These Hundreds of Thousands of Words (Blog #1094)

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Phew. All day I’ve been tired, sad. And whereas I could blame lack of sleep and a number of other things, the fact is I’ve already begun to grieve the loss of this blog. Including tonight, I only have three more posts to go. I don’t know. It’s weird. Just like when a person dies you go through all those stages–denial, anger, grief, acceptance, bargaining–I’m going through those with this. Denial because, has it really been three years? Anger because of what hasn’t happened, hopes and expectations that haven’t been met. Ugh. All the feelings. The good news being that, so much more than three years ago, I’m open to all the feelings and what they have to teach me. Sweetheart, letting go is never easy.

At times throughout this process I’ve imagined that I’d, I guess, somehow be perfectly healed, or just perfect, on the other side of this thing. And that one of my final posts would be like, here’s how I did it. And how you can too for three easy payments of $127. Alas, if anyone ever pitches you such a deal, run don’t walk away. Because the fact is that no matter what a person learns, they are always and forever still growing. Still a work in progress. As much as people like me may hate it, there is no perfect to get to. If it does exist, perfection is like the casserole I made for dinner tonight. A little bit of everything. One big delicious mess.

With cheese.

This being said, I would like to take this blog as an opportunity to “sum up” what I’ve learned or how I’ve grown as a direct result of this project. My idea being that, although I despise numbered lists and bulleted sub-headings, I’ll go through my blog “categories” one by one and write a few sentences or paragraphs about each one. As these categories became self-evident early on and new ones haven’t been added in maybe a year and a half, I’ve come to see them as themes, or what this time in my life has been all about. The lessons I’ve been learning and doing my best to embody.

So here we go. I’m just going to shoot from the hip. And I’ll try to be brief. (Yeah right, Marcus.)

1. Abundance

Ugh. Does this have to be the first one? This has been a toughy for me, since, as a result of my traumas, I grew up believing that if you love something, just wait, it’ll be taken away from you. And yet my therapist, who has a real hard on for abundance, has shoved it down my throat. Yes, things leave, but other things come around. Thankfully, I have made progress. For one thing, money isn’t terrifying to me anymore. Even though I don’t have much of it. Although now I imagine if I did I wouldn’t be scared of it. It’s just paper. The most important thing being, however, that I really do believe deep down that I’ve been given an abundance of talent, love, help, knowledge, wisdom, and resources (both internal and external) with which to make my way through life. Creatively, I’ve been given an abundance of ideas. This is what counts. I know it’s rough when your bank account is strapped, but don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

2. Affirmations

A lot of self-help books are huge on affirmations, looking in the mirror and saying, “I’m beautiful, rich, and forgiving.” Or whatever. And whereas I’ve tried this shit more times than I care to admit, it hasn’t been what’s worked for me. Instead, the affirmations that have turned my life around, rather than being forced into me, have come out of me. That’s what this blog has been about. Sweetheart, be patient. I’m here for you. So if you like the idea of affirmations, go for it. But don’t open a book to find them. Open your heart.

3. Archetypes and Personalities

More and more I see the world through the lenses of “we’re all different” and “we’re all the same.” And whereas I don’t subscribe to one particular personality system, it’s helped me to be able to label people with archetypes (diva, drama queen, addict, pimp), since it allows me to get impersonal about their behavior. Or even mine. (Of course I’m worried about my outfit; I’m an artist!) Additionally, the more personality systems I study, the more I realize that every archetype and personality type is not only neutral (although it can be animated positively or negatively), but also necessary. God knows we don’t need everyone to an anal-retentive control freak. But God also knows the world would be a much sloppier place without those of us who are. (Wash your damn hands.)

4. Authenticity

This is a buzz word these days, and one my therapist actually dislikes because it’s so “hip.” To me it equates to being honest, even and especially if that honesty looks like anger, sadness, or confusion. You know, the emotions we hide behind our masks. Alas, it doesn’t seem to be something we can achieve every minute of every day (certain niceties are required in a polite society), but it is something we can strive toward. Being real. Being ourselves. My only other thought about it is that I’ve often been as surprised as anyone else when I’ve been able to be assertive or–here’s another word my therapist hates–vulnerable. Like when I cry in public or admit my faults (which, I agree with my therapist, isn’t being vulnerable, it’s being honest). Meaning we often don’t know what our authentic selves look like until they reveal themselves to us.

5. Balance

Is required and looks different for everyone. How do you know you’re out of balance in any area of your life? Your body will tell you. Learn to listen to its subtle and not-so-subtle messages. Additionally, pay attention to your relationships. If they’re full of drama, contention, or anything but an underlying peace, something is out of whack. Chances are you’ll never be able to hold the center point forever, so just keep your eyes on the middle. The rest will take care of itself.

6. Boundaries

My therapist calls boundaries the Holy Grail of personal growth. And whereas I used to think I had them, I realized I didn’t. Pro tip: if you can’t say no or if you tell the most personal details of your life to complete strangers (or vice versa), you don’t either. So get some. Learn to not only say no, but hell no. Figure out what you’re worth and don’t settle for less. Get in touch with your soul, do whatever it says, and never, under any circumstances, sell it. For one thing, it’s not yours to sell. For another, you’ll always regret it. How do you do these things? By learning to say no, hell no. And don’t worry if you “mess up.” Life will, without a doubt, give you another opportunity to excel. As with all things, having good boundaries is a process.

7. Coco’s Favorites

These blogs are my personal favorites. Many are already tagged as such, but I’ll be adding others as I work my way through reading all my old posts.

8. Creativity

People say they’re not creative, but I’m convinced we all are, even if it’s just in the way we make up a story about how we’re not creative, or what someone did that ruined our lives, or how awful things are (when they’re really not). Of course, creativity is better expressed through writing, dancing, knitting, planting, decorating, or whatever, and I’m certain our souls MUST, somehow, expand themselves through creating. So first stop and notice WHAT you’re creating (dinner, drama, dissent), then think about what you’d LIKE to be creating (an encouraging environment, a business, a hilarious blog). Then CHOOSE something different.

9. Dancing

Is good for a hundred reasons. Do it. Even if you don’t like it, consider that you were made to move. Some way, somehow. Your very heart BEATS. Tune into the rhythm of your life. If you ARE willing to give dancing a try, remember what my mentor Maggie tells her students. “Let dancing love you.” If not dancing, then let something, someone. Please, open your heart.

10. Dream Interpretation

I wish I were a master at this or had some of the experiences the people who write all those books about dreams do. Lucid dreaming, predicting the future, and whatnot. I don’t know, my therapist says I have the “most auspicious dreams,” so maybe it’s just easy to think someone else’s life is better or more fabulous than yours. Regardless, I do believe our subconscious/inner wisdom speaks to us a thousand different ways. Through dreams, synchronicities, hunches, bodily sensations, feelings, emotions, and even thoughts. So it’s whatever floats your boat, whatever you’re willing to listen to. Just know that it’s not all as random as it seems. Know that you can trust yourself. You’re wiser than you realize.

11. Emotions

Are not something you primarily think about. They’re something you primarily feel. Also, I hate to break it to you, they’re not something that go away when you shove them down. Like, they just hang out in the shadows. In your shadow. And whereas I wish I had a surefire way for coaxing them out, I’ve learned they come up when they’re ready. The best thing we can do is to listen. Be curious. Love, or at least make space for, whatever arises. Including frustration, anger, grief, sadness, and anything else that gives you snot bubbles. Because that’s your inner wisdom talking. For example, anger often means “get some damn boundaries.” (See above.)

12. Encouragement

Whatever you’re going through, I promise you’re not alone. Yes, your situation is unique to you and is your cross to bear, but it’s not the first time it’s ever happened. In Alcoholics Anonymous they say, “You’re only as sick as you are isolated.” Meaning that a burden is automatically lifted when you stop trying to carry it yourself. So please know that people love you and are rooting for you. Granted, they don’t always know what to say, but I guarantee there are people who would take a bullet for you in a heartbeat. People who will cry at your funeral and feel that something important, something they liked, is missing from their lives when you’re gone.

13. Facebook Live

This is where I’ve put the few live videos I’ve done and where I’ve read, out loud, other stories I’ve written. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll do at least one more when this is over.

14. Gratitude

Is often something those self-help books try to force. Don’t worry, be happy. Alas, I’ve found that gratitude, like an affirmation, works best when it springs naturally from the heart. A humbling voice, it says, “Sweetheart, you have everything you could ever need and more.” What’s more, I’m convinced this voice is always there, available even when we are most down. It says, “Life sucks, but we’ve been given this breath, and with this breath we will make it to our next. Or make it home.” So again, listen to your heart. (Not your head.)

15. Growing Up

Involves letting go of the need to blame, being your own parent most of the time, taking responsibility for your life and choices, and sucks. But is absolutely necessary. Also, it’s natural. Stop fighting it.

16. Hope

As stated in The Shawshank Redemption, “is a good thing, maybe the best of things.” So please, please, please allow as much room as is humanly or even divinely possible that even your most challenging circumstance can turn around for the better. On a dime if heaven so sees fit. Along these lines, pray for miracles and expect them to show up.

17. Improv Comedy

Is worth trying or at least taking note of. Because, like life, it requires that you think on your feet, play well with others, and not look back. Audiences may not be forgiving, but improv teaches you to be. So what if the show didn’t go well? It’s over. (Everything in your life is over.) Why is this a good thing? Because now we can play another game.

18. Letting Go

Is one of the hardest things you’ll ever do. Because we like what we like and we want it last. Our relationships, our stuff, our identities, our stories and judgments about ourselves and others. Our blogs. But nothing lasts. We don’t get to keep a thing. So work on enjoying whatever it is while it’s here, then letting it go. The way the sun sets, the way a storm ceases. With grace.

19. Myths and Fairy Tales

Aren’t just cute little stories. Rather, within them are embedded the mysteries of life, our personalities, and our struggles. Best thing I ever heard on this topic was that your three favorite movies reveal the path your life is on, and I believe this more and more. Recently through EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) I realized one of my favorite movie characters (for almost twenty years now) was not only hung up on integrity (like I am) but was also embarrassed by his station in life (like I used to be). The idea being that you’re drawn to these characters and their stories for a reason. Your inner wisdom is nudging you forward, giving you a template for what’s possible. Be willing to take the trip.

20. Patience

Is almost harder than letting go. But is one of the most useful traits you could ever hope to develop. Because although the universe is capable of turning on a dime, it rarely does. What’s more, it rarely does what you want it to, when you want it to. Pro tip: the less you insist on having everything your way, the more patient you’ll be. So, in the words of Nancy Byrd Turner, “learn to labor and to wait.” Give yourself the gift of time. To grow. To heal. Nature does not proceed in leaps, and neither do we.

21. Perspective

If I could give everyone one gift, it would be the gift of perspective, the gift of being able to perceive whatever it is thats bothering you (including yourself) in a different way. Alas, since I can’t, go see a therapist. This is what they get paid for. But seriously, what if you could put on a pair of mystical glasses that allowed you to see everything in your life, even the rotten stuff, as heaven’s gift to you? What if you could turn your viewpoint upside down and really see that there’s nothing in your life by accident and that–if it’s there–it’s there for a reason? To challenge you, to grow you, to change you, and maybe even the world, for the better? What if you could look at the mountain you’re facing and, rather than asking God to remove it, absolutely know you were meant to climb it? And then put your boots on. This is my encouragement. Pick up a book, go to church, or bang your head against the wall, not until your circumstances shift, but until your perspective does. Because that’s when you will.

22. Relationships

Seems to be the medium through which everything happens. The bullshit, the learning, and the healing. So look alive. Like or not, no one is alone. We’re all in this together.

23. Self-Acceptance

Means coming to love yourself warts and all, not putting up such a damn front, and being gentle with yourself and others. It means accepting every part of you–even the ugly, angry, and sad parts. The weird thing? The more you accept yourself exactly as you are, the more you accept others and the world exactly as they are. And vice versa. This is why Jesus said don’t judge. Because that which you hold against someone else, sooner or later, you’ll hold against yourself. But as you accept That Which Is Unacceptable in yourself or another, That Which Is Unacceptable becomes your teacher. All parts come bearing gifts. Hold out your hands.

24. Spiritual Practice

Looks different for everyone but is something I’m convinced we all long for and participate in somehow. Maybe one person does it in the kitchen, the way they lovingly prepare the perfect meal to feed their family. Maybe another does it in a chapel. I grew up as a Christian. Last night I prayed the rosary. Now I don’t know what to call myself. More and more, the labels are unimportant. It’s the experience I’m after, the inner knowing that I’m part of something bigger than myself. The conviction that every time I take a breath, God breathes with me. I’m after what the mystics know, the truth that every life, every rock, and every molecule is both sacred and holy.

25. The Physical Body

This could be an entire series of posts. And has been. Suffice it to say that every experience we have on this planet is granted to us through our physical organism. And whereas my personal temptation has been to ignore my body’s signals (information, guidance, wisdom) or be mad it at for hurting or being sick (not good enough), I’ve learned that it is the master and I am its pupil. I am in its classroom, and I must play by its rules. So more and more I’m learning to love, honor, and take care of my body, this gift I’ve been given. Granted, it’s easy to compare yourself to others and find fault with your body, but then you miss The Mystery. Then you miss the wonder that is you.

26. Therapy and Healing

Is actually a thing. And whereas I could go on and on about different therapies and modalities I’ve tried and succeeded with, really, it all started the day I picked up the phone and called my therapist. One little choice that was really a big choice. “I think I need help,” I said. Thankfully, my therapist was a good fit for me, and her office became a safe place, a sacred place, where I could begin to put myself back together. And whereas I’ve done a lot of work on my own, I think this is a huge part of the process. Having a witness. Not someone that does the work for you, but someone who sees you and believes in you. Maybe more than you do. Someone who is willing to stick with you through it all. Another big part being what my therapist told me that first session. “For this hour we’re going to do two things: sit in truth and not judge ourselves.” So whatever path you choose, I suggest taking these two gems with you. The truth (it will set you free) and non-judgment. I promise, you’ll get further faster if you do.

27. Transformation

Is not only possible, but necessary. Just like a caterpillar can’t stay a caterpillar forever, we as humans can’t stay our old selves forever. Indeed, we’ve been designed to grow, change, transform, evolve. To forget that which is behind and press forward toward the mark. To be burned in the ashes and rise again. To die on the cross and ascend three days (or three years) later. This is written in our stories, and this is written in our cells. So just find a way to accept it. Then get on with the process. Set your foot upon The Path. Entertain the idea that you are more (insert positive adjective here) than you ever thought possible.

28. Travel Writing

Hasn’t been a huge part of my journey or this blog but is still worth mentioning. One lesson from traveling being that, just like that, the universe can take you on a trip, put someone on your path, or put you on someone else’s. Just like that, you can be in a whole new world. With a whole new perspective. JRR Tolkein said, “Still round the corner there may wait, a new road or secret gate.” Believe in this magic. Trust that as one journey ends, another is beginning.

29. Writing

Isn’t for everyone, but is for everyone. At least, words are for everyone. Personally, these words, these hundreds of thousands of words, have changed my life. Once a writer friend pointed out that I was literally writing into existence the life I wanted to live. Sweetheart, hang on for one more day. Things will get better. Lately I’ve been hashtagging all my posts #healing. And whereas I’ve thought of these statements and labels as simply my way of hoping or just description, well, in the beginning was the word. Seriously. Think of the world you create when you say something is “possible” versus the world you create when you say something is “impossible.” Notice how your thoughts, feelings, emotions, attitude, and actions change depending on which world you decide to inhabit. Crazy, I know. And that’s just one little word. Now, have the words I’ve written these last three years MADE my life change? I could never prove that. But my life has changed, and surely it’s at least partly due to the fact that at some point I started telling myself a different story. A story I wanted to hear. One of healing, forgiveness, self-acceptance, hope, transformation, and transcendence. A story in which I was the hero and there was a happy ending.

And surely anyone can do this.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"I believe we're all courageous, and I believe that no one is alone."

On Having Nothing to Hide (Blog #1093)

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Well shit. The end of this blog is getting real. After tonight, I only have three more posts. Granted, something could happen. I could get sick or die first. But it looks like I’m going to make it. That feels good. At the time time, it’s terrifying. I’ve said it a lot lately, but this blog has been such an anchor for me, the idea of letting go of it feels like cutting all strings. Like I’m about to be drifting at sea. And whereas that’s exciting–I’m free, I can go where the wind blows–it’s like, gosh, I hope I learned how to sail.

I guess that’s it. I’ve gotten into a certain rhythm with this blog, there’s a predictability, a stability in the routine. Granted, it’s not always what I want to be doing, especially when I’m worn out and don’t feel like writing, or when no one pats me on the back for it (I’m big on words of affirmation), but there’s always a comfort, a safety in knowing “I wrote today.” But starting on Tuesday of next week, I won’t have that. Even if I continue writing regularly, I won’t have it in such a public, real-time way. That’s what they say about writing. It’s like telling a joke and having to wait three years to find out if it’s funny. Especially if you’re writing a book, you don’t get that immediate response.

Response is something that’s been on my mind lately. Because although a respectable number of people read my blog every day, Ellen Degeneres still gets more likes when she posts a single picture of a cat than I’ve ever gotten from all my posts combined. Ugh. This is one of the challenges to doing something creative. You can’t compare yourself to others. Well, you can, but it doesn’t do much good. Plus, the truth is that you never know what kind of an impact you’re having on people unless they tell you. And sometimes not even then. The point being that a post that’s read, liked, and taken to heart by one person could do more to change the course of that person’s life for the better than a meme that goes viral.

God works in mysterious way.

One thing I almost never do is plan out my posts. In the beginning I’d think about them all day, looking for that one idea, that one spark. I’d see a mailbox and try to make a life lesson out of it. Eventually all of that went on autopilot. A part of me just knew we needed something to say before the day was over, so it became always on the lookout. Like a radar. But subconsciously. So now it’s to the point where I can almost always sit down, open my laptop, and it–just happens.

All this being said, I have on a number of occasions thought, I really need to talk about THAT before this whole thing is over. Most recently this happened with respect to EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing). Since it’s been a big part of my healing, I just wouldn’t have felt right if I’d left it undiscussed. So this week, despite the fact that my therapist says that by this point I’ve put in my dues and could talk about nothing else but farts if I wanted to, I’ve been thinking, What’s left to say? And whereas I have a rough outline for the next three days (sum up what I’ve learned, address my readers, address myself), the only thing I could come up with for tonight was–discuss the process.

The process being what it’s been like to put out and sort through (most) of my baggage in front of others, to talk about where I struggle and what I’m learning in front of God and everybody. Well, it hasn’t been the worst thing. In fact, it’s one of the best things I’ve ever done. Largely because it’s given me a sense of freedom that I didn’t have before. Not because I feel like I’ve vomited on the internet (sorry about your shoes, but, gosh, do I feel better), but because I feel like I’ve been honest. Like, this is who I am as a person. And when you’re honest and upfront about who you are–warts and all–well, you can walk into anywhere and be comfortable. Because you don’t have to worry about being found out. Because you’ve got nothing to hide. Not that you tell everyone everything, but the charade is finally over.

First on the inside, then on the outside.

I would encourage anyone to do this. Drop the charade. Not that you have to start a blog and spill your guts, since I recognize not everyone is comfortable with the attention that comes with posting on the world wide web. Plus, you don’t have to share your journey with hundreds or thousands in order to to have a successful one. But do share your journey with someone. Because nobody gets through life alone. If they try, they suffer. Lately I’ve really been working on this. Letting others help me, hold me. Taking the weight of the world off my shoulders. Letting the world hold its own weight. Indeed, letting go of this blog is one step in this direction for me. Someone else can write every day. I can turn my attention to other projects.

Or just take a damn nap.

In terms of its reception, this blog has been a good experience for me. Meaning I haven’t caught a lot of flack for it, the way some people do on the internet. Granted, I’ve been told what to wear, what not to wear, what to do in my photos, what to say, and what not to say, but these criticisms have been few and far between. And, I think, largely well-intentioned. Even if they weren’t received as such. Either way, oh well. They haven’t changed me. I regularly get crappy comments on some of my dance videos, and I’m still forever glad they’re out there. (The videos, not the comments.) That I’m out there. When you do something creative, when you share yourself with the world, people are going to have SOMETHING to say about it. Because people ALWAYS have something to say. (It’s what we do.) So this is my encouragement to you–

Let them say whatever the hell they want. Just don’t let them stop you from sharing yourself. Your real self. Because however big, however small, the world needs your voice. Your one unique voice that refuses to hide any longer. (Why, Marcus?) Because when one of us stops hiding, it means we all can.

Finally.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Life proceeds at its own pace.

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On Slowing Down, Changing Worlds, and Seasons (Blog #1092)

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In an interview I listened to yesterday, former head hostage negotiator for the FBI Chris Voss said, “You have to go slow to go fast.” Meaning that in high-stakes or even low-stakes negotiations it pays to pump the brakes, really listen to the other party (rather than simply trying to cram your viewpoint down their throat), and communicate clearly. In dancing we say it like this: take time to do the prep, the setup. Don’t get ahead of the beat. Once I told a couple who was working on a routine for their wedding, “You’re already going too fast now, and I can promise you that you’ll go even faster on your wedding day (because of adrenaline) if you’re not careful.” Well, I was at the wedding, and sure enough they were at least eight eight-counts (sixty-four beats) ahead of the music.

Which means they finished before the song did.

Ugh. Pumping the brakes is such a challenging thing. We live in a fast-food society, and we want what we want when we want it (now). The internet and Amazon Prime haven’t helped things, since they’ve made both information and everything under the sun almost immediately available. Consequently, our natural tendency toward impatience has been encouraged. Perhaps this in one of the silver linings to our current situation with respect to COVID-19. We’re being forced to stay in, slow down (even the internet is dragging because so many people are on it), and wait. For a solution. For our jobs. For toilet paper.

As I’ve thought about the phrase “go slow to go fast” today, I’ve related it to this blog and my personal journey, one of my consistent themes being “slow down, be patient.” Not that I’ve WANTED to slow down, but it’s simply been the only way. To learn all the things I have in therapy, to learn all the things I have through this blog. Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “The years teach much the days never know.” Amen. This is the way of it. You can’t hurry love, you can’t rush the seasons, and you can’t speed up your own personal transformation. Not that you don’t have any say in how long it will take, since God knows you could drag your feet about it or refuse to do your part, but even when you’re doing everything you know to do, metamorphosis is not going to happen overnight.

Alas, slowing down seems to be the best way to “get there.” This is a message of myofascial release too. It’s not push hard and fast, it’s push gently (sink) and slow. It’s wait for at least five minutes. I know, I know. Who has five minutes? But the good news is that if you do go easy and you do wait, restrictions that have been rock hard for years can melt like butter. This is the “go fast” part. Meaning the best way to get quick, lasting results is to slow the hell down.

It’s counterintuitive, I know. But look at nature. The way a tree grows. The way a baby grows. Life doesn’t get in a hurry. And yet we do. Despite the fact that we ARE life. Three years ago I started this writing project wanting to get somewhere. Recognized or whatever. And boy was I in a mental hurry. But having spent every day since slowly but surely putting down hundreds of thousands of words, thoughts, and ideas and having been changed by the process for the better, I’m convinced “steady as she goes” is the only way. What’s more, now that I’m quickly approaching the end, there’s part of me that wishes I hadn’t been in such a rush in the beginning. That I’d savored The Changing more.

Tonight I started working my way through a free online class about storytelling presented by Khan Academy and the creative team at Pixar. It’s magical. Anyway, one thing the Pixar people talk about is the difference between a character’s wants and needs, two things that are often (and probably should be) at odds with each other. For example, in The Wizard of Oz, Dorothy WANTS to get back home to Kansas. But what Dorothy NEEDS is to get in touch with her brains, heart, and courage. In other words, Dorothy doesn’t need to get back home to Kansas, she NEEDS to get back home to herself.

And who doesn’t really?

Thinking about the wants and needs in my life, I know that a few years ago I WANTED to move to Texas and start my career as a writer. Alas, the gods had other plans, since what I NEEDED was to first unlock the talents, sensitivities, and powers inside of me that back then lay dormant. In terms of storytelling, what I’ve undergone the last several years would be called “a character arc,” meaning that THROUGH CONFLICT and by OVERCOMING OBSTACLES, I’ve transformed into a better version of myself. Unfortunately, both in storytelling and in life, it appears conflict and obstacles are NECESSARY COMPONENTS for getting us not where we WANT to be, but where we NEED to be.

This sucks, I know.

Naturally, we WANT this transformation to happen quickly. More often than not, we NEED it to happen slowly. (Why, Marcus?) Because every time you change something about yourself (a thought, a belief, a boundary, a perception), you quite literally change the world you’re living in. Not that you leave earth and end up on a different planet, but in effect you do. Because every time you change you end up playing by a different set rules, and that means your interactions, strategies, and results change. So you might as well be living on Mars. Or in Oz. All this to say that world-changing is jarring, so you need time to adjust and get the lay of the land. Okay, I’m single now. All right, I’m not putting up with that crap anymore. Shit, I’m quarantined.

More and more my message to myself and others is, Sweetheart, be patient. Yes, there are mysteries inside you that desperately want to come out. But mysteries are never called out in a flash or forced out through screaming. (Hurry up and heal!) Rather, mysteries are coaxed out by being snuggled up to, by being deeply heard. Sweetheart, what do you have to reveal to me? I’m listening. And do please take your time. This is why we have time. Not so that we can get an answer to our problems lickety split, but so that we can be grown by both our trials and our triumphs, the way a tree is grown by life’s ever-changing seasons.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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The journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step. And whereas it's just a single step, it's a really important one.

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The Stuff Movies Are Made of (Blog #1076)

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Currently it’s 9:30 in the morning. I know. It’s early. I just did this (blogged) less than twelve hours ago. But I have a full day today. In a few hours, I’m going to see my myofascial release wizard. Then I’m going to see my therapist. Then I’m going to see a show and have dinner with a friend. (Going, going, going.) At some point, I need to take a shower. Yeah, that’d be nice. Not necessary, mind you, but nice. Anyway, so I’m blogging now. Part of me has nothing to say. Part of me has everything to say.

This is the way of it.

With the end of the blog, or at least the end of my blogging daily, quickly approaching (three weeks from today I’ll wake up relieved, terrified, and grateful, and it’ll all be over), lately I’ve been (even more) introspective. Although many days I’ve wanted to throw my laptop into the fires of Mordor, this entire project has been such a good thing for me that I often wonder what I’ll do without out. My Inner Perfectionist wants it to be Right, completed by The Last Day. Since this entire project has, at its core, really been a means for me to come, meet, understand, accept, like, and love myself, this means that my Inner Perfectionist wants me to be Right, completed by The Last Day. He wants me to be whole, healed, happy, and healthy (in every way), um, three weeks from now, and to have said everything I have to say about it.

This, of course, is a ludicrous notion.

That guy.

Twenty minutes ago I walked into our “plants and puzzles” room to take today’s selfie and noticed and reflected upon a puzzle I started, I don’t know, a few months ago, a Van Gogh, something I only work on every so often, when the mood strikes. Anyway, I realized that I was getting close to done. Only a handful of rows on the bottom need to be filled in. One or two more concentrated “putting together” sessions, and that’ll be it for that puzzle. It’ll be back in the box or up on the wall, and on to the next mystery. So are the days of our lives. We finish puzzles and projects, books and blogs, but we ourselves are never finished. Until the day we die, we’re a work in progress. On the one hand, there’s nothing to say about it. We are what we are in this moment. On the other hand, there’s everything to say about it. We contain multitudes.

Something I’ve long believed and have experienced lately through EMDR and myofascial release is that our bodies forget nothing. “You may have repressed [ignored] or suppressed [relegated to your unconscious] part of your life, but your body has remembered it all,” my EMDR therapist says. More and more I’m struck by the wonder of this and have started thinking of the individual events and interactions in our lives, especially our dramas and traumas, like play-at-home movies that can’t be fast-forwarded or ejected until they’e completely played out. Meaning that when we repress or suppress a reaction or emotion, we’re not hitting the stop button (there is no stop button). At best, we’re hitting the pause button.

For me, therapy, this blog, EMDR, myofascial release, and a number of other therapies have allowed many of the old movies of my life to finally play out. And be over. This often has involved a cathartic release of emotions (anger, sadness, frustration, disgust, joy), emotions that got (literally) frozen in my cell tissue God knows when. (My body knows when.) Along these lines, myofascial release sometimes refers to this letting go process as “thawing,” especially when the body shakes or tremors.

I used to read about all this stuff, the way our bodies store our emotions and memories in our fascia, and think it sounded real good. Like, isn’t that nice? Alas, having experienced it, I don’t mind saying it’s real gross. Helpful, healing, but gross. All this to say that I wish it weren’t true. Not for me, and not for you. And yet it seems to be the way of it for all of us, the way we were designed to be and function but weren’t told about when we were younger by our families, teachers, preachers, and doctors. (My Inner Conspiracy Theorist added that last part.) Chances are, they didn’t know either.

Yesterday I blogged about how miraculous our bodies are and how more and more I’m learning to trust mine. Caroline Myss says that she doesn’t see so many pounds of flesh when she sees someone’s body. Rather, she sees “an energy system,” a system of power. And whereas as a former medical intuitive Caroline can sense and “just know” where someone is sick or losing power in their body (and why), I can’t. I am, however, really starting to get the concept that, consciously or unconsciously, how each of us organizes our energy system/body in a particular fashion. We put this event on pause. We play that event over and over and over again. We never finish that puzzle. Even though we could.

More and more this is my advice to myself and anyone else: hit the play button on your past and let it finally be over. Unfreeze your body and your life. Finish as many of your puzzles as possible. The inside kind, not the outside kind. Not by running away from yourself, but my running toward yourself. Really, that’s what this blog has given, and what it will continue to give me even after I write The Last Word, a connection to myself and my inner wisdom. It’s given me a knowing that I’ve come equipped with everything I need for this journey. That I don’t have to look out there to find it; it’s all in here. I realize this sounds too good to be true, the stuff movies are made of. And yet it is true, the way of it. You are a wonder.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Sometimes the best you can do is metaphorically sit you ego down, look it square in the eye, and say, “Would you shut the fuck up already?”

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What Goes Down Must Come Up (Blog #1043)

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Last night I worked backstage for the national tour of Finding Neverland until one in the morning, rolling up Marley floor, wrapping up in padded blankets the windows Peter Pan flies, and pushing heavy crates onto semis. And whereas I had a fabulous time (the theater is magic), I could barely think straight when it was all over. Indeed, it was all I could do to get myself home, brush my teeth, and crawl into bed. Thankfully, I had most of today to rest. Alas, despite the fact that I slept until one this afternoon and took a cat nap this evening, I’m still tired. What the hell?

Clearly my body is not a fan of manual labor.

For whatever reason, I’ve spent most the day in a sour mood. Perhaps this is because yesterday was simply marvelous and, according to physics, what goes up must come down. (I’ll explain.) In addition to seeing the “backstage” friends I mentioned in yesterday’s blog, I also saw my “onstage” friend Kirk, who plays Charles Frohman (the man who first produced Peter Pan) and Captain Hook in Finding Neverland. Not only did I get to chat and catch up with Kirk (albeit while he was changing clothes and combing his hair before the show), but I also got to see him perform. From row five, center. Talk about magic. It’s one thing to see a stunning musical, and it’s quite another to see your friend killing it in that musical.

One of my favorite lines last night was when Kirk (as Frohman) said, “I don’t have a child inside me. I have an ulcer.” What adult hasn’t felt this way? We’re encouraged to be lighthearted, to enjoy our lives, but we think, I can’t. I’m too busy. I have bills to pay. I’ll be happy later. My back hurts now. We meet a perpetually joyful person and are automatically suspicious. We actually say, “What are YOU smiling about?” As if smiling weren’t the most natural thing in the world.

Getting back to my sour mood today, I suppose we all experience a certain amount of let down after a glorious time. In the show last night the four young boys who inspired the creation of Peter Pan spent their days playing in the park, and at night the youngest would jump up and down on his bed and say, “I don’t want to go to sleep.” Likewise, as adults we go on vacation, watch a musical, or see an old friend, and think, I don’t want this party to end. And yet end it does. No party lasts for ever. One moment we’re flying high, and the next we’re back on the ground, at home doing the dishes. We think, Well THIS sucks.

Something I often tell people is that I almost always listen to the same instrumental music whenever I write this blog. And whereas the music itself isn’t important, what is important is that I’ve created a ritual around writing. Every night I pour a cup of tea, sit down in my chair, press play, and start typing, my goal being to process the day, figure things out, and walk away feeling better (or at least with more self-acceptance, compassion, and understanding). Well, the ritual works. I can be in the worst mood, turn my instrumental music on, and even without writing a word begin to feel better. Tonight, for instance, I was so frustrated.

But then the music started playing, and I found myself smiling.

It’s weird how we can get loyal to our bad moods. Currently I’m feeling lighter than I have all day, and yet there’s a part of me that wants to recount my grievances. And this hurts, and that hurts, and–worst of all–the party is over. Ugh. What goes up must come down. And yet more and more I believe the reverse is also true. What goes down must come up. That is, no matter how tired you are, at some point you find rest. No matter how sick you are, at some point you find healing (even if this is in death). No matter how ho-hum your mood, at some point you find yourself smiling.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Our struggles unearth our strengths.

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On Miracles (Blog #1016)

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Okay. Where are we going tonight?

For the last 1,000+ days I’ve sat down to blog and had this question somewhere in my mind. Granted, there have been times that I’ve absolutely KNOWN–these are the things I want to say. But even then writing has been the adventure that creativity is, full of twists, turns, and oh-wow moments. Not one single time in the last three years have I not been surprised by what’s inevitably birthed here at this keyboard, be it a clever phrase, a happy joke, or a somber theme. Even when I’m totally blank and thinking, Well, that’s it, I’m all dried up, some idea comes along out of nowhere to save my ass. Even when I’m certain I’m creatively bankrupt, something good magically appears.

Overall, today has been fabulous. Almost everyone, or at least the news anchors, in our area have been concerned with the weather (there have been tornado warnings), but I’ve been concerned with brooches, working on framing a few recent acquisitions. And whereas I got one project done today, I’m still waiting on paint and glue to dry before I can finish two others. Ugh. Everything is always a process. Both in art and in life, it seems that nothing is ever “done.” The good news about this, I suppose, is that not being done leaves room for The Mystery. Until you’ve reached the last page in a book–the last word–the story’s not over.

This evening I had dinner with a friend I’ve known for–gosh–over fifteen years now, one of the first people I came out to. Anyway, they made spaghetti, and we did what we always do–laugh, share stories, console. Then while I was on my way home I thought about how so very often I’m worried about money but how time with an old, true friend is absolutely priceless. How even if I had all the money in the world it wouldn’t have made tonight any better.

Well, it might have paid for some chocolate cake.

But still, I was happy.

We had cookies.

When I got home I helped my dad put a homemade dog bed (fashioned from old bath mats and a comforter) in my parents’ room for our family dog, Ella. My parents have a waterbed, and there’s a crawl-through space, a hiding area underneath the headboard where I guess Ella likes to go to chill out, get away, and rest her paws. Anyway, I positioned her new bed inside the crawl space, and she went right to it. Later I checked and she was still there, totally relaxed, content. This is my point about being happy. We make it complicated, but–really–it takes so little. Currently I’m in a comfortable chair sipping hot tea and listening to the rainfall.

What more do you need?

Now, an hour ago, just before I sat down to blog, I checked my bank account because I need to pay bills tomorrow. And whereas I’m not destitute–y’all–it wasn’t pretty. Hell, it hasn’t been pretty in years, especially since I closed my dance studio and started chasing my dream of being a writer. (My therapist says, “You ARE a writer.” So I correct myself–chasing my dream of being a PAID writer.) Ugh. I have friends that make both positive and sarcastic comments about how NICE it must be to sleep in every day and spend my days reading, writing, and–now–framing brooches. And, y’all, it is. It is NICE. But trying something new and living a non-conventional life always comes at a cost. And whereas it’s not always a financial cost, it often is, at least for a while. I add “at least for a while” because that’s my hope, that–sooner or later–the lean times will fatten up.

Dear God, please make it sooner.

Earlier tonight my mom sent me a glorious and emotional video and testimonial by Steve Harvey. Essentially, years ago Harvey was on his last leg, down to his final $35, when he was offered a stand-up gig in New York. Phew, you might think, but Harvey didn’t live in New York and–newsflash–plane tickets cost more than $35. But then–just like that–two other stand-up gigs came through and Harvey was able to make the New York gig. From there, his career took off. Later Mom and I were talking about it, and she reiterated Harvey’s advice–never give up. Because you’re CERTAIN to not succeed if you quit. But if you keep going, well, anything could happen. God could step in.

“That’s one thing about God,” I told Mom. “He always waits until the last damn minute. He’s so dramatic.”

“He certainly can be,” Mom said.

That’s Mom, ever the diplomat.

Getting back to creativity and writing and the idea that you never know what’s going to appear, I suppose this idea applies to our lives too. That is, just when we least expect it, something good comes along. My therapist says she’s noticed this happens a lot for me. Whenever I’m down and thinking, I am SO SCREWED, the universe saves my ass. Out of nowhere, a check shows up. An idea comes along. Even it’s not a windfall (so far it’s never been a windfall), it’s enough to get me through. Regardless, I’m always left dumbfounded, amazed. Just like I am when I consider any good fortune, including any good friend who comes into my life. I think, I never could have planned this. I’m always so surprised. That’s the thing. You never see miracles coming.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You’re exactly where you need to be.

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you never see miracles coming

On Endings and Beginnings (Blog #979)

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This morning I saw my therapist and, in the midst of going through my list of things to talk about, got derailed. Even though I hadn’t planned on discussing it, I jumped on a tangent about this blog and how it’s coming to a close. (I only have 22 blogs including this one until 1,000, then 13 weeks and 6 days until THE END). “I feel like I’m entering lame-duck territory,” I said. “It’s scary. This project has been such a touchstone and healing force in my life, and I have no idea what’s coming next. I’m flailing.”

My therapist said she understood how intimidating transitions can be, AND that even if I don’t continue to blog here daily, I’ve planted A LOT of seeds. “Any number of other projects could EASILY grow out of what you’ve started,” she said. “For example, a book.” Oh my gosh, y’all, when I think about all the things I could do with what I’ve learned thanks to this blog, my mind absolutely flies. I could go on for days, in any number of formats, about how this discipline has turned my life around and upside down for the better. Recently my mom told me that although all my posts are good (thanks, Mom), they’ve really been “exceptional” lately. “You’re in the groove,” she said. “Your writing is seamless. The blog’s done for you what you wanted it to.” That is to say, it’s given me a successful writing practice. Even more, it’s given me myself.

This, of course, has been worth all the effort, time, and money spent.

I guess I’m afraid that when my last “in a row” blog is posted I’ll somehow lose everything I’ve gained. There’s a certain sadness, a heaviness that’s been stalking me, a grief I often feel when I return home from a fabulous vacation. It says, “Crap, the show is over. What now?” It says, “What if we never feel that way again?” At the same time, there’s a certain high, a sense of pride that says, “Hot damn, we did it. Not matter what happens from this point forward, we did it. Nobody can ever take that away.” Perhaps this mix of emotions is what newlyweds feel when the honeymoon is over and people start asking when in god’s name they’re going to begin popping out children. Everyone’s so focused on what’s going to happen after. It’s so difficult to be right here, right now, to sit with whatever arises–excitement, wonder, despair, confusion–on the first day, on the last day.

In Scent of a Woman, Al Pacino’s character sings, “Did you ever have the feeling that you wanted to go, and still have the feeling that you wanted to stay?” I totally get this “I want to hold on but also want to let go” feeling. Despite my deep affection for this project, as I imagine reaching 1,000 and, at the end of March, 1,095 posts, I picture an enormous weight being lifted off of my shoulders. Y’all, this daily-writing and baring-my-soul-on-the-internet bullshit has been and continues to be my choice, and, as I’ve said ad nauseam, it’s all too often exhausting. As these last three years have played host to the the most challenging health crises I’ve ever face, there have been days when life has simply been “too much” and the last thing I wanted to do was take to the web and be honest. Because it’s always easier to run and hide. This being said, I don’t recommend running and hiding. For one thing, there’s nowhere to go.

For another, you’ve gotta meet yourself sooner or later. After all, you’re with yourself all the time. You’re the one you wake up with, the one who tucks you in at night.

People say it’s the journey, not the destination. As a goal-oriented, results-focused person, I hate this. But it’s true. Since starting this project I’ve often fantasized about having so many readers or–I should be so lucky–a certain amount of monetary compensation for my efforts. (Any would be nice). Still, there are bloggers with millions of readers and authors with millions of dollars who nonetheless feel like they haven’t arrived. But how could they–how could any of us–get “there”? Again, there’s nowhere to go. There’s only “here.”

This afternoon I listened to a fabulous talk by Caroline Myss about Alice in Wonderland, and one of my takeaways was that the point of any hero’s or heroine’s journey is changing your inner world, not your outer one. The mystical and ironic consequence of changing your inner world being that–surprise!–your outer world changes too. It has to. At the very least it will look different than it did before (less scary, more manageable, ever so much more enchanting), and this is the same thing. Perception determines your experience of reality.

Along these lines, since we use words to frame our experiences, Caroline suggests flipping your language script. For example, instead of thinking of my health issues as Problems or Challenges, I could–and often do–think of them as Opportunities (to learn about myself, heal, and connect with others), Adventures (who knows what will happen next!), or Initiations (into the Greater Mysteries of life). I’ve often blogged about Going Down the Rabbit Hole, and this is what I’m talking about. Any Hero’s Journey that’s worth it salt will turn everything in your life upside down, including the way you think and talk about your experiences. This doesn’t happen because the universe is bored and feels like shaking up your life the way a toddler shakes up a snow globe. Rather, it happens because, from your soul’s perspective, your world’s been wrong-side up for a while now and it’s simply time to set things right-side up. This looks and feels like Chaos to you and me, a falling apart, but to the gods–well–it’s a Grace, a putting things back together. Our endings are our beginnings.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Obviously, God's capable of a lot. Just look around."

We All Need Soothing (Blog #967)

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Well crap. All day I’ve been worn the eff out. The last few days I’ve slept more than a bear in hibernation, but I just can’t seem to get my rear in gear. Plus, my hips have been hurting. The weather must be changing. Oh no. Is THIS what it’s like to get older? If so, you can have it. Of course, it beats the alternative (dying). Still, I wonder if it wouldn’t help if I were a SMIDGE less cognizant of my body. That is, as a dancer I’m pretty tuned into every square inch of my physical self, and–I don’t know–maybe I wouldn’t make such a big deal about things getting slightly out of whack if I were one of those less self-aware people who, as my dad says, can’t find their ass with both hands. But just imagine how inconvenient that would be.

Especially when going to the bathroom.

But I digress.

I spent this afternoon doing laundry, first my clothes, then my sheets. That’s right, smart alecks, I’ve now washed my sheets twice this quarter. (Miracles never cease.) Anyway, while the washer and dryer were doing their thing, I started reading a book about the importance of the vagus nerve, the longest nerve (that’s actually two nerves) in your body and the one that’s the most responsible for regulating not only your sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous systems, but also your heart, liver, and lungs. In other words, it’s important. And whereas I haven’t gotten to the part in the book about how to consciously activate your vagus nerve (and thus calm down your body and stimulate healing), I’ve heard before that humming or singing, as well as gentle rocking, help switch your vagus nerve from the “let’s freak out” to the “everything’s gonna be just fine” position. This makes sense to me. Think about how babies respond to humming, singing, and gentle rocking. Well, you and I are no different.

We all need soothing.

This evening I helped a friend update their website. Okay, fine, we technically started over, since their site hasn’t been updated in eight years. And whereas starting over obviously required more work, we had the best time. At least I did. I spent most of my college years engrossed in photography, layout, and design and have spent most of my years since engrossed in writing and communication, so this really was the perfect thing for my friend to ask me to do. I dove right in. That being said, since each website hosting platform is different, much of tonight was a learning curve–how to change font sizes and what not. But hey, I like learning and my friend bought dinner, so Hakuna Matata!

My friend and I worked on their site for–I don’t know–four hours, then I worked on it a few more when I got home. I guess I got hyper-focused on figuring out how to add pictures and link to their social media accounts and couldn’t let it go. (I’m no Elsa.) While I was with my friend I kept futzing around with text alignment–to the left, to the center, to the right. My friend said, “This is why you DON’T want someone who’s OBSESSIVE COMPULSIVE designing your website.” I said, “This is why you DO want someone who’s obsessive compulsive designing your site.” Along these lines, my therapist says there are times when my perfectionism serves me. Because it allows me to attend to ALL THE DETAILS when redecorating a room or redesigning a website or whatever. I just need to be able to turn my perfectionism off so I don’t use it against myself. (Like, my nipples aren’t perfect, and all that.)

JUST ENJOY YOUR NIPPLES, MARCUS.

Now, the fact that I stayed up until two tonight working on my friend’s site when 1) I was already tired and 2) there’s not a deadline–I guess–means I haven’t quite figured out how to turn my perfectionism off. At the same time, it may just mean that I got excited about something, and there’s nothing wrong with that. We creatives (that is, all of us) need to get enthused about new projects now and then. My friend and I tonight were brainstorming ideas and ended up laughing, laughing, laughing. This is huge. Not just having fun, but also bringing LIFE to yourself, to others, and to your work.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There's a wisdom underneath everything that moves us and even the planets at its own infallible pace. We forget that we too are like the planets, part of a larger universe that is always proceeding one step at time, never in the wrong place, everything always right where it belongs.

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On the Best Advice (Blog #915)

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Yikes. Yesterday I started getting a sinus infection, and it went full-blown during the night. I got a sore throat and everything. But what do you do? Life goes on. Even if you don’t. This morning I crawled out of bed at seven, coughed up a bunch of colorful junk, got dressed, and drove my parents to the hospital. My dad’s been needing a pacemaker for a while now, and today was the day. And despite being ten minutes late because of traffic, we made it. More importantly, he made it. The surgery went fine, we’re all home now, and his heart’s beating faster than it was before.

In the waiting room today I began reading The Writer’s Journey: Mythic Structure for Writers by Christopher Vogler. So far, it’s glorious. One thing Vogler points out is that every great hero (or heroine) has a guide or mentor, someone who says, “Look what’s possible.” Joseph Campbell called these helpers magical aid. Dorothy had Glinda the Good Witch, Frodo Baggins had Gandolf the Grey, and Mary Tyler Moore had Lou Grant. I’ve personally been fortunate to have a number of mentors, but I consider my therapist my big-kahuna mentor. More than any other person in my life, she’s given me the guidance I’ve needed to navigate life’s challenges successfully.

Whenever I praise my therapist and thank her for changing my life for the better, she always says, “You did all the heavy lifting.” This is important to understand. Not that I’ve done any heavy lifting, but that even the best therapist can’t fix your problems for you. They can support you, they can offer you wisdom, but you’re ultimately the only one who can do anything about your problems. (Why, Marcus?) Because they’re YOUR problems.

When discussing mentors Vogler says, “The best advice is useless if you don’t take it.” Think about that. The best advice is useless if you don’t take it. Countless times my therapist has told me, “If you want healthy relationships, here’s what you have to do. I’m giving you the playbook. Be honest. Confront. Have tough conversations. Set boundaries.” Talk about fabulous advice. But what’s the saying? It’s easy to say, harder to do. When you walk out of your therapist’s office, this is where the heavy lifting comes in. This is where the rubber meets the road.

When given good advice, one question to ask yourself is, “Am I going to willfully discard this information or actually do something with it?” For me, the answer often comes when I ask myself, How badly do I want to be free? (I’ll explain.) A number of times since starting therapy I’ve been in situations in which someone violated my boundaries. I wrote about a recent situation involving work and compensation for services here. Recently I’ve come to know–deep down–that when my first response to, say, a text message, is anger, I know a boundary has been crossed. This is part of seeing and living clearly. First you have to admit that there’s a problem rather than brushing it off or explaining it away. How do you know something’s a problem? Your emotions will tell you. Anyway, once you know, then you can decide what to do about it.

This is the part about being free. When you know there’s a problem, a violation of some sort, but you purposefully choose to ignore it or brush it under the rug, who’s fault is it when 1) you feel miserable and 2) it happens again and again and again? More and more I’ve started speaking up. Not because it’s fun but because I know what happens when I bite my tongue (see below). Recently I told someone, “If you and I are going to continue to have a professional relationship, I need you to do this.” Now, the person said, “Okay,” and that was that. We’ll see what happens. But my point is that sometimes other people don’t even know they’re crossing a line unless we tell them in plain, simple language discharged of emotion (and blaming and name-calling).

For me, I’ve found that when I don’t speak up when I know there’s a problem, when I bite my tongue, I suffer needlessly. My therapist says, “Biting your tongue hurts.” For me what hurts is that I stew. I imagine all sorts of scenarios in which I yell and scream and call people bitches and assholes (and shitheads and turds). I tell other people, “Can you believe what this person did?” But when I say, “Hey, wait a damn minute, we need to talk,” that’s it. Within a matter of minutes, I feel better, regardless of how things turn out. No drama. No gossip. No pain.

In all my years (decades) of struggling with sinus infections, the only thing that’s reliably helped them is a probiotic called L. sakei, which is most commonly (but not always) found in kimchi or fermented cabbage. Last week when I started to get an infection, I bought a bottle of kimchi, and it knocked it out overnight. For a week I felt great. Now the infection is back with a vengeance. Because that bottle didn’t help yesterday, this afternoon I ended up buying over seven pounds of kimchi–because the probiotic in the kimchi expires after a couple months and the only recently made kimchi was in a huge jar. And whereas I find a six-foot tall white man walking out of an Asian food mart with seven pounds of kimchi tucked under his arm funny, again, it’s the only thing that’s helped.

You do what you gotta do.

This evening I’ve been using the new kimchi, and the jury’s still out as to whether or not it’s gonna work. I’ll know for sure in the morning. Either way, I ordered a fresh batch of only the probiotic (it comes in a powder) just moments ago, and that will be here by the end of the week. And whereas part of me is freaking out because–what if nothing works?–experience has taught me that this does work. Sure, it’s not an exact science–I have to play around to get the right product, and it’s not a one-and-done deal–but it works. The same goes with how you can improve your relationships–communicate, listen, set boundaries, speak up. It’s not an exact science. You have to keep working at it. But the advice works–if you take it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Healing requires letting go of that thing you can’t let go of.

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Enough (Blog #867)

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Yesterday I blogged about feeling generally irritated and frustrated by my situation in life, and today I talked to my therapist about my feelings. “Let’s just call it like it is,” she said. “You’re fucking pissed.”

“Okay, I’m pissed,” I said.

“That’s all right,” she said. “Be pissed.”

“OKAY, I’M PISSED!” I said.

So now that that’s established.

My therapist asked if I’d ever blogged about just how frustrating it is for me to be 1) living with my parents and 2) trying to “make it” as a writer or a creative. Like, what’s it like to be a starving artist? (Well, you go hungry a lot.) And whereas I told her that I have blogged about these frustrations a number of times, I also said maybe I needed to give it another shot. So here I go.

It’s frustrating as hell. (How’d I do?)

Okay, fine, I’ll dig deeper. Today my therapist said she thought part of me wanted life to wave a magic wand and make my dreams come true. Well, yeah, of course I want that. Who wouldn’t? At the same time, I know it’s not realistic–for each goal a person has, there’s work to be done. For me, it’s not that I’m afraid of the work. It’s that I’m often paralyzed by what step to take next. With a hundred creative ideas in my head, I’m not always sure which one to pursue. Also, I’m scared that whatever I do pick won’t be THE ONE. In short, I’m scared to fail. Of course, as my therapist said, “What do you have to lose?”

“At this point,” I said, “Really nothing.”

My pride, you say?

Honey, I lost that a long time ago.

Getting back to what’s frustrating for me, sure, part of it is that my life doesn’t look like what I want it to right now. However, a good deal of my frustration is due to what I’ve done internally with the facts of me life. That is, I’ve blamed myself for my situation. Like I have this dream and have taken steps toward it, but the steps I’ve taken OBVIOUSLY aren’t enough. So that means I’m not enough. I’m a failure. This is where the frustration really lies, the feeling that I’ve done my best and it–clearly–isn’t sufficient.

This thinking, of course, is recipe for misery. Normally therapy puts me in a good mood, but I spent this afternoon in a pretty significant funk. I did a lot of–what’s the word?–wallowing. Not that I donned sackcloth or anything. I actually donned painting clothes and continued painting the room I started yesterday. I listened to several podcasts. In short, I was productive. At the same time, however, I gave myself a good deal of grief. For not having my act together. For not being “a success.”

Thankfully, this evening while I was taking a shower, the weight of the world fell off my shoulders. I remembered that my therapist said that as many as one-in-four people (Google says one-in-five) live in multi-generational households. “There are a lot of people like you,” she said. Then I started thinking about some steps I could take to reach my goals–and actually got excited about them. My therapist said, “Do you ever talk about how irritating writing is?” I said, “It’s not writing itself that’s irritating. It’s that it’s not paying the bills.” This is the thing about creative projects. Inherently, there’s joy in thinking about them, doing them. But you can suck the joy right out of them when you put pressure on those projects to put food on the table.

In the moments when I’m most clear, I’m proud of myself for listening to my soul several years ago, closing my dance studio, and beginning to work on a new life. I’m proud of this blog, regardless of who does or doesn’t read it, regardless of whether or not it ever makes me a dime. I get hung up on success as the world sees it, but the truth is I already consider myself a success when it comes to what really matters to me–what’s on the inside, not what’s on the outside. Do I want the outside to follow the inside? Sure. It would make a lot of things easier. But until that happens, I’m working on being okay right here, right now–irritated, frustrated, pissed off, or joyful. I’m enough.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Not knowing what's going to happen next is part of the adventure."