When Your Body Asks for Help (Blog #667)

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Yesterday I blogged about my not feeling well and wanting to give up. This is my general inclination, to give up, whenever life becomes “too much.” Honestly, I was really hoping I’d get a good night’s rest and wake up fine today. I didn’t. I mean, I slept fine, but I woke up still sick. I really don’t know what’s going on. A sinus thing. It’s always a sinus thing. Whatever it is, I’m not amused. Hell, I’m rarely amused. It takes a lot to amuse me. I’m just–what’s the word?–unamuseable.

Well, now that’s not true, since I just amused myself.

As I said yesterday, my recent sinus junk mostly bothers me not only because my sinuses have been a huge historical problem for me, but also because I have a bunch of other stuff going on right now and am tired of shit going wrong. I’ve had headaches since I was a kid, my stomach’s been upset since last July, my elbow’s had psoriasis for months, another section of my skin’s had a fungal infection for weeks, and I just had knee surgery in December. My point being, even before this sinus crap showed up I was thinking, Enough already! I cry uncle.

Yesterday, the day I woke up congested, I noticed a red spot on my wrist. No itching, no scales, just a red spot. But still, as a self-professed hypochondriac, I freaked out. It’s the psoriasis, I thought. It’s spreading! So yesterday afternoon I upped my water intake and also bought a natural supplement (White Willow Bark) that’s supposed to be good not only for pain relief (from headaches), but also for skin disorders like psoriasis. Having been disappointed by supplements more times that I’ve been pleasantly surprised by them (and, to be clear, I’ve been pleasantly surprised by them a number of times), I started the supplement last night with cautious optimism.

My attitude: I’ll try almost anything once.

At the close of last night’s blog, I said it was time to start eating better. Recently I watched a video posted by a prominent figure in the alternative health and healing community, Charlie Goldsmith, about his father, who has Parkinson’s and showed significant improvement in his ability to sit down, stand up, and walk after just four days of changing his diet. And whereas I don’t know specifically what Charlie’s dad’s diet included or excluded, I’m assuming it included–um–vegetables and excluded the usual suspects–gluten, dairy, soy, sugar, and alcohol. Anyway, this video reminded me that diet is a huge contributing factor when it comes to one’s health, which is why I decided it was time to get serious about what I’m eating.

Therefore, before I went to bed last night, I ate a salad. Then today I had oats for breakfast. And whereas some elimination diets wouldn’t approve of oat-eating (because oats are a grain), I figured it was better than a piece of white bread slathered in peanut butter. (Progress, not perfection.) Then I pulled myself together and went to the grocery store and got everything I needed for at least a week’s worth of clean (mostly Paleo) meals. Y’all, I loaded my cart with fruits, nuts, and vegetables for eating, as well as Zicam, Airborne, and bone broth things for healing. I mean, it’s all for healing. Everything you put into your mouth has an effect.

I hate to admit that, but it’s true.

Granted, I don’t know what’s going to happen to my body. I could very well wake up tomorrow with even more sinus trouble or skin flare-ups. But even after half-ass starting this thing yesterday, that red spot on my wrist is almost completely gone, and–I swear–the psoriasis on my elbow looks better. And whether or not the water I drank yesterday, the salad I ate last night, or the supplement I started had anything to do with it, the improvement reminds me that my body is not only AWARE of what’s going on with it, but also willing to repair its problems when given the proper support. That’s my logic with all these issues that have cropped up lately, that my body is simply asking for help. And whereas I can’t promise that I’ll help it perfectly, I can promise that I’ll do better.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You really do belong here.

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When You Experience a Setback (Blog #666)

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Tonight’s blog is number 666, The Mark of the Beast, and this morning I woke up feeling like The Beast had come to visit me in the night. That is, I woke up with sinus junk, the beginnings of–dare I say it?–a sinus infection. Whatever it is, I’ve felt crummy all day. Not absolutely miserable, but crummy–low energy, overwhelmed. That’s one of the ways I know something is off in my body, even the simplest of tasks seems too difficult to handle. Before breakfast a friend of mine came by to show me how to make kefir (a fermented dairy beverage teeming with probiotics), and when I didn’t have the right sized strainer to separate the grains (which look like cottage cheese and do the actual fermenting) from the liquid that you drink, I just about fell apart.

This afternoon I had physical therapy, which I told myself was the only thing I “had” to do today. And whereas it wasn’t fun, I survived. Then I went to the health food store to pick up and try a natural pain reliever I read about online (I can’t stay off the internet), then to Walmart to get that strainer I needed. At Walmart I also bought a gallon of water, which I’ve been drinking all day in hopes of flushing out any foreign invaders in my body. (Consequently, I’m currently getting up every twenty minutes to pee.) Then I came home, ate a quick lunch, and went back to bed.

The nap, I think, helped. I still don’t feel great, but I do feel better than I did this afternoon. This evening I’ve tried to “eat light, eat right” and take it easy. That is, I drank green tea and practiced knitting. Now I’m obviously blogging, and with any luck I can be done before long, do my physical therapy exercises again, and go back to bed.

With everything else that’s going on with my body (I just had knee surgery and have some skin and stomach issues), I’m really not amused with this sinus junk, especially since I’ve had so much trouble with my sinuses in the past. That being said, I haven’t had a full-blown infection in over a year, so that’s something to celebrate. (Insert throwing of confetti here.) And who knows how this will turn out? It’s not full-blown yet, and I’m trying a home remedy that’s worked a number of times before, so fingers crossed. Still, it’s difficult for me to not awfulize, feel sorry for myself, and imagine the worst.

In times like these, whenever my “this sucks” plate is full, I really want to throw in the towel and stop doing everything that’s good for me. I want to quit working out, quit eating a decent diet, and quit positive thinking because “none of this shit works.” It’s a childish attitude, I realize, but it’s my attitude, and it’s honest. Whenever I get overwhelmed, I want to take all my toys, go home, and eat chocolate cake. I mean, if I’m going to get sick anyway, screw you, Healthy Living.

This isn’t the way to be, of course. Just because you get sick or experience a setback (or half a dozen), doesn’t mean it’s time to give up on good habits. It certainly doesn’t mean it’s time to give up on yourself. Rather, for me, this setback is a reminder to be there for myself, to listen to my body and care for it even more than I have been. Sweetheart, we’ve been through a lot. How can I help you? In an effort to do this, I plan to use the weekend to rest, drink plenty of fluids, and–perhaps, no, definitely–clean up my diet. Because honestly, it could be worse, but it could be a lot better.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We always have more support than we realize.

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Pancakes and a Secret Handshake (Blog #665)

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It’s ten at night, and I have a headache. A few hours ago I took a nap hoping it would go away, but it didn’t. Instead, it got worse. I hate that–and the fact that whenever I don’t feel well I scare the shit out of myself imagining what could be wrong. Once I had a boyfriend who gave me a diagnostic health book that always gave the worst case scenario as the answer to any given problem. Like, oh, your stomach’s upset? It’s cancer. Or, your foot hurts? It’s gangrene. And whereas I thought the gift was cute, I threw it away after we broke up. First, I didn’t need the reminder. Second, no hypochondriac with a headache should ever allow themselves daily access to such a book.

Or the internet.

This afternoon I saw my friend Bekah, who cuts my hair. (I went for a trim.) When we talked about my recent knee surgery, Bekah said that she’s had three–on the same knee–then added, “Welcome to the club of I Can’t Believe This Is My Fucking Life.” Is that great or what? I told her it would be my quote of the day. But seriously, I’m glad to know there’s a club. I’ve always wanted to be in one. With any luck, next I’ll find out we have regularly scheduled pancake breakfasts (in the afternoon, of course) or maybe even a secret handshake.

Pancakes and a secret handshake would be the best!

I don’t know what to blog about today. Getting my hair cut was my “big thing” for the day, other than going to two health food stores in search of non-ultra-pasteurized milk. And whereas the first one said they didn’t have it but could special order it, or I could be one of those people and get raw milk from a local farm (“Their number is on that bulletin board,” the lady said, “but you’ll have to bring my own container”), the second one did. Thank God, after my experience at the first store, I was really starting to worry that I’d have to turn my life upside down to get a half-gallon of non-ultra-pasteurized milk. Instead, I just had to turn my wallet upside down. It cost $6.39!

That’s nearly $13.00 a gallon.

This super expensive magic milk, which as I understand it is simply–milk, is for a fermenting project one of my friends is helping me with tomorrow. We’re going to make our own kefir. Well, we’re going to make my own kefir, since my friend already has theirs. That’s apparently the deal, in order to make your own, you first have to be given a starter kit from someone else who already has one (or buy it on the internet). Anyway, I’ll know more about the whole process tomorrow. Also, if you have no idea what the hell I’m talking about, kefir is a fermented dairy product similar to yogurt except it’s runnier. That is, you can drink it. I’m interested in it because it’s supposed to be high in probiotics, and everyone who’s paranoid about their health is into probiotics. Granted, you can buy it at the grocery store (and I often do), but supposedly making your own is cheaper, even after you pay all that money for milk that obviously comes from cows with golden udders.

Now it’s eleven, and I’d like to end this so I can go to the gym and do physical therapy. Recently I started a stretching routine (that a friend told me about and is on public television) in addition to physical therapy, so I’m spending a good part of my day counting repetitions. Thankfully, as a dance instructor, I have no problem with this. At least until I get to eight. Anyway, I’m doing both the stretching routine and the kefir thing tomorrow because I’m hoping they’ll help me, the stretching with my headaches, the kefir with my stomach. And whereas I’ve been doing the stretching for two whole days (!) and my head still hurts, I’m telling myself that some things take time. (That’s a joke–everything takes time.) But really, so often I want to ditch good habits when I don’t see immediate results rather than stick with them and be patient.

Maybe you’ve felt this way before.

Personally, I’ve felt like giving up more times that I can count. I think, I’ve exhausted every option, and nothing is working. But then–eventually–I remember the universe is large and no, I haven’t exhausted every option. And because there’s something in me that refuses to give up, I take a deep breath and try again. Surely something will work. There’s that verse in the Bible about the person who had their prayer answered simply because they were so damn persistent, because they didn’t quit asking. The squeaky wheel gets God’s grease or whatever. Anyway, maybe you can’t believe this is your fucking life, but I think there’s hope for whatever it is you’re going through, so keep trying. And even if nothing works, I definitely know a club you can join.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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And God knows you don't make everyone else happy. But this is no reason to quit or be discouraged, since doing what you love and feel called to do is never--never--about gaining acceptance from others.

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On Musterbation (Blog #664)

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The above photo was taken by my friend Tom Wilmer during our recent travel writing trip to Fall Creek Falls State Park in the Upper Cumberland region of Tennessee. Apparently the tree in the photo is one of the most photographed trees in America, and if you Google “Buzzard’s Roost tree” you can see even more of it. I’m using the photo tonight–even though all I can think about when I look at it is how not-flat my stomach looks–in order to prove a point, which I’ll get to shortly. Plus, the photo reminds me that I used to have two functioning knees and before long I’ll be back to running around state parks, crawling around mountaintops, and–eeek!–dancing.

This afternoon I went to the chiropractor and got a massage (at the chiropractor’s office). I can’t tell you how grateful I am for these people. So often I insist on suffering, like, I can take care of this problem myself. But whenever I do break down and ask for help, I actually get it. So this is me being thankful for my chiropractor and massage therapist and everyone else who’s helped me this week–my dermatologist, my therapist, my physical therapist, and–oh!–a very nice gentleman at Kinko’s today.

The Kinko’s trip had to do with printing off and signing some paperwork to finally–finally–settle my bodily injury claim with the insurance company of the man who knocked the shit out of me over a year ago and totaled my car. This has been one of the most frustrating ordeals I’ve ever gone through. And whereas I’m not completely happy with the way it’s turning out, I’m not completely dissatisfied either, so I’m moving on. What’s done is done, and now I can think about/worry about/stress about other pressing matters. This has taken eighteen months of my life, and God knows I have plenty of other things on my mental and emotional plate to deal with.

This evening I curled up on my futon with a cup of hot tea and read several chapters in Wayne Dyer’s I Can See Clearly Now, a book that’s reminding me that there are no accidents, everything in one’s life is good and useful (although sometimes it takes years to see this), and the mind is a powerful creator and healer. In one story, Wayne describes seeing a woman (under hypnosis, I think) cause her skin to physically blister when she was touched with a rubber eraser because she believed it was a hot poker. Is that crazy or what? But Wayne’s point was that our beliefs truly can and do affect our realities, so they’re worth examining. In terms of my present health challenges, I’m personally trying to shift my thinking from This will never get better to My body is both willing and able to heal.

In another story, Wayne talks about the work of Albert Ellis, a man who greatly influenced Wayne’s thinking. Ellis, as I understand, was the creator of Rational Emotive Therapy (RET), which came before and has similarities to Cognitive Behavior Therapy (CBT). Both therapies contend that it’s not outside people or events that cause our unhappiness, but rather our thoughts or beliefs about those people or events that cause our unhappiness. According to Ellis, in a video I watched on YouTube, we “disturb” ourselves whenever we think things MUST be a certain way. He says the three big MUSTS are, “I must do well or I’m no good, you–you louse–must treat me well or you’re worthless and deserve to roast in hell, and the world must give me precisely what I want or it’s a horrible, awful place.”

Sticking with today’s events as examples, this theory would contend that it’s not the fact that my stomach isn’t flat that disturbs me, but rather my belief that my stomach must (or should) be any different than it actually is. Likewise, it’s not the fact that my car accident matter dragged on for over a year that stresses me out, but rather my belief that “this shouldn’t have taken so long.” Ellis refers to this kind of thinking–in which we place demands on ourselves, others, and the universe that are in direct opposition to what-is–as musterbation. Is that great or what?

“Masturbation is good and delicious,” he says, “but musterbation is evil and pernicious.”

There are no rules.

With this in mind, I’m trying to lighten up on myself. For example, normally by this time of night (12:23 AM) I’m done with the blog and already at the gym doing physical therapy, so there’s a part of me that thinks, I must finish up. I must go work out. Fuck! I’m behind. Then my mind launches into all sorts of “the world will fall apart” scenarios because I’m not obeying my made-up rules. (No one else is obeying them either, by the way.) But the truth is, there are no rules. Nothing MUST happen other that what IS happening right here, right now.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If you’re making yourself up to get someone else’s approval–stop it–because you can’t manipulate anyone into loving you. People either embrace you for who and what you are–or they don’t.

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The Universe Saves My Ass (Again) (Blog #663)

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Over the holidays I wrote about an incident in which I made a bank deposit and was given credit for one hundred dollars more than I should have been. When I checked into it after I had my knee surgery and could go to the bank in person, I was told to keep it. “Merry Christmas,” the guy said. Also over the holidays, a friend from high school bought a gift certificate for dance lessons. These two surprises, the hundred dollars and the gift certificate money, absolutely saved me when it came time to pay my bills a couple weeks ago. Without either source of income, I would have seriously been up shit creek.

This afternoon I saw my therapist, and we talked about money and how it relates to depression, which we talked about (and I blogged about) a week ago today. First I should reiterate that this time in my life has been quite challenging in a lot of respects, and my knee injury and subsequent surgery have just about pushed me over the edge. Surgery is always big deal, of course, plus the fact that I use my legs to make a living as a dance instructor, and now I can’t dance until this summer. Just last week I turned down a teaching gig because the woman interested needed me to dance with her (because her husband won’t–typical!). My point being that a big part of what causes my worry meter to spin out of control is finances. And sure, some really cool things happened over Christmas, but as I told my therapist, “The universe is really fond of this last-minute shit.”

And I’m not.

Thus, despite the fact that the universe came to my rescue over the holidays, I’ve been worrying ever since. How will I make my next round of payments? Where will the money come from? Of course, I’ve had MY IDEAS. Every time someone calls to inquire about dance lessons, and maybe half a dozen people have contacted me since the first of the year, I think, This is it, God. Now just have them actually take a lesson and PAY ME. Alas, so far God hasn’t taken me up my latest suggestions about how to give me money. I realize this isn’t why God exists, to act as my personal automatic teller machine. Still, we discuss my survival a lot. And hell, this evening at Walmart I did find a penny in the parking lot, so maybe he is listening and I just need to be more specific about HOW MUCH it takes to get by these days. I mean, perhaps God doesn’t keep up with inflation.

I’m sure he’s very busy.

Well, get this shit. Sometime last year–in the spring, maybe–I got a postcard in the mail notifying me that I could be part of a class-action lawsuit, some situation in which the plaintiffs were alleging that the defendants had illegally called them on their cellphones. Or something like that. I honestly don’t remember what the offense was. But I did go ahead and “opt-in” because I thought, Hell, Three dollars and sixty-seven cents is three dollars and sixty-seven cents. Isn’t that how these things turn out–pennies to the plaintiffs? Well, when I opted-in, I found out my chances of a decent return were slightly better than that. As I’d apparently been illegally called about a dozen times (I know it was fewer than twenty for sure), the website for the lawsuit said I could receive anywhere from $20 to $60.

I mean, in my world, that’s dinner and tank of gas.

Okay, so that was it. I sent the postcard in and absolutely forgot about the whole thing. But when I got home from therapy and Walmart today, there was a disbursement check from the lawsuit waiting for me on my bed. (My dad gets the mail and puts it on my bed. Isn’t that cute?.) Three dollars and sixty-seven cents, I’m thinking as I open it. Maybe twenty-five. But no. The check was for three hundred dollars.

Three. Hundred. Dollars.

There’s always hope.

Y’all, I can’t tell you how exciting this was. To celebrate, I ordered pizza for me and my parents. (My dad suggested it.) More than anything, it was a huge relief. At least for the next month, I feel like I can breathe a little easier. I definitely feel lighter than I did this morning. Not just because the universe saved my ass again, but because it reminded me there’s always hope. Seriously, think about it. What are the odds that I’d end up part of some random lawsuit over annoying telemarketing calls placed years ago and that the whole thing would actually resolve and pay out weeks after I had knee surgery when I really need the cash? I’m constantly thinking whoever runs the show up there doesn’t know what they’re doing, but clearly that’s me.

So I’m admitting it. I don’t know EVERYTHING.

Joseph Campbell said, “Follow your bliss, and the universe will open doors for you where there were only walls.” And whereas I’m still staring at a lot of walls in my life, I can say this has been my experience. For the last two years I’ve been living life on my terms–following my bliss–working on this blog, trying to make my dreams of being a full-time writer come true. In a lot of respects, it’s been hell, going against the grain, against what the world deems as normal. Even I often think, Why can’t you just get a real job and be like everybody else? But in other respects, it’s been heaven, following my heart and soul wherever they’ve wanted to lead me. And so far, despite this path being scary as all get out, it’s been okay. More than once, unexpected doors have opened and I’ve been given what Campbell called “magical aid.” Like, today I found a penny! But seriously, even though I’m still astonished when magical aid shows up in my life, I’m beginning to trust that it will always be there. I’m starting to believe that everything–somehow–will be all right.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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I don't think anyone came to this planet in order to get it right the first time. What would be the point?

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Jacob Holding onto the Angel (Blog #662)

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After six weeks of battling a skin rash–a yeast thing–this afternoon I called in the big guns. I went to my dermatologist. Thankfully, after a year of them not taking my insurance, they do now. This means I got to see my favorite skin lady ever, who always listens to my long list of problems attentively and non-judgmentally. (I’m never short on things to worry about it.)

For my rash, my dermatologist wrote me a prescription for an anti-fungal cream, since the powder I’ve been using has been helping but also irritating my skin. (Two steps forward, one step back.) Then she gave me a cream for a spot on my elbow that’s most likely psoriasis. Ugh, I hate that. My grandma had psoriasis all over her body, so I always envision the worst whenever I hear that word. But my dermatologist said, “Don’t freak out. I’d rather someone have psoriasis than acne. We have so many options for it now that we didn’t have ten or twenty years. We’ve got pills, shots, creams, you name it.”

I’ll take one of each.

Otherwise, we took two moles off today–one on my scalp and one underneath my right sideburn. Weird how you can carry something around on your body for years and then it’s all-of-a-sudden gone. I’m telling myself that, likewise, my other issues can clear up in a flash–my upset stomach, my irritated skin. My dermatologist said psoriasis is an inflammation, and I said, “Oh my god, every issue I have is an inflammation. My entire life is an inflammation.” Seriously, that’s what it feels like, like my body’s on high-alert. I think, How can I turn the alarm off? How can I calm the fuck down?

Despite the fact that I got a lot of good help and information today, it’s difficult for my inner hypochondriac to not freak out. You know, because now I have more labels. Psoriasis and Yeast Infection on top of Acid Reflux and Just Had Knee Surgery. It’s hard to not feel like I’m a wagon whose wheels are falling off. It’s also hard to not blame myself. There’s this thought that if I were doing all the right things, eating the right foods, taking the right supplements, and exercising more, that I wouldn’t have these problems. And whereas maybe that’s true, there are countless people who do everything “right” and still get sick and die.

Because people get sick and die.

This evening while my parents watched America’s Got Talent: The Champions, I practiced knitting. Well, just after I got started, I realized I screwed something up. I still don’t know what happened, but I ended up with more stitches in a row than I was supposed to, so I unraveled the whole thing and began again (for the third time this week). This time, I really paid attention and didn’t rush. When the show was over, I was about eight rows in with no mistakes. We’ll see what happens tomorrow, but I figure this is the deal in life. Sometimes you simply have to begin again.

And again and again.

Personally, beginning again exhausts me. Like, I’ve been fighting this yeast rash for six weeks, and now I’m being asked to apply this new cream to it twice a day for a least four more. Four more weeks! That feels like an eternity. But my friend Bonnie pointed out that, shit, I’ll be rehab-ing my knee for six months, so four weeks is nothing by comparison. Plus, I know I’m not really starting over. A lot of progress has already been made. I’m just not at the end of the road yet.

The road. The long road. Tonight on America’s Got Talent there were a number of performers who said they slugged it out for years–even decades–before their big break came along. I guess we’re all looking for a break in some respect–in our careers, in our bodies, in our relationships. We all think, I’m not sure how much longer I can do this. That’s what wears me down, not the fact that I have dry skin on my elbow the size of a quarter, but the fact that it’s one more awful thing that’s shown up and is refusing to leave. One more burden to carry down this long, long road.

In my better moments, those moments when I don’t blame myself for my problems (Byron Katie says, “Do you have to take credit for everything?”), I tell myself that I have no idea why my problems are here. When I was a teenager I would have given anything had my mom been healthy and my dad been out of prison, and yet these two challenging experiences absolutely shaped me into the man I am today–strong, independent, more compassionate than I was before. This afternoon I read more in Wayne Dyer’s I Can See Clearly Now, a book he wrote when he had leukemia, which he ultimately died from. Still, despite his diagnosis, he said he absolutely knew that the disease was in his life to grow him. No self-blame, just acceptance. This is something I’m working on, not pushing away every awful thing in my life, but rather embracing them as my teachers. Not that I don’t want my challenges to go away, but like Jacob holding onto the angel, I don’t want them to go away until they bless me.

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.

"

The Super Blood Wolf Moon Eclipse and My Body (Blog #661)

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It’s 9:53 in the evening, and the total eclipse of the super blood wolf moon (yes, that’s actually a thing) started about twenty minutes ago and will last for the next three hours. I can’t tell you how thrilled I am. Every several minutes I’m wrapping a blanket around my waist like a sarong, walking into our backyard, and checking it out. Thankfully, after weeks of clouds covering up the sun and stars, tonight the sky is clear. Maybe there’s a little haze, but even in the light of the full moon, I can still see The Big Dipper, Cassiopeia, Orion, and Canis Major (among others). And then there’s the eclipse. Eeek. This is more exciting than football.

For me at least.

Here’s a picture of the full moon a couple hours before the eclipse started.

Last summer I started a book called The Power of Your Other Hand by Lucia Capacchione, which suggests you can tap into your inner child, artist, writer, healer, and teacher by writing or drawing with your non-dominant hand. And whereas I was balls-to-the-wall into this book when I first got it, it’s been collecting dust for months now. Still, for whatever reason, I thought about it this afternoon and decided it was time to pick it back up, read a chapter, and do the suggested exercises, one of which involved dialoguing with my body by writing questions with my dominant hand (my right) and writing answers with my non-dominant one (my left).

Talk about talking to yourself.

For over an hour, I went through this process, asking questions of my body in general, my head and shoulders, my stomach, my knee, and my skin. Who or what are you? How do you feel? Why do you feel this way? What can I do to help you? And whereas I’ll spare you all the specific answers, I will say that my body apparently feels neglected and picked on (by me). For example, when I first asked about my headaches, it said, “I feel ignored. I am here to help. You put so much pressure on me to go and do and learn. You must like pressure. I mirror that, all your pushing.”

With this in mind, I’m really going to try to take it easier on myself, to stop asking my body to be something it’s not, like healthier, straighter (in terms of posture, not sexuality), or prettier/handsome-er. I truly can be so fucking demanding of myself. A real critical hard ass. A perfectionist. (Take your time to digest this information; I realize it may come as a surprise.) Sometimes when I see someone who’s beautiful, part of me thinks that means I’m not. But my body specifically asked me to stop comparing myself to other people or wishing to be “like him,” so my new mantra is I’m beautiful too.

Now it’s 10:57, and the moon is completely eclipsed by the earth’s shadow. Incidentally, it’s called a blood moon because it doesn’t absolutely disappear during the eclipse but rather glows red. It’s called a super moon because it’s closer to the earth than normal and therefore larger, and it’s called a wolf moon because the January moon is always called the wolf moon (because wolves howl at it?). Thus, Super Blood Wolf Moon Eclipse. Geez. What a mouthful. Anyway, the moon will be in totality (totally covered up) for about an hour, then it will begin to show again. And whereas I have zero desire to be outside for the entire affair, I do want to wrap this up so I can continue to go outside every five or ten minutes and see what’s going on. Plus, while the moon isn’t shining as bright, I’ll be able to see and identify more stars and constellations.

I’m seriously nerding out right now.

Just because I can’t help myself, here’s a little astronomy lesson. If you’re looking at the moon in the east, uh, before midnight tonight, you should be able to see two bright stars “above” it. These are Castor and Pollux, the two brightest stars in Gemini. Below and to the right of the moon, you’ll find Procyon, the brightest star in Canis Minor (The Lesser Dog). Then there’s Orion in the  south (easily identified by the three stars in his belt), and and if you follow his belt “down,” you’ll find Sirius in Canis Major (The Greater Dog), Sirius being the brightest star in the night sky. Sirius is the reason we have the expression “the dog days of summer.” Since the sun tracks near Canis Major in the summer, the ancients believed the constellation’s brightest star added to the heat of our sun and, therefore, our days.

There’s a chance to start again.

Okay, I obviously went on a little bit of an astronomy rant there. I really do need to get going. Still, it occurs to me that an eclipse, at first sight, is an ominous event. In this case, all the light of the moon is slowly blacked out. One might think, What are we doing to do? But then just as surely as the light disappears, it comes back. Phew, what a relief. All is not lost. This reminds me that often things can seem bleak, but as long as we’re alive there’s a chance to gently start again–with ourselves, our bodies, and each other.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Solid help and solid hope are quite the same thing.

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When Things Seem Dark (Blog #660)

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It’s 9:15 in the evening, and I’m babysitting for some friends. The kids just went to bed, and I’m curled up in the living room by the fire. And whereas my body feels like poop and I’d really like to fall asleep, I’m writing instead. Not that I’m trying to play The Blog Martyr. I get this is my choice. It’s just my leg aches, my shoulder’s inflamed, and my head hurts. In multiple ways, my body is asking for a break. I really am trying to listen, but I’m not exactly sure what it’s asking for. More sleep? I agree, that’d be nice.

Let me start again.

This morning and afternoon were filled with what’s become typical. I ate breakfast, did my leg rehab exercises, took a shower. Oh, and I practiced knitting. I figured out something I was doing wrong at the end of every row. And whereas that was frustrating and I had to start all over, I now know more than I did before. For the rest of my knitting life, I’ll be better off because I screwed up in the beginning. Anyway, then I got ready for babysitting.

When I first got here, the kids played on their devices while I started a book by Wayne Dyer called I Can See Clearly Now. Then we ate dinner and watched a movie–Alvin and the Chipmunks: Chipwrecked. It was the cutest thing. Alvin and his pals get stranded on a desert island (grammar joke: I’d much rather be stranded on a dessert island), and Dave comes to save them. Then we played Oregon Trail, a card game based on, well, the Oregon Trail. Last time the kids and I played this game, I died, but this time I only got a broken arm. I thought, Even in board games I can’t help but injure myself. But as one of the kids said, “It could be worse.” Amen. Hell, one of them got shot, and the other one died of cholera. So even with a broken arm, I ended up winning the game.

Now I’m back at home. Just before I finished the last paragraph, my friends got back. I said earlier that I was frustrated with my shoulder and headache, and without my even mentioning my issues, my friends recommended a stretching program that comes on public television. They said it’s helped them with a number of their bodily concerns. Anyway, I plan to check it out. Lately I’ve been telling myself that things CAN get better, that answers can come out of nowhere, so maybe this is an answer. Stranger things have happened. Two of the big points in Wayne’s book are that nothing happens by accident and that even the most difficult circumstances in our lives are there to help our souls grow. So I’m trying to remember this, that things can turn around like that and that even when life seems dark, there’s light to be found.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"Authenticity is worth all the hard work. Being real is its own reward."

On Doing Difficult Things (Blog #659)

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It’s 11:30 at night. An hour and a half ago I sat down to blog but have been procrastinating ever since by cleaning out my email inbox and searching online for alternative health solutions. I really don’t know what to talk about today. Once this afternoon and once this evening I practiced knitting, and I’d rather be doing that. Or reading a book. Or watching Netflix. (The fifth season of Grace and Frankie just came out.) Really, I’d rather be doing anything else but writing. Oh look–there’s a jar of peanut butter.

Eating peanut butter sounds like a good thing to do.

Last night after blogging, I went to the gym. I really like going late at night; there’s hardly anyone there. That being said, because my gym’s not open late on the weekends, today I went this afternoon. And whereas there were some hot bodies to look at (well, one in particular), it was definitely more crowded and less fun. Hell, I thought I was gonna have to fight an old lady for the last available exercise bicycle. Thankfully, she was apparently eyeing another piece of equipment. But still, I usually have all five bikes to myself, and today I felt crowded. I guess conspicuous is a better word. In my opinion, my rehab exercises look weird. You know how you assume everyone’s staring at you constantly, even though they’re not.

The truth–nobody gives a shit what you’re doing.

When I got home from the gym, I took a nap. Because my achy leg wakes me up constantly during the night, nap time is the best part of my day. It’s fabulous. Also, this lack of solid sleep thing is a drag, a serious drag. Even now, despite the nap, I’m finding it difficult to concentrate or string two thoughts together. My mind and body are just done. Go back to sleep, they’re saying. Maybe this is why Netflix or knitting sound appealing. Neither requires much mental power.

Hum. That’s something. I just said knitting doesn’t require much mental power, which means it’s getting easier. (I just learned a few days ago.) That’s good. Likewise, doing my rehab exercises and going to the gym are getting easier. They’re becoming part of my routine. Not necessarily a fun part, mind you, but a part nonetheless.

Where am I going with this?

I said earlier that I didn’t want to write tonight. Still, here I am writing, so clearly a part of me does want to write tonight. Sometimes people say I’m disciplined–I write every day, I do my rehab exercises consistently, whatever. And whereas I agree that I’m disciplined in these areas, since I know there are areas in my life in which I’m not disciplined, I usually just think of myself as being “sold on” these activities that I consistently do. That is, I really want to be a writer and am sold on the idea that writers write. I’m sold on the idea that if I do this every day for a certain period of time, I’ll learn something valuable. Along the same lines, despite the fact that I hate having injured my leg, I’m sold on the idea that if I do my rehab exercises, I’ll get better. One day I’ll run again; one day I’ll dance again. So I do the thing even when I don’t feel like it.

I guess that’s my point tonight. If it’s worth doing–if there’s some reward on the other side of doing it–you’re probably rarely going to feel like doing it. It’s not a warm, fuzzy message, I realize. It’s just the truth. There is a warm, fuzzy part, however. Once you do the thing, then the good feeling comes. For example, now that this blog is over, I’m glad I did it. I feel a sense of pride, of accomplishment that no one can take away. So that’s the deal–a part of you will never feel like doing the difficult thing–never. Whatever it is, it’s difficult for a reason. That is, it’s not fun. But a great part of you will always feel good after having done the difficult thing–always. The fun comes after the fact.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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Reminding Myself of the Facts (Blog #658)

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I don’t know why I’m smiling in today’s photo. It’s not like I feel fabulous. Lately I’ve just been going through the motions. This morning I got up early to meet a friend for lunch, which was lovely, and the sun even showed up for about five minutes. Imagine that–sunshine for the first time in over a week. But then the clouds took over again. Since injuring my leg, this is how my mood has been. Punctuated moments of sunlight–a smile here, some laughter there–followed by the clouds rolling back in.

Wah. Wah.

After lunch today I went to physical therapy. And whereas I showed up late (I had the appointment time wrong in my head), they fit me in. I really do like these folks–even when I’m scheduled to work with someone specific, they all chip in to help. Plus, everyone–the therapists, the patients–are in one big room together. I swear, it’s the best medicine, seeing people of all ages rehab-ing their broken parts. Today I met a teenage girl who tore her ACL while dancing (like me) and had the same surgery I did at the end of November. Anyway, she’s about three or four weeks ahead of me in terms of progress and her exercise regimen, and it was exciting for me to see a preview of coming attractions. (Except the part when her therapist bent her leg back and she said, “That hurts–everywhere.”)

When I got home from physical therapy, I took a nap. Naps, I’m finding, are the best thing ever, since I’m really not sleeping well at night. Every hour or two, my leg wakes me up. Then at some point, even though I’m tired, I can’t go back to sleep. But a good nap helps. This evening I slept for an hour and a half and woke up practically drooling. It was like I’d just come back from visiting another planet. I can’t wait to do it again tomorrow.

Now it’s 10:30, and whenever I finish the blog, I’m going to my local gym to do more knee rehab. As my goal is to be there once a day for leg related stuff, I’m hoping that sooner or later I’ll pick up some biceps through osmosis. Wouldn’t that be great? Then maybe someone’s flat stomach could magically rub off on me. Or just rub on me, I’d settle for that. (That was a sex joke, Mom.) But seriously, even when I’m in a gloomy mood, I enjoy going to the gym, especially late at night when hardly anyone else is there. Then I can listen to my music, do my thing, and not be bothered.

Whenever I get overwhelmed by my emotions, I have to remind myself that just because I think a thought, doesn’t mean it’s true. Just because I feel something, doesn’t make it gospel. Like, a few good friends have checked in on me today, so this evening I’ve been reminding myself that I’m not alone even when I feel like I am. Likewise, I’ve been telling myself there’s significant progress that will happen over the next month (as evidenced by the girl I met this afternoon), even though I feel like my current limitations are permanent. And whereas my reminding myself of “the facts” doesn’t immediately change my mood, it does keep me from spiraling out of control. It does keep things from getting worse.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Abundance is a lot like gravity--it's everywhere.

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