On Pandora’s Piggy Bank of Emotions and COVID-19 (Blog #1077)

A couple things that have been on my mind today:

1. Shoved-down emotions

Last night a friend and I discussed the human tendency to shove down emotions, this after my blog post yesterday about how we so often keep our dramas and traumas unresolved by hitting the pause button on them instead of letting them play out by fully feeling and learning from them. I always think of my shoved-down emotions as being in a jar (an emotions jar), but that makes it sound like, you know, whenever you want you can take the jar down off the shelf and–to put it bluntly–deal with your shit. I told my friend, “I don’t mean to make it sound that simple.” It’s not. Well, my friend said they picture their shoved-down emotions as coins that have been dropped into a locked piggy bank. The problem? We don’t always know what key opens the bank.

Personally and fortunately, I’ve had some success lately with “opening the bank.” Through traditional talk therapy and this blog, of course, but especially through EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) and myofascial release. Still, although EMDR allows you to choose a topic or emotion that you want processed, both therapies are nonetheless a crap shoot. That is, I have little control over what ultimately happens each session. Or, better said, what emotions come up. Sometimes I cry, sometimes I laugh, sometimes I get angry. In this sense, playing around with these therapies (or any healing strategy that gets results) is a bit like opening Pandora’s Box, or, in keeping with my friend’s way of seeing things, Pandora’s Piggy Bank of Emotions. Like, once you find a key that unlocks what you once locked up, good. Use that sucker. But look out. Because you don’t get to decide what comes flying out or in what order.

In my experience reliving past emotions (through therapy, writing, body work, and EMDR), there’s ALWAYS a discomfort (the emotion and often its accompanying story or message that’s been ignored or put on hold) followed by a comfort (a relief, a re-cognition of thoughts and beliefs, or a recognition that it’s over or of a lesson learned). This is the good news. Buried emotions that are resurrected never do us permanent harm. Rather, they rise again as our teachers. They come bearing gifts. What’s more, once they are felt and fully experienced, they return to our system and become a source of vitality. Think of your shoved down emotions like the characters in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe that are turned into statues by the White Witch. They’re literally frozen in time. But they’re also reading, willing, and able to come back to life, to help you and others, if you can simply break the spell they’re under.

I told my friend that I think a huge part of the “unfreezing your emotions” picture is to simply be willing, to let your body know that, whenever it’s ready, you’re willing to hear what it has to say. Of course, this involves being willing to feel all kinds of terrible and wonderful emotions, and, chances are, investing in some Kleenex. Also, it involves a willingness to be wrong. Because, guaranteed, what your body thinks and what you think (or would like to think) are two different things, and when you open Pandora’s Piggy Bank of Emotions, your body is going to have the last say. This is ultimately a good thing, but you gotta be ready to have your world turned upside down. Because as soon as you FEEL different, you WILL think, believe, act, and interact different. In short, everything in your life will LOOK different.

This, of course, is scary as shit and probably why most of us do our best to keep the lid on.

Still, I recommend being willing to change, being willing to heal.

2. COVID-19

Tonight I went grocery shopping for my parents. And whereas I found everything on their list, I had to look long and hard to find toilet paper, which we actually needed. Ugh. This virus is becoming A THING, a problem. Tonight I learned that, in addition to international travel being severely restricted by the federal government, several major large gatherings (dances, meetings, etc.) are being postponed or canceled voluntarily by their organizers. Part of me is taking all of this in stride. Part of me is freaking out. (I’m never leaving the house again. Except to buy toilet paper.) It’s a fine line.

Tying this conversation to the previous one, I will say that the more I deal with and process my childhood and adolescent dramas and traumas, the less REACTIVE I am to, well, anything. Like, I’m not scared as easily. I don’t sweat as much (metaphorically speaking). Free of my past crap, I can think more clearly and be RESPONSIVE. This applies not only to COVID-19, but to everything. Last night my friend and I saw a play and stood by the stage door afterwards so they could get autographs from a few of the cast. Years ago I would have been trembling, shaking in my boots, intimidated. Last night I was like, I’m standing outside on a warm night. Oh look, there are some lovely and talented people. Just like me.

Along these lines, my main and foremost thought about COVID-19 is that I think one of the reasons people are going nuts is because the virus is demonstrating a fact that we all know deep down, and may even say out loud, but certainly don’t act like is true. What fact? The fact that we are all not only connected to each other, but also dependent upon each other. Why do we freak out when one person hundreds of miles away has the virus? Because, for one thing, what if THAT PERSON works in a toilet paper factory! For another, we intuitively know that a virus can spread just like that. Because we are all inextricably woven together like a spider’s web, and what affects one of us affects the whole.

We get this when it comes to COVID-19. Alas, we forget that our individual thoughts, emotions, and beliefs affect our WHOLE body. And not only our whole body, but the world’s whole body. We think it’s not a big deal to carry around ancient baggage or false perceptions, and yet we all know entire families that are made miserable by one person who refuses to deal with their shit. We all know communities and nations that have been paralyzed by gossip–gossip!–that’s traveled faster than a virus. Now, I don’t like this any more than you do, the fact that we’re all connected. Because it means that what you do or don’t do affects me. Because it means that people I don’t like are not only influencing the world I live in but are, in fact, necessary to it.

John Donne said, “No man is an Island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the Continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friends or of thine own were; any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee.” These are the facts. No thought, emotion, belief, or person is unimportant.

So let’s start acting like it.

And, of course, washing our hands.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Our struggles unearth our strengths.

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The Stuff Movies Are Made of (Blog #1076)

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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Nothing physical was ever meant to stay the same.

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Your Body Is on Your Side (Blog #1075)

After four days of feeling like rough stuff, sneezing and hacking like all get out, this morning I woke up better. Not completely full of energy, but more energized. I haven’t sneezed all day. Let’s hear it for my miraculous body and its willingness to rise to the occasion (hip, hip, hooray!). This being said, my lower back has got me groaning like a bayou frog, and my hips feel like a door on rusty hinges. Either I spent too much time in bed this weekend, or my body is rebelling against the anesthesia I had for my EDG three days ago. I mean, that stuff knocks you out for a reason.

It ain’t no shit.

This afternoon I saw my upper cervical doctor, and he said I looked south of fabulous. Still, he decided to “push me” (that is, not give me an adjustment), in hopes that my body and nervous system will kick in and do their thing. Like, Oh, yeah, that’s supposed to be our job. So sorry we forgot! Thanks for the reminder.

My grandmother used to do this thing at holidays. She’d slave away in the kitchen for hours making a stupendous meal (which was free for us, her family, to eat, by the way), and when we’d compliment her, instead of saying, “Thank you,” like you’re supposed to, she’d come back with, “Well the broccoli casserole is undercooked because I got a new stove this year” or “The potatoes would have been warmer if you’d been here on time.” (That’s called being passive aggressive.) My point being that, for whatever reason, she simply couldn’t be satisfied. And I get it. As a recovering perfectionist, I really get it. My body just kicked a cold’s butt, and I’m like, my hip hurts. But more and more I’m purposing to focus on what IS working rather than what ISN’T.

Along these lines, I’m more convinced than ever that my body is on my side. I’m more convinced than ever that it’s trying and doing the best it can. Steve Goodier said, “You have a great body. It is an intricate piece of technology and a sophisticated super-computer. It runs on peanuts and even regenerates itself. Your relationship with your body is one of the most important relationships you’ll ever have. And since repairs are expensive and spare parts are hard to come by, it pays to make that relationship good.” To me this means that it’s incumbent upon me to do everything I can to support my body in its efforts to heal. By taking pressure out of the system (by letting go of tension and old emotions), by drinking water, by listening to what it has to tell me.

In terms of listening to what my body has to tell me, there are times I’m absolutely blown away by the messages it sends me. Day in and day out my intuition speaks to me about my relationships (dump them, call them), professional matters (create this, read that), and health matters (eat this, don’t eat that). And lightening fast. More and more I’m sure that one’s personal growth and even their spiritual growth center around this lifelong challenge–learning how to hear, trust, and act upon your own inner guidance. Even if no one else approves or understands. Even if you can’t say why.

Especially if you can’t say why.

For me the phrase that comes up when I get inner guidance is “I just know.” Like, I just knew my therapist was the right one for me, just like I knew Momentum was the right name for my former dance studio. Earlier tonight there was a singer on The Voice (Jon Mullins), and within three seconds of hearing him introduced, before he’d even sung a note, I just knew he was going to be good. I could feel it all over my body. And, y’all, he was awesome. He absolutely killed it. What’s more, and maybe this is why I got that feeling (and it doesn’t matter, I don’t have to know WHY), his song, “Don’t Give Up on Me” by Andy Grammar, was the perfect reminder.

I’ll explain.

First imagine that YOU are singing these words to your body. “I will fight. Yes, I will fight for you. We’ll make it to the other side.” Then imagine that YOUR BODY is singing these words to you. “I’m not giving up, I’m not giving up, no not me. I’m not going down that easily.” This, I believe, is really the relationship we should have with our magnificent bodies, a relationship in which we realize that we’re on the same page, that we want the best for ourselves, a relationship in which we fight for each other. For ourselves. More and more my advice to myself or anyone else is: trust yourself and the body you’ve been given for your journey. You’re both wise beyond measure, capable of far more than you ever imagined. So hang in there. And bet on yourself. Give yourself a chance. Don’t give up on you.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Aren’t you perfect just the way you are?

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Knowing (Blog #1074)

Currently it’s 10:39 at night, and I’m uncomfortable in my body. For the last few days I’ve been fighting either a sinus infection or just a good old fashioned cold, and it’s left me feeling ever so slightly achy. Like I’ve been run over by a car. Not a big car, mind you. More like a Power Wheels. You know, the kind toddlers drive. But still, definitely a big Power Wheels. Like a truck, not a sedan. A Power Wheels truck driven by a very large toddler who’s actually the size and weight of a teenager. In other words, my back hurts. Probably from lying in bed too much. Plus, my right eye’s been twitching, and my right elbow’s been itching. “And you’ve been bitching,” my dad added when I told him all this earlier.

Everyone’s a comedian.

All this being said, and thankfully, I’m feeling better than I was yesterday. I’ve had more energy today, less congestion. I haven’t sneezed as much. This evening, for the first time in almost a week, I took a shower. That helped. Granted, fifteen minutes later I blew snot into the inside of my clean tank top, but whatever. My hair is clean.

That’s really something.

Yesterday I mentioned a book I started reading a couple days ago, What’s in Your Web? Stories of Fascial Freedom by Phil Tavolacci. This evening I read more of it, and a quote that stood out was, “What if it were easy?” Like, we make healing out to be this huge thing, almost impossible, but what if it weren’t? Personally I know that I’ve tried for years to get certain parts of my body to relax with little success until recently. Now, thanks to myofascial release, seemingly solid structures within me have begun to melt like butter. Not that my successes have been overnight or “one and done”–healing is always a process–but my strides have been much simpler than I previously imagined.

Likewise, I’ve made a lot of progress through upper cervical care and EMDR (eye movement desensitization and reprocessing). And whereas there is work involved–I have to drive to my respective doctors and pay them–the actual methods and techniques used are simple. Emotional at times, sure, especially with EMDR, but anything but complicated. What’s more, they’re working faster than years of traditional chiropractic or talk therapy.

What if it were easy?

Last night I had a series of dreams in which I was working closely or intimately involved with a couple recurring characters I normally avoid (in my dreams). To me this means that I’m changing on a conscious and subconscious level and that I’m accepting and integrating previous “cast off” parts of myself. In other words, both my historic and recent efforts are paying off. This is one benefit to keeping a dream journal, even if you only occasionally write down “the biggies” or note certain themes–you can see how you’re evolving over time.

Alas, had I not been paying attention to the fact that I used to run from certain people in my dreams, I may not have realized the significance of the fact that I’m now embracing them. Likewise, I’m glad I have this blog, which, among other things, is a written record of the majority of my inner and outer struggles. Because so often when I’m in the throws of something difficult it’s easy to imagine that I haven’t made any progress at all. And yet looking back I can see that I have. This is everything, knowing that you’re growing as a person. Knowing that you’re not only capable of healing, but that you are healing. Even if, in the moment, you can’t stop sneezing.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Sometimes you have to go back before you can go forward.

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Messy (Blog #1073)

This morning and afternoon I was supposed to attend a writing class I signed up and paid for last week. Alas, sick with the crud and feeling like a bag of ass, last night I emailed the organizer and said I wouldn’t make it. So I’ve spent the day in bed, sneezing and reading and saying, “God help me” over and over and over again. Now it’ 9:30 at night, and I’m propped up in the living room in order to blog, sipping tea, the inside of my shirt covered in snot. God help me.

One of the books I’ve been reading today (I’m always working on more than one at a time) is called What’s in Your Web? Stories of Fascial Freedom by Phil Tavolacci. It’s about myofascial release (MFR), as taught by John F. Barnes, which I’ve been receiving recently from my myofascial release wizard (MFRW) and is changing my body and my life for the better. Specifically, the book is about how our fascia or connective tissue literally forms a web inside us that not only holds our bodies in space but also holds our mental and emotional memories. For anyone interested in the topic, I highly recommend it.

Maybe it’s just because I’m not feeling well, but something the book mentions that resonated with me is what’s called a Healing Crisis. Basically, it’s the idea that whenever you truly begin to heal, things are going to get worse before they get better. (This sucks, I know.) Why? Because you’ve poked the bear, disturbed ancient junk. Think of the way a dirty casserole dish initially gets dirtier and murkier when you first start running water into it. Ultimately the water is cleansing, but first it’s disturbing. So like, hang in there, Sweetheart, it just takes time.

Along these lines, apparently John F. Barnes says, “Healing is messy.” Amen. In my experience, it’s anything but a straight line, more like what happens when you poke a hole in a helium balloon and it goes flying every which way. One minute you’re up, the next minute you’re upside down. Or flat on your back. You think, This sucks. I’m getting nowhere. Even if you are. Even if you can’t see it.

Something I’ve been thinking about lately is how, if we’re really on our path, we’re led to where we need to go, to whom we need to meet. Used to I’d read books about people who had healed and think I had to do what they did, just the way they did. Alas, this always ended in frustration, since it’s impossible to take the exact healing route someone else has taken. Not only because working with their particular doctor or therapist, or eating their specific diet, would be unreasonable in terms of logistics and money, but also because what works for one person almost never works the exact same way for someone else. Because no two people have the same history or set of problems. Consequently, no two prescriptions for wellness can be the same.

More and more I’m learning to trust my path for me. I’m learning to trust that the professionals I’ve been led to and the books and information that fascinate me hold an important piece of my healing puzzle. Maybe not someone else’s healing puzzle–maybe, but maybe not–but my healing puzzle. Again, this whole process is messy. (Achoo!) It never happens as fast as you want it to. (Boo.) But it does happen. Over time, that which has been broken is put back together. That which has been shattered is mended.

God help us.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Along the way you’ll find yourself, and that’s the main thing, the only thing there really is to find.

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Don’t Suffer Needlessly (Blog #1072)

Currently it’s 10 in the evening, and I feel like a Bradford Pear tree is blooming inside my sinuses. I’m congested and can’t stop sneezing. I’m trying–trying–to not make this a national emergency. Yesterday I saw my ENT, and he reminded me that people–mere mortals like myself–get sick, get sick with sinus infections that typically last one or two months. “Whenever you get a sinus infection, the cilia inside your nasal cavities STOPS moving for six weeks minimum,” he said. Which means the mucus inside your head (or my head as the case may be) is tougher to move OUT.

Geez. Fine time for those little guys to go on strike.

The good news is that my ENT said he’s been having “really good results” with a specially compounded antibiotic/steroid mix that can be added to one’s nasal rinse. “Nose sprays only reach so far into your sinus cavities,” he said, “so nasal rinses are better.” And whereas I don’t love the idea of using antibiotics and steroids, I like that they wouldn’t be directly affecting my gut or overall body. Just my sinuses. Plus, I’ve given alternative treatments a good go (God knows I have), but, despite some spectacular results, they aren’t consistently cutting the mustard. So I’m willing to try something new.

My body continues to be a laboratory.

Along the lines of making efforts to heal, this morning I had an EDG (esophagogastroduodenoscopy) to scope out (get it?) the root cause of my acid reflux. Y’all, I don’t mind saying I totally enjoyed the drugs the anesthesiologist used to knock me out. Best sleep I’ve had all year. Alas, they said I couldn’t take any home with me. They also said I had a “small” hiatal hernia, basically an open door in my intestinal system that’s allowing certain fluids to sneak out and roam around where they shouldn’t be (in my throat).

At one time I would have been bothered by this information. Like, I’m falling apart. But more and more I’m convinced that my body can heal, or at the very least handle, all sorts of challenges. Plus, I know I’m getting good help. In a couple weeks, after the doctor gets some biopsy results back (“just to make sure there aren’t other contributing factors”), I’ll meet with him and get a game plan. After over a year and a half of NOT knowing what’s been causing all my intestinal distress, I’m like, bring it on.

More and more I think the more information I have, the better. This is my approach not only to my physical health, but also to my mental and emotional health (which I’m separating less and less from my physical health these days). My therapist says my dedication to understanding myself is “remarkable,” but–I don’t know–I’m just determined to unearth what makes me tick, what makes us all tick. And although I don’t claim to have all the answers, I’m convinced that if we’re overwhelmed by emotions, limiting beliefs, dysfunctional relationships (bad boundaries), and even health concerns, there’s a reason. Even science promotes this idea, solidly linking childhood trauma to heart disease and a number of other physical problems. Google the Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs) quiz.

As Caroline Myss says, “Your biography becomes your biology.”

For me, it’s natural to dig into my interior, although I know many people run from theirs. I mean, this journey isn’t for everyone. At the same time, you’re the one you live with day-in and day-out your entire life, so wouldn’t it behoove you to “know thyself,” like thyself, and even love thyself? Maybe that’s part of the reason we attempt to run from ourselves. (Which is, of course, a ridiculous and impossible notion.) We’re afraid of what we’ll find. But in my experience, even our scariest memories, emotions, and pains, when met with gentle compassion and curiosity, have something good to teach us. And leave us better on the other side.

Once a friend encouraged me to “sum up” what I’ve learned from my therapeutic and blogging journey. And whereas I get where they were coming from, it’s not really my style. For one thing, although I know bulleted lists are convenient, I personally almost always scan through them and think, I already know all that. Additionally, from the beginning I’ve said that I know my blogs are long and don’t have subheadings. Fine. This is on purpose. My invitation has been and continues to be–slow down, read a story, see if you can glean something from it.

Because some things, like yourself, are worth slowing down for. Are worth really thinking about.

Recently my therapist said that it’s never made sense to her that “someone will spend $80,000 on a car or botox” but not spend a fraction of that money on understanding themselves, on paying a professional for insights into their thoughts, behaviors, and relationships. Amen. So if I WERE to make a list, it would certainly include–seek help, get your ass in therapy (or do something useful that resonates with you), and don’t stop searching until you have some damn answers. Until you find something that works. In other words, don’t suffer needlessly. Not with your outsides. Not with your insides.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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Are You Going to Hold on to That? (Blog #1071)

After go, go, going for the last two days, this morning I woke up with a(nother) sinus infection. I can’t tell you how frustrated I get whenever this happens. (Although I know I do on a regular basis.) In addition to all the mucus, it just feels like I’m try, try, trying and getting nowhere.

No damn where.

This being said, after I got up and got myself together, I had an appointment with my myofascial release wizard (MFRW), and it was amazing. Which means I cried a lot. Seriously, there were so many tears, in addition to shaking, moaning, fist pounding, and foot stomping, all of which my MFRW says are normal reactions or responses to trauma that get can stuck in our body, in our fascia. Today as she was working on my right side, which has felt cinched up and scrunched down for over a decade, I absolutely fell apart, at the same time recalling a very specific and ancient stressful event from my childhood. And whereas it was momentarily uncomfortable, the release felt good.

Feeling like good things were happening, I asked my MFRW if she had any tricks for sinus issues. Thankfully, she said she did, and she began to slowly apply pressure across my face, stretching the fascia underneath my skin. Again, I got emotional. Then, when she held eucalyptus oil under my nose, I once again fell apart. (Later she said she didn’t think it was the scent that caused my reaction, but I’m open to the idea that, under the right circumstances, subtle energies can move mountains.) This release went on for a while and brought up memories of how hard I’ve tried over the years to, well, do just about everything–heal, be successful, stay in the closet. Once when my breathing changed and I started to stifle my body’s tears, my MFRW said, “Are you going to hold on to that, or are you ready to let it go?”

I’ve been thinking about this a lot today. This afternoon I spoke to my therapist, whom I’ve been having a lot of life-coaching type sessions with lately. This means we’ve been discussing career-oriented things and money, which is historically not my favorite topic. Well, today when the topic came up I realized that a lot of other topics came up with it. Sort of like how you mean to pick up one paperclip from a cup and end up picking up a number of them because they’ve gotten stuck together. Specifically, today’s conversation about my future career brought up my beliefs that 1) I work really hard and get nowhere, 2) life works for everyone else but not for me, and 3) I’m not worthy of success.

Now, from a logical standpoint, I know that none of these statements are true. And yet deep down I still have a reaction to them. This is is why I believe it’s one thing to get something in your head and another thing to get something in your body. For three years I’ve talked the internet’s ear off about my life’s dramas and traumas, and yet my body still had more to say about them today. Likewise with my issues around money and worthiness. More and more I believe this is the case for all of us. That our bodies have the final word.

Whether we like it or not.

I say whether we like it or not because I don’t LOVE falling apart in the arms of a total stranger. Nor do I like the fact that I have all these triggers around money. I’d much rather take a Tylenol for my aches and pains, act like everything is fine, and move on with my life. Alas, my body has clearly been crying out for help for decades and is no longer satisfied with the Tylenol or the “I’m fine” approach. If it ever was. Not that I didn’t take a Tylenol this evening to help with my headache (which I have in addition to my current sinus problems). You do what you’ve got to do. But more and more I’m convinced that because I’ve been shoving emotions down and been putting Bandaids on for years–albeit doing the best I knew how–it’s simply time to learn another way.

This is going to take some time, of course. And whereas I’m trying to be patient, it’s difficult. I want to feel better NOW. I want to let go of old beliefs NOW. At the same time, I’m terrified to move forward. Because my old beliefs, emotions, and even aches and pains are, well, familiar. Not that I like them, but I’ve grown accustomed to them. In a very real sense, they are ME. I’m willing to change, but I think, WHO am I going to be on the other side of all this? And, Am I ready?

Am I ready to let go of my old life?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Suddenly the sun breaks through the clouds. A dove appears--the storm is over.

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Willing (Blog #1070)

This morning I worked backstage for the national tour of Trolls Live! This isn’t as sexy as it may sound. My first official duty when I got to work? Sweep and mop the stage. Which, by the way, was covered in glitter, which one of the characters (Guy Diamond) farts out his butt. (Sheesh. Fart glitter. Toddler humor.) Anyway, just as I was really getting into the mopping part, a screw came out of my mop handle, and the head fell off. (I hate it when my head falls off.) So I picked up the screw, threw it away, took the mop out to my car, and repaired everything with a spare bolt and nut I found in my toolbox.

Well.

By the time I got back to the stage to finish mopping, a curtain (the main) had been lowered onto the stage. No problem, I thought, I’ll just mop behind it. But first I decided to look in front of the curtain, which is where the mop broke, just incase there was another screw or piece that had fallen out. Someone could step on it, I thought. Alas, one of the crew was behind the curtain, and when they noticed that someone in front of the curtain (me) was ruffling it, they sort-of started freaking out and (albeit gently) reprimanding that person (me again). “Don’t touch the curtain,” they said. “The doors are open. People are coming in.”

Of course, they didn’t know WHY I was touching the curtain. How could they? They didn’t ask for an explanation, and, being on the other side of the curtain and not realizing until “too late” that they were even talking to me, I didn’t offer one. This is an example of the idea that we all live in different worlds. I was living in the “I need to move the curtain to keep someone from getting hurt” world, and they were living in the “that curtain’s delicate and expensive, and the show’s about to start” world. And whereas there was a time I would have thought that their world was right and my world was wrong or vice versa, more and more I don’t see anyone else’s world as better or worse, morally superior or inferior, than mine.

Just different.

This being said, a part of me was still upset by the interaction. My Inner People Pleaser has been “online” for so long that it’s never fun (like, how exciting!) for me to be corrected. Plus, apparently my personality has been intentionally designed to be largely independent and function via an inner mantra that sounds like, “Don’t tell me what to do.” I accept this about myself. Not just because it resonates as true for me, but also because I’m tired of trying to change it. Not that I can’t improve or that I’m always right, but I am who I am. Accordingly, who and what I am IS right–for me.

Getting back to accepting myself in the above situation, years ago I would have fretted for hours, if not days, about what happened, thinking both that I had done something wrong and that–oh no!–someone didn’t like me. After almost six years of therapy, almost three years of daily writing and introspection, and just over a month of EMDR treatments, I’m happy to report that I got over it pretty quickly. My point being that you don’t have to be a slave to your emotional reactions forever. Your inner demons can be tamed and quieted. This being said, I truly believe that our emotional reactions only downshift once they’ve been given permission to speak and once we hear them.

Once we hear ourselves.

In Trolls Live! it’s said that one of the characters won (I think) the fuzziest hair contest in 2016, 2017, and 2019. “What happened in 2018?” one of the other characters says. The answer?

“We don’t talk about 2018.”

Alas, this is how most of us handle the distressing emotions and situations in our lives. We shove them down. Ignore them. Bury them. Cover them up. We don’t talk about IT, whatever IT is. And whereas I understand and am completely and utterly familiar with these strategies, they simply haven’t worked as a permanent and healing solution for me. What has worked? Talking about, feeling, and accepting every scary and uncomfortable whatever. Listening to and learning from my body, feelings, and emotions, however unpleasant or gross that process may be. Looking at IT. Mr. Rogers encouraged, “Feelings are mentionable AND manageable.” When you’re stuck in embarrassment or shame (I did something wrong), it can feel like you’re going to fall apart, to implode. But I can absolutely promise you that regardless of what you’ve buried inside you, you’ve been given an inherent wisdom that knows how to handle its resurrection and transformation.

Several minutes after the “you’re on the wrong side of the curtain” incident, I got excited about the fact that I was having a very ancient emotional reaction. Why? Because it let me know there was a part of me that needed to be heard, that I imagine has been wanting to express itself for quite a long time. That’s been wanting to take the stage and be my teacher. Along these lines, ore and more I’m grateful when someone pushes my buttons. Because they show me where my buttons are located. They show me the parts of myself I’ve been ignoring. (Thankfully, after all this time and trial-and-error–I now know what to do with this invaluable information.) Likewise, I’m even beginning to find gratitude for the pains in my body. Because they too are crying out for attention. And they make me curious. Like, Sweetheart, what’s going on here? What story do you have to tell me? What have I not been willing to hear until now?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We’re all made of the same stuff.

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On Creation (Blog #1069)

This morning I woke up at 4:30 to work backstage for the national tour of Trolls Live! in Fort Smith. Until 7:45 this evening. And whereas it was fun and absolutely magical, Daddy is worn the eff out. Seriously, I’ve said many times before that I’m not cut out for manual labor, and even the personality test I took recently agreed. You’re not meant for nine to five work, it said. So it’s good that tomorrow is the last day working the production. That’s the deal. Today they set up and did one show, then tomorrow they’ll do two shows, pack up, and hit the road.

And I’ll hit the hay.

Today they asked that we not take or post any pictures from backstage (that’s called a boundary), but, y’all, the sets, props, and costumes were stunning. Giant flowers, fluffy grass, velvet curtains, feather boas galore. And everything in every color. No kidding, it was like a box of crayons exploded. And whereas I spent most the day with my mouth open feeling like I was in the middle a cartoon (hello, childhood memories!), for many of the the cast and crew (who have been on the road with this show since October), it seemed to be just another day at work. Ho-hum. This reminded me that we can be surrounded by beauty and mystery and totally lose touch with it. We can look at a sunrise or a loved one and think, Oh, yeah, that old thing. I guess it’s all right.

I don’t recommend this.

Joseph Campbell says you can draw a circle around anything and say, “What is it?” The idea being that everything–without exception–is a mystery. Sometime try this with your hand. Just hold it out and stare at it, without thinking, It’s a hand or It’s an old, wrinkly hand. Just stare at it and see if you’re not struck with wonder. That it’s alive and that it can move. That it exists.

That you exist.

From what I understand, we lose the wonder of things when we label them. Either as objects or adjectives. That is, as soon as you say, “It’s a hand” or “He’s a jerk,” you move away from The Mystery. Of course, we’re all doing this all the time. We make a million assumptions each and every day about what things are. And yet the truth is–and I know this is mind twister–you only think it’s a hand because someone told you it was. (And what if they were wrong?) You only think he’s a jerk because you told he was. (And what if you were wrong?)

Byron Katie says, “Who created the world? You did.” Now, does this mean the person you see in the mirror every day waved a magic wand and made something appear out of nothing? No. At the same time, yes. What I mean is that when you open your eyes every day, the world is there. The Mystery is there. The one in the mirror doesn’t create that. But the one in the mirror does create your experience of the world. By naming it, by labeling it, whatever you want–good or bad, too hot or too cold, terrifying or peaceful, ho-hum or magical.

I suggest magical.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There is a force, a momentum that dances with all of us, sometimes lifting us up in the air, sometimes bringing us back down in a great mystery of starts and stops.

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Equipped (Blog #1068)

Currently it’s 8:15 PM. Tomorrow I have to get up super-duper early, so I’m hoping to keep this short. Not that I’m convinced I’ll be able to fall asleep by 10 PM, but I’m sure going to try.

By taking Benadryl.

Today I’ve been thinking about money. (I’ll explain.) Yesterday I mentioned that I devoted one of my recent EMDR sessions to money because the topic, and the actual thing, have historically made me squirm. Well, this afternoon I took some change to the bank to convert to cash, and damn if the automated machine in the lobby didn’t stop counting somewhere in the middle of all my change. The whole time still taking my money. “It says your total is $76.23,” the lady behind the counter said when I called her over.

“It really should be closer to $125,” I said, explaining the situation.

Well, the next thing I knew the branch manager got involved and said they’d have to audit the machine. Which they did over the course of–I don’t know–the next hour. “I need to go buy a mower for my parents,” I said. “I’ll be back.”

Then I added, “Before I go, can you break a twenty?”

Of course, they could.

The thing being that I needed two tens, well, one ten to pay for the mower, an item I found on Facebook earlier today as a replacement for my parents’ mower that seriously crapped out last summer. “Will you take five dollars less?” I asked the seller.

“Sure,” he said. And he even helped me load it.

When I got back to the bank, they still weren’t done with the audit. So I waited. Finally, they came up with the total: $123.50.

Before EMDR, both the situation at the bank and the thought of price dickering with the lawn mower seller would have made me twitchy nervous. But in both instances today, I was like, whatever, nobigdeal. At the bank I thought, This is inconvenient, but shit happens and they’re working on it. However it turns out, I’m going to be okay. When trying to bargain over the lawnmower, I just acted on instinct. “Offer five dollars less,” something inside me said. So I did, reasoning, If he says no, I’m willing to walk away. My therapist says this is absolutely necessary when buying and selling, a sense of non-urgency, an air of neutrality. Like, I don’t HAVE to have it. Then you can remain clearheaded and weigh your options.

For so long I was plagued by a feeling of loss and scarcity. Just weeks ago the thought of losing fifty dollars to a bank’s change machine or five dollars in a business deal would have sent the “there’s not enoughs” all over me. More and more I believe, really believe, that, as a former boss used to say, there’s more where that came from. That God and the universe may taketh away at times, but they also giveth in great supply. Over and over and over again. For example, even when I’ve been short on cash, I’ve never missed a meal for any reason other than my choice. Not once in thirty-nine years. And I know millions of people have.

Talk about counting your blessings.

One of my big revelations lately is that I have everything I need. By this I don’t mean that I have all the money in the world or that every physical ache or pain I have is under control. Rather, I mean that I have everything I need inside of me. To think on my feet. To figure things out. To provide for myself. To make it through this world with what I’ve been given. In terms of smarts, instincts, and inner and outer resources. This knowing is huge, that you’ve shown up on this planet with all you require. That you’ve come equipped with the wisdom to live and to survive, that you don’t have to find it in a book somewhere. Not that I’m against books. I’m all for learning. But a book can’t make you comfortable in your own skin or give you peace in your heart. A book can’t give you confidence. Only your Self do that.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Nothing is set in stone here.

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