, because we want to take the best care of ourselves possible, rather than thinking we need to change because we’re fundamentally wrong or unworthy. This shift in motivation, of course, makes all the difference.

Both while I was painting over the weak green in the bathroom this afternoon and while I was doing my best to scrub paint off the plexiglass this evening, I thought about how challenging change can be. Our old ways of thinking and our old patterns of behaving die hard. Lately I’ve been working on not being such a perfectionist, but twice after finishing the bathroom I put my paintbrush away then got it back out because I saw spots that needed touching up. Now, I’m okay with this because I like to do a good job when I work and I didn’t get neurotic about it. This is how I know my perfectionist pattern is–um–losing its charge. I didn’t obsess for the rest of the day. I didn’t tear down all the wallpaper.

I’ll explain.

A friend of mine says that a well-balanced person will see a corner of wallpaper that’s peeling off and, like, grab the superglue. A perfectionist, however, will tear down all the wallpaper and remodel the entire room. This second option, obviously, is nuts, and yet many of us spend our entire lives overreacting, thinking everything has to be just so. We pace the floor or give ourselves panic attacks when everything isn’t. We forget to breathe.

Getting back to the idea that old patterns die hard, I’ve found a major step in changing not-so-productive patterns to more productive ones is first recognizing how the old patterns have been helpful. Tonight I made a list of several old patterns that I think have been trying to “gear down” for a few years now (things like perfectionism, self-criticism, and people pleasing), and for each one listed HOW that patterns came to my aid when I was a child. For example, a perfect, people-pleasing child is less likely to be spanked or yelled at, is more likely to be fed and taken care of. When dialoguing with your different parts, IFS suggest asking them, “How old do you think I am?” Most likely they’ll come back with a number in the single digits. The point: your parts or patterns don’t always know that you’ve grown up, that their “help” isn’t as needed now as it was at one time.

When I think about the all-white rooms that I’ve been painting, they remind me of a blank page, full of possibility. Now, are they truly a blank page? No. There are imperfections. There are flecks, even broad strokes of the paint that used to be there before. Underneath the sink or whatever. This has been and continues to be my experience with change and transformation. It’s not that you start completely over. Rather, you update yourself. You start bringing in new patterns, running new software. You clean things up. You reflect more light.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It’s not where you are, it’s whom you are there with.

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How You Get to Be King (Blog #856)

Last night I went to see a local production of Beauty and the Beast, the musical. It was glorious. And whereas I could go on about how talented the cast was (they were) and how fabulous the costumes were (they were too), I’d like to get right to what’s on my mind–the symbology behind the story. That is, there’s a reason certain stories (fairy tales and myths) endure for centuries. Not only do they address universal truths (don’t judge a book by its cover, beauty is only skin deep), they also speak to our psyches and souls. Indeed, psychology literally means “study of the soul.”

Psychiatry means “healing of the soul.”

There’s an idea I’ve mentioned before that you can tell a lot about a person (or yourself) based on their three favorite movies. This theory applies to one’s favorite fairy tale(s) also. I’ve found this to be true. When I look at my top two fairy tales (Robin Hood and The Sword and the Stone), they both have themes that I strongly identify with. That is, to borrow a phrase from J.R.R. Tolkien, the return of the king. But I digress for now. In terms of Beauty and the Beast, I see the the theme as embracing one’s shadow.

I’ll explain.

Joseph Campbell said, “All the gods, all the heavens, all the hells, are within you.” To me this means that every character in a fairy tale or myth can be interpreted as part of you the individual. I thought about this while watching the musical last night. In other words, there’s a part of me that’s an innocent bookworm (Belle), a part of me that’s hideous and angry (the beast), a part of me that’s brash and arrogant (Gaston), a part of me that’s naive and stupid (LaFou). Le Fou, incidentally, is french for The Fool. Anyway, if you’re only watching such stories to be entertained, you’re missing out. But if you can connect with at least a handful of characters, well, now we’re talking. Because, ultimately, you’re connecting with and learning about–yourself.

As Uncle Walt (Whitman) would have said, you contain multitudes.

Getting back to embracing your own shadow, Belle is initially repulsed by the beast. He is, after all, quite the proverbial jerk. This is how our shadow often seems–unapproachable, hot, seething. After all, our shadow represents all the icky, gross parts of ourselves that we’ve been ignoring for most of our lives–our anger, our rage, our lust, our sexuality, our neediness, even our tender inner child (the one we tell, Grow up, real men and big girls don’t cry). And yet when we can embrace our shadow (in the musical Beauty and the beast dance together), we receive the power our shadow contains. In Beauty and the Beast this is depicted as the beast being transformed into a prince. That which we thought was our enemy (that which we banished within ourselves) turns out to be our savior.

This afternoon my aunt and I went to see the movie The Lion King, the new remake of the classic Disney cartoon. Again, the theme of the shadow appears. Simba is told by his father, Mufasa, to not go into the shadowlands, where death and the hyenas rule. But of course he does. Every hero must eventually. Alas, he’s still a young cub and can’t fight his own battles, so all he can do is run from his demons (the hyenas) and let his father save him. Later, after his father dies (spoiler alert!), upon the urging of his evil uncle Scar (who wants to replace Mufasa as king rather than letting Simba take his place as ruler), Simba runs away.

Here’s where things get interesting. At this point in his journey, Simba meets Pumbaa and Timon, a warthog and meercat, respectively. They take him in as a friend, and under the spell of Hakuna Matata (no worries), Simba does his best to not think about his former life and responsibilities. In so doing, he almost forgets who he is (a lion, a king). Hell, he even goes on a vegetarian diet. There’s a lot to “chew” on here. Where in your life do you run away from yourself, your true potential–because you’re afraid, because you want to be like your friends, because you’d rather not grow up (a la Peter Pan)?

Eventually Simba leaves his carefree life and goes back home. This is another story about the return of the king, about self-empowerment, self-possession, and self-rulership. Still, before Simba can “assume the throne,” he MUST face his shadow. This is depicted in his battle against the hyenas and his uncle Scar. Now, in this story our hero doesn’t embrace his shadow so much as subdue it (the hyenas and Scar are either killed or driven out), but the point remains the same. You don’t get to be king–of the forest or of your life–by running AWAY from that which terrifies you. Rather, you get to be king (or queen) by facing, perhaps embracing, that which terrifies you, by confronting or coming to terms with that which controls you. You get to be king by remembering who you are. You get to be king–by growing up.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Whereas I've always pictured patience as a sweet, smiling, long-haired lady in a white dress, I'm coming to see her as a frumpy, worn-out old broad with three chins. You know--sturdy--someone who's been through the ringer and lived to tell about it.

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The Great Lesbian Belt Mistake (Blog #855)

Hum. Where are we going today?

Let’s find out.

This morning I woke up at 7:30(!), and before my feet even hit the floor, I was smiling. Crap, I thought, I hope I’m not becoming a morning person. Seriously, 7:30 is early for me, y’all, but I knew I had a lot going on today, which is why I decided last night to set my alarm for 8:00 this morning–and why, apparently, my body woke me up even earlier than that. Anyway, I got up, got dressed, made breakfast, and headed to work at my friend’s rent house. And whereas my goal was to finish yesterday’s painting project (the living room), after four hours I’d only ALMOST finished it. Alas, I was out of time and nearly out of paint. Of course, my inner perfectionist was disappointed, but the part of me that wanted to take a shower and get on with the day was quite pleased.

There’s no hurry, it said. We’ll finish it later!

And so we shall.

Currently it’s the afternoon, almost evening, and I’m blogging now because I’m going out with a friend later for dinner and a show. Just a bit ago I stopped at the dry cleaners to pick up some items I dropped off for alterations last week. Simple enough stuff, I thought–a pair of shorts that needed a button sewn back on (too much pizza, I guess), and a cloth belt that needed two new D-rings sewn in.

I’ll explain.

Since I had my estate sale almost three years ago, I haven’t owned a belt. And whereas I wish I’d kept one specific belt, somehow I’ve gotten along just fine without one. Anyway, a couple weeks ago I bought a pair of shorts, and they came with this cloth belt, one of those ones with two D-rings on one end. You know, the adjustable kind (for those of us who like pizza). The plain end goes around your waist, through both rings, then double backs through just one of them.

Well, I’ll be damned if one of those D-rings didn’t snap in half the first time I tried to take the belt off.

No kidding.

Not one to be easily defeated, rather than throw the belt away, I decided to have it repaired. Here’s how. First I went to a local thrift store and bought a cheap cloth belt with two (solid) D-rings for fifty cents. (Talk about a bargain.) Then I cut the new D-rings out and, along with the one D-ring belt, took them to the cleaners and explained–“Please take this old ring out of the belt, then sew both these other rings in.”

“Sounds simple,” the lady said.

Well, get this shit. As I just said, earlier I picked up my shorts and belt. And whereas the shorts were fine, the belt wasn’t. They sewed a D-ring into EACH END of the belt. Ugh. Instead of having a “male” end and a “female” end, I ended up with two female ends. THEY TURNED MY BELT INTO A LESBIAN!

I can’t tell you how unamused I was.

“Do you want us to fix it?” the girl said.

“Uh, yeah I do,” I said.

Y’all, I hate to admit that this little kerfuffle upset me more than I wish it had. Seriously, for a good forty-five minutes, I was like, What the hell? How could anyone imagine that this setup would work? (No offense, lesbians.) Maybe it’s because I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. Or the fact that my body hurts. Or just that I don’t deal with stupid very well. (Not very well at all, I’m afraid to say.) Regardless, my inner perfectionist wasn’t having it. What a waste of time and money, he said.

Now. Yesterday I talked about trying to feel better, just a little better than you currently do. My therapist says, “I practice what I preach,” so I figured I should too. That is, I gave myself a moment to be pissed off, then I started thinking of my friend and the show I’ll be seeing later. That helped. Then I started this blog and was honest as I knew how to be. (I’ve heard the truth will set you free.) Well, in telling the story, I cracked a few jokes, and THAT helped (I think I’m pretty funny). Now none of this seems like a big deal. I’m like, So what? (Sew what?) I’ll have to go back to the cleaners next week. I could meet my future husband there. Or find twenty dollars on the ground. THEN how would I feel about The Great Lesbian Belt Mistake of 2019?

Um, grateful.

Somewhere I heard that until the age of four, children don’t differentiate smells as good or bad. This is why they can play with shit or vomit and not gag. They don’t find gross smells gross. They just find them “interesting.” I think there’s something to being able to be neutral like this. For example, instead of getting personally offended by the dry cleaners’ (stupid) mistake, I could have thought, Well, isn’t that fascinating? People do the darndest (stupidest) things. Currently I’m at a coffee shop, and a number of the decorations on the wall are crooked as a dog’s hind leg. The lamp shade across the room is tilted. My inner perfectionist is going nuts. However, a part of me remains neutral. My inner creative thinks, That tilted shade looks like a turned-up hat! This is what happens when you get neutral, when you want to feel good. Life becomes interesting.

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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Acknowledging the Weather (Blog #847)

Phew. I’d really wanted this entire day–from start to finish–to be easy going, relaxing. And whereas part of it was, not all of it was. I’ll explain. This morning I had a lovely breakfast then sat down with a new book, about labyrinths, which I blogged about yesterday. My goal was to read the entire book in one day. I always feel like a badass when I do that. Plus, I have SO MANY books that are partially completed because I often do what I did today–start a book but not finish it right away (or ever).

The reason I didn’t finish today’s book is because after reading for a couple hours I decided to take my car, Tom Collins, to get an oil change. “And if you don’t mind,” I told the girl at the counter, “check out the steering wheel–it’s been pulling to the right lately.” Well, later a guy called and explained–“One of your tires is separated.”

“What does that mean?” I said. (Will it be getting a divorce soon?)

Well, duh, my tire was coming apart, which meant I needed a new one–two new ones. For $175 each. Ouch. Talk about depressing. Guess who’s coming apart now? Can’t a guy catch a break?

I know, I’m whining.

“At least your tire didn’t blow up as you were driving down the interstate,” my dad said later.

Yes, at least that didn’t happen.

Money’s been a big issue for me the last few years. I can’t tell you the number of times it’s felt like the universe has kicked me in the balls financially just to turn around and do it again. I mean, I get that it’s not personal. Shit happens. It just FEELS personal. Of course it does. A person’s feelings always feel personal. Anyway, all I can say is that although life’s challenges keep coming, my reaction to them is getting better. In the past I would have been upset about the two new tires for days. Today the “oh crap” cloud only hung around for a few hours. Then it was back to sunny skies.

Recently my chiropractor and I were discussing a situation that’s been frustrating me for a while now. And whereas I won’t say what it is, I will say–it’s my life. Anyway, he said, “Think about how that feels,” and I said, “It feels like a headache (which I get a lot of).” Then he said, “Now think about how it will feel when that situation resolves.”

“Oh wow,” I said. “That feels more open, more free.”

Later I told my therapist about this interaction and–without warning–began to cry. “I’ve been waiting for my life to change before I could let my guard down and relax,” I said, “but the truth is–I’m allowed to feel good now.”

I’m allowed to feel good now.

This has been on my mind a lot lately, that I’m responsible for my mental and emotional atmosphere. It’s not something that’s going to come together reliably, consistently on its own. Thinking you’re going to be in a generally happy state of mind without any effort is like thinking you’re going to have a rockstar body (after your twenties) without making a damn effort to have one. Applying this logic to my internal response to my car needing new tires, I decided this afternoon that I could either continue to feel bad until my mood passed on its own, or I could purposefully do something to improve it.

The “feel better” route I ended up taking was a meditation in which I first accepted my life for how it currently is (warts and all) and then imagined how I wanted it to be. And whereas the imagining how I want it to be part felt great–more open, more free–it was the accepting part that really shifted my attitude. So often when I’m afraid, nervous, worried, or upset, I shove those feelings aside. I clench my jaw and think, I don’t have time for this. I’ve got shit to do. Books to read, blogs to write. But in the meditation I welcomed all of my thoughts and feelings, all of my life situations exactly as they were. Out loud I said, Everyone and everything is welcome here.

For me, this exercise caused an immediate, positive shift. There’s something about not pushing so hard, about not trying to change the weather. So many times I’ve walked outside to cloudy skies and an absolute downpour and thought, Oh crap. Then I’ve run to my car, trying to avoid getting wet. Please. Other times I’ve smiled and purposefully walked slowly so the rain could soak me through. This is what I mean by acceptance, and acceptance can be applied to any situation, thought, or feeling in your life. It’s not saying you don’t want things to change. It’s acknowledging the weather for what it is–right here, right now, powerful. So we can either run away from the storms in our lives, or we can face them, embrace them. We can say, “I’d like to stop pushing against you. I’d like us to work together.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Everything is all right and okay.

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I Meant to Do That! (Blog #837)

Photo by Virgilia Dale. Thanks, V!

This morning I saw my therapist and read her yesterday’s blog, about childhood memories. I don’t do this very often, maybe once every couple months, if I’d like her opinion on something or it seems relevant. For example, on our last therapy-iversary, I read her my post about why me and my therapist are successful. It was my way of saying, “Thank you.” (I also brought cookies.) Anyway, I read last night’s blog because, as I told her, “I cried when I wrote it and am hoping I can cry again.”

“Go for it,” she said. “Get the poison out of your water.”

Then she added, “I like how you’ve been crying more lately.”

Well, sure enough, it worked. I cried more when I read the post to her than when I wrote the damn thing. I guess there’s something about my therapist’s presence. It’s like I know I can say anything, be completely me in the moment, and that’s going to be okay. Never once in five years have I felt judged. Not that I’ve always been agreed with–far from it–but I’ve never felt judged. Instead, no matter if I’ve been angry, sad, depressed, irate, confused, lethargic, disappointed, hurt, or horny–I’ve felt totally accepted. And I guess that’s been one of the big gifts this blog has given me too–acceptance.

Self-acceptance.

I imagine this is why certain posts make me cry. Like last night’s, they’re usually the ones that have something to do with my childhood. The way I see it, I probably needed to cry (and yell and scream) back then but just didn’t know how. Consequently, it’s like some part of me got asked to sit down and shut up indefinitely. But here’s the thing about writing if you do it correctly–you bring your whole self to it. This means that when you’re being creative all the parts of yourself that have previously been silenced can potentially speak up. They may cry and they may to tell people to fuck off. If you’re smart, you’ll listen. This is what self-acceptance is–not letting every part of you run the show, but letting every part of you be heard.

The above picture of me at a lemonade stand showed up in my Facebook memories today. For a while my dance studio was in the same building as a photographer, and the lemonade stand was one of her props. Anyway, this picture always makes me think of that overused saying–when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Along these lines, there’s this quote from Joseph Campbell–“To transform you hell into a paradise is to turn your fall into a voluntary act. Joyfully participate in the sorrows of the world and everything changes.” To me this means not so much that you make the best of a bad situation, but that on some level you actually choose the bad situation.

I’ll explain.

There’s an idea in the self-help world that you’re happy not when you have what you want, but rather when you want what you have. Think about it. We usually associate wanting with things we don’t have, but if you were to–in this moment–look at everything in your life and say, “I want this,” you’d immediately experience a sense of contentment. For me this would look like saying, “I want to weigh 190 (ish) pounds. I want to be single. I want to be living at home with my parents and experiencing a headache.”

Good news! I am.

Applied to one’s past, all of this means that rather than labeling your difficult circumstances as bullshit or something that never should have happened, you look at them and say, “That was exactly what I needed.” This is what Campbell means when he says, “Turn your fall into a voluntary act.” Children do this all the time. They trip on their shoelaces, hit the concrete, and scab their knees then immediately look at their friends and say, “I MEANT to do that!” In keeping with my previous discussion about last night’s blog about childhood memories and specifically the fact that my family’s home burned down when I was four, this means that yes, I cry or scream about it when I need to, but I refuse to let myself be bitter about the situation. Instead I think, That helped make me who I am today. And I like who I am today.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Even if you can't be anything you want to be, you can absolutely be who you were meant to be. Don't let anyone else tell you differently.

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How to Change the World (Blog #834)

Yesterday I started reading a book about dream interpretation and active imagination, active imagination being a technique you can use to dialogue with various parts of your unconscious. For example, you could dialogue with the part of you that’s depressed, angry, or lazy. Or the part of you that doesn’t want to lose weight (and probably has a good reason for that) even though you do want to (or rather, your ego or personality does). The basic idea is that you get quiet and still, then ask your unconscious to present an image or symbol that represents that energy pattern in your life. I’d like to talk to the part of me that’s resentful. Then you see who or what shows up and you have a conversation with it, with yourself.

As I spent most of today continuing to read the book I started yesterday, I tried this active imagination exercise earlier this evening with several different parts of myself, including my resentful part. Y’all, it was fascinating. It presented itself as a poor, newsie-type boy with bad grammar. “Whadayawant?” it said.

“I’d like to hear what you have to say,” I replied.

“Oh yeah, you ain’t been so interested before,” it said.

“Well, I’d like to try again,” I said.

I’ll spare you the rest of the conversation, but this is an important point in active imagination or talking to your internal parts–because they’ve been so frequently ignored, they often won’t want to chat. So you have to let them know you’re serious about (re)establishing a relationship with them. Sweetheart, I’m here for you. In the case of my inner resentful kid, he ended up saying that I give him a lot of crap for not knowing enough, not knowing enough being an internal attitude of mine that manifests itself as my cramming book after book into my brain and always having to learn. “You must think I’m a real dope,” he said. Later he said that it wasn’t that he was against learning, but he’d really like to have a break now and then. “Maybe you could just sit around and chew on a toothpick,” he said.

I realize this may sound like a bunch of crap, but it’s something that hit home for me. Lately I’ve been putting a lot of pressure on myself to produce, stay busy, learn more, and even heal. Because my outer life doesn’t look like I want it to, I feel like I’ve got to DO something about it. And whereas this may be true, going nonstop is exhausting. But when I think of that kid I dialogued with this evening, I picture someone free in his body and world. A kid who’d just assume lie around or play baseball than read a book or LEARN. Honestly, that sounds nice. I could use more of that–relaxation.

One of the book’s points is that when your unconscious gives you information (in a dream or via active imagination) it’s not enough to think about or even interpret that information–you need to do something with it. For example, after my inner resentful kid told me I could be a real stick in the mud, I went for a walk and–according to his suggestion–didn’t listen to an informational podcast along the way. Last night I dreamed I drank pickle juice, which I associate with being sour but also full of electrolytes (energy). And whereas I’m still chewing on the meaning, I’m thinking it has to do with the idea that although some of my current experiences are sour, they’re giving me energy for what’s to come. Anyway, the point is that in order to HONOR the dream, I drank some pickle juice for breakfast.

This idea, that you need to do something with the knowledge your unconscious gives you, seems to be true across the board. For example, recently I got a text message that fundamentally bothered me. Essentially it was from someone I really don’t know that well who wanted a favor. Well, this has happened a number of times before, and although it’s always bothered me, I just ignored it, which is to say I ignored the part of myself that was bothered. However, when it happened this time, I dealt with it directly. I said no. And whereas my answer was well-received, that’s not the point. The point is that when your unconscious or even your intuition gives you information, it’s usually asking you to take an action. To further illustrate the point, there were a lot of insights about my relationships I had in therapy that never really “sunk in” until I had the balls to have difficult conversations and–in some cases–set boundaries.

Granted, my therapist says that you don’t have to take action EVERY time you’re alerted to a problem or a situation. “The important thing is to see things for what they are,” she told me once when someone I knew had said something shitty to me. In that case, I acknowledged their behavior for what it was and let it slide. Still, I had fantasies of telling that person off and ultimately wasn’t satisfied until I said SOMETHING to them.

For the record, I didn’t tell them off; I was simply honest. I think this is shitty. This is another point the book I’m reading makes–that our dreams and fantasies are often extreme because they need to get our attention. Last night after the pickle juice dream I dreamed that I was yelling at someone who wouldn’t let me have fun with my friends or, later, be by myself. “FUCK OFF!” I said. And whereas I think the interpretation of this dream goes back to my needing to go easier on myself and take a break now and then, the point remains the same–my unconscious isn’t asking that I start aggressively telling other people, or even my inner task master, to fuck off. Rather, it’s simply trying to alert me to the fact that a previously ignored part of me would like to be heard, would like to be considered.

Start by accepting every part of yourself.

For quite a while now, there’s been a (small) idea floating around the globe about equality–equal rights for women, for all races, for all sexualities. Along these lines, there’s also the idea that everyone deserves to have a voice. And whereas sometimes when I look at the flapdoodle people say and share on social media, I fundamentally agree with this–the right to free speech. Also, and I realize I’m not the first to do so, I’d like to propose that equality and freedom of speech start at home, inside of you. What I mean is that if there’s any part of you that’s angry, resentful, sad, depressed or anything else, and you’re unwilling to listen to, hear, or consider it, then I guarantee that you’ll be unwilling to listen to, hear, or consider something or someone outside of you as well. Conversely, the more you open up to the variety of voices inside of you, the more you’ll open up the variety of voices outside of you. Want everyone in the world to be accepted? Start by accepting every part of yourself. This isn’t easy, of course, but it’s how you truly change the world. You change YOUR world.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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More often than not, the truth is a monster. It gets in your face and makes you get honest. Sometimes the truth separates you from people you care about, if for no other reason than to bring you closer to yourself.

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Tits Up (Blog #824)

Sometime yesterday I (apparently) found the magic probiotic/kimchi combination to heal my sinus infection. Last night after I blogged, my energy level kicked up, and I couldn’t fall asleep. Oh well, I’ll take being tired over being sick any day. Tired–that’s what I’ve been today, since I got up early to teach a dance lesson. Again, I’m fine with this. It’s nice to be employed. Did you hear that, Universe? I’m grateful for both feeling better and having work to do.

So please let’s keep this up.

Currently it’s one-forty-two in the afternoon, and I’m blogging now because I have a doctor’s appointment shortly and then the short-story writing class I’ve been attending for the last month. Earlier today, after my dance lesson, I went to Kinko’s and printed off a dozen copies of the story I finished yesterday, so everyone in the class can have one to either criticize or praise. Or both. Or remain silent.

I’m preparing myself for all reactions.

During this morning’s dance lesson, the wedding couple I’ve been working with practiced one of their stunts. You know that little moment at the end of Dirty Dancing when Patrick Swayze lifts Jennifer Grey over his head, like, no big deal. Well, it’s been going–um–okay, but today it just wasn’t happening. The groom’s arms were tired. His knees hurt (because another part of the dance requires his spinning on his knees). The bride was nervous. Ugh. It’s a big deal to trust someone else to hold you above their frickin’ head. There’s a part of the lift that requires the girl to push off the guy’s shoulders and immediately go into that “light as a feather” pose, and she kept hanging on.

Girl, I get it.

It’s hard to let go.

Earlier at Kinko’s I forgot to hit the “collate” option, and my pages printed like this–page 1, page 1, page 1–page 2, page 2, page 2. Anyway, I had to sort them myself by hand on an empty counter–page 1, page 2, page 3–page 1, page 2, page 3–and when the manager came over to see if I needed any staples or paper clips, I imagined that he saw the first page of my short story, then I got embarrassed because–What will he think? What will anyone think? Maybe it’s a bit of what I felt like when I started this blog. Here I am world, this is me.

In the Netflix serious The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, the main character is a standup comedian, and her manager–a real dude of a lady–always has the same encouragement for her client before she goes on stage–“Tits up.” This has become “a thing” with me and some of my friends, and I’ve started using it with my dance students, even though they haven’t seen the series. It means–stand up straight, lift your head (don’t look at the ground!), and BE PROUD. In all areas of my life, I’m working on this, on not shrinking or shying away or feeling ashamed, but rather being comfortable and confident in my skin and in my work, however much I weigh, however I happen to feel, and regardless of what others think.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Sometimes we move with grace and sometimes we move with struggle. But at some point, standing still is no longer good enough.

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