Coke in a Can (Blog #337)

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This afternoon I got out of the house to go to Tractor Supply. Our dog, Ella, is just about out of glucosamine chews, and other than the fact that Dad’s in the hospital, this is apparently the most pressing concern for our family, our dog’s arthritis. Yesterday, in the midst of being overwhelmed with Dad’s issues, Mom said, “You could get some glucosamine at Walmart, but you’ll have to check the back of the bag to make sure it’s for the right-sized dog, and I don’t know how much Ella weighs, maybe fifteen, maybe seventeen pounds because we’ve been feeding her more, and things would probably be cheaper somewhere else, if you could buy in bulk, if they even make glucosamine in bulk, and–” I said, “Mom, relax. I’ll take care of it.”

Well, I guess everyone was getting out of school or work this afternoon, since it took fifteen minutes for me to get from my driveway to the nearest stoplight, six blocks away. Finally I thought, Fuck this. My sister has an Amazon Prime account, and turned the car around. (Mom, Amazon is the world’s online shopping mall. Amazon Prime lets your order anything from dildos to dog food and have it delivered for free to your doorstep in two days–guaranteed.) So everyone can stop worrying about Ella’s stiff hips–her glucosamine should be here Sunday.

If only all of life’s problems were so easy to solve.

Since I’m a glutton for punishment, I next went to the Department of Motor Vehicles. I noticed a few days ago that I don’t have current proof of registration for my antique car, Garfield. Honestly, in the twelve years that I’ve had the car, I don’t ever remember having this. Since you don’t have to renew antique tags on a yearly basis (or ever), I thought, Maybe I don’t need proof of registration. But what happens if I get pulled over? Anyway, I wanted to find out. But when I stepped inside the DMV, there must have been fifty people inside, and every one of them was in line in front of me. Again I thought, Fuck this, and turned around.

Back in my car, I called the DMV. Someone picked right up, and they told me that, yes, indeed I do need a registration (that never expires), and I can get a duplicate one for a dollar. All I have to do is bring in my license plate number. Y’all, I can’t tell you how glad I am that I’ve never been pulled over in Garfield. Apparently I’ve been breaking the law for up to twelve years. Now I feel like such a rebel.

To anyone who’s attracted to bad boys–I’m over here!

This evening I ran a couple errands then called my aunt, who’s staying with my dad at the hospital tonight, to see if they needed anything. She said, “I need a REAL Coke IN A CAN. Not a bottle. A can. It doesn’t even have to be cold.” So that’s what I brought her–three cans of Coca-Cola. Y’all, I don’t know if she’s a caffeine or sugar addict or what, but you would have thought I’d given her a line of cocaine and not just a can of soda. Her eyes were so wide when she popped the top. She said, “Here’s three dollars, and keep the change. IT’S WORTH IT.”

Before I left the hospital, I messed with the dry-erase board on the wall, the board where they write what day it is and who the nurse and doctor on duty are. There was a section at the bottom that asked, “What is your current pain goal?” The answer line was blank, so I wrote, “To not have any.” (Duh.) Then there was a pain-rating scale with five different cartoons. Basically there was a smiley face on one end and a scrunched up, frowny face on the other. Well, all of the faces were bald, so I drew them different hair styles, and one guy (pain level 3-4) even got a top hat.

I don’t know if anyone on the hospital staff will find this funny, but it clearly wasn’t about them.

Now it’s almost midnight, and I’m ready to call it a day. I’ve felt all right today, but my energy level is still shit. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that it could be like this for a while longer–up a little, down a little–until my doctors figure things out. Not forever, but for a while. I figure I can handle anything for a while. Hell, if I can drive a car without proof of registration for twelve years without getting pulled over, surely I’m lucky enough to survive this current storm, to ride it out until the calm returns. And maybe, just maybe, when the calm does return, I’ll celebrate my good fortune by drinking a Coke–from a can.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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The F2 Button (Blog #336)

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Last night I dreamed that I was at summer camp, in the winter. I was with a friend, and we decided to go for a run. I was in short sleeves with an orange vest on, a vest I actually own in real life that’s like the one Michael J. Fox wore in Back to the Future. Someone pointed out that the tag said, “F2.” Anyway, we jogged around, and it was like an outdoor museum. There were statues. At some point I encountered a policeman who started bothering me, and I told him to give me a break, man. Then I climbed up on a rock, which apparently I wasn’t supposed to be on, since a camp counselor picked up where the policeman left off. More vocal than normal, I said, “Give it a rest. I’m not hurting anyone.” And then I woke up.

I didn’t actually get out of bed until almost four today. I guess I needed the rest. Currently it’s midnight. I’ve only been awake for eight hours, but I’m wiped out. I’m really trying to be patient with my body.

This morning some friends brought my mom home from the hospital, where she stayed last night with my dad. This afternoon I took her back to the hospital, and I stayed for several hours and ran a couple errands for my parents. Dad is stable. From what I understand, the current goal is to drain as much fluid off of him as possible, anywhere from thirty to fifty pounds. (Wow.) The cardiologist would like to run some further tests, but they’re taking it day-by-day, trying to determine what Dad’s heart can handle.

Since Dad’s overweight, the hospital got him an oversized bed. It has a trapeze bar that hangs down over his torso so he can pull himself up or get situated right. This evening Dad told one of the nurses that he and Mom were going to “test out the trapeze tonight.” The nurse laughed, but I rolled my eyes, since I’ve been listening to Dad tell slightly inappropriate jokes to strangers for over thirty years. Later Mom told the nurse, “Marcus is a boundaries person.”

So apparently I’m getting a reputation. I can’t wait to tell my therapist.

All day long I’ve been trying to make sense of last night’s dream. When I think about summer camp, all my thoughts are positive. That being said, when I worked at summer camp, it was during a time in my life when I was my least authentic. So my guess is that my subconscious is trying to communicate that there’s a way to live life and have fun and at the same time be my true self. Like running (for me), this is a challenge, and I think the summer camp in winter thing represents just how challenging the search for authenticity is, since (personally) I hate winter.

The statues most likely represent my past, my un-alive or inauthentic self, so I think it’s good that I was running by them. Likewise, I think it was good that I was wearing the Back to the Future vest. For one thing, the vest is extremely warm, which tells me that there’s a way to make it through even the most difficult winter. Also, I think “back to the future” speaks to the idea that sometimes you have to go back before you can forward, or perhaps it simply means that I’m being prepared for the future and that my past is way over. Like, I can put it in a museum.

My favorite part of the dream is when I told the policeman and the camp counselor to back off, since those characters clearly represent the parts of my personality that require me to follow all the rules and “be perfect.” Apparently I’m finally getting to the point where I’m tired of and done with all that shit. Leave me alone. I’m not hurting anyone. Can’t you see I’m having fun, just being myself over here? And the fact that I was on a rock? Surely that means I’ve reached solid ground. Or that I myself am solid.

We’re allowed to relabel and remake ourselves.

The thing in the dream I’ve been most curious about today has been the “F2” label on the vest. My best guess is that it refers to the F2 button on a standard Windows keyboard. The F2 button is the “rename” function, a shortcut for changing a file’s name. This reminds me that I’m allowed to relabel and remake myself, not just with words but from the inside out. Like, I don’t have to spend the rest of my life as a self-demanding perfectionist. I don’t have to put up with someone else’s or even my own harassment. I don’t have to let people walk all over me. Marcus is a boundaries person. Even when life is cold and challenging, I can run toward authenticity. We all can.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Give yourself a break.

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Daddy Is Worn Out (Blog #335)

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Okay. Let’s get real. It’s five in the morning. I just got home. Daddy is worn out. This is going to be short. Don’t expect compound sentences.

Today was my last day house sitting for my friends. In the midst of my getting their home back in order, my mom called. She said Dad has been having trouble this week, that he’s been short of breath. So on his doctor’s recommendation, they were taking him to the emergency room. So this has been the whole damn day. We still don’t have a solid “answer,” but apparently he’s retaining fluids, which he sometimes does. But he’s also got other problems, like his respiration rate being low. Anyway, they’re figuring it out. He’s staying the night at the hospital, and they’re running tests tomorrow.

So all of that sucks. Still, I’m glad he’s getting help.

I spent part of this evening at the hospital, then left to participate in an improv comedy show at a local sushi restaurant. The show itself went great, but the crowd was spotty. When the show was over, I stuck around and hung out with my friends Justin and Joseph, who’d shown up to support our group. We ended up closing down the restaurant, then going for pizza and beer. Afterwards we all came back to my house, and they helped me gather up some things for my parents. (Mom is staying the night at the hospital with Dad.) Then we picked up some food for my parents and dropped everything off at the hospital. This was around one or two in the morning.

Obviously after visiting hours.

Then Justin and Joseph and I went to IHOP, since clearly the thing to do after eating one meal is to eat another. Anyway, we were there until four, and now I’m home. Honestly, I’m tired. Not just physically tired, but emotionally tired. I can’t tell you how effing done I am with sickness and doctors and hospitals and broken bodies. I’m like so over it. But what do you do?

In my case, I obviously spent the evening drinking a few beers and eating two meals. Well, three if you count the half a sushi roll that Joseph gave me after the comedy show. More importantly, I spent the evening in the company of some wonderful friends. I laughed a lot. When the evening was finally over, I told Justin, “I really appreciate your staying up late and helping me with Mom and Dad’s stuff. I know you have to be at work in a few hours.” He said, “Don’t worry about it. I figure that life is going to happen. You can either roll with it and participate in it or not. I choose to participate.” I can’t tell you how much I love this philosophy, the idea that we don’t have to push against every difficult situation, but that we can stay up late and eat and “friend” our way through whatever life brings us.

And then we can pass out, like I’m about to do.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Our world is magical, a mysterious place where everything somehow works together, where nothing and no one is without influence, where all things great and small make a difference.

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A Light at the End of the Tunnel (Blog #334)

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This morning I saw my internist, who’s a saint as far as I’m concerned. First of all, she allayed my fears that anything was seriously wrong with me. She said that my chronic sinus infections and other such irritating problems were most likely due to a “glitch” in my immune system, that–like being gay–some people are just born this way. In order to confirm or deny her suspicions about my immune system, I gave up four vials of blood to be sent off for analyzation. Hopefully the results will pinpoint exactly what’s up.

To make up for the loss of blood, I ate three chocolate bars.

In other news, apparently my B12 levels, although technically “in range,” are low for someone my age. So my doctor’s nurse gave me a B12 shot, and this afternoon I bought liquid B12 to take sublingually. With any luck, this supplementation will positively affect my overall energy.

These were the “big items” for the day, but my doctor and I also discussed my (genetically) high cholesterol, for which she prescribed some dietary changes and a natural supplement (red yeast rice). She said, “Let’s try this for two or three months, then re-test. If it’s still high, THEN we’ll talk about statins.” For my sinus problems, she told me about a different saline-rinse product and actually endorsed using baby shampoo in my sinus rinses once or twice a week. (So not everything I’ve read on the internet and tried in the past is crap.) Lastly, she told me that the most likely reason I threw up in my mouth while sleeping a couple nights ago was because of the salsa on my nachos, not because of the actual nachos themselves. “Tomato products open up the esophageal sphincter,” she said, “so it’s best to limit your intake of them to before 4 PM.”

Who knew?

This afternoon I saw my therapist, and when we discussed my health challenges and what my doctor told me today, she said, “So it sounds like the problem is genetic, and that means IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT. Everyone is dealt a different hand in life, and this is simply yours.”

Now how did she know I’ve been blaming myself for this?

I spent the rest of the day running errands and looking for the supplements my doctor mentioned. Really, despite the fact that I didn’t sleep much last night (most likely due to DAA or Doctor-Appointment Anticipation), it’s been a great day. My body has felt pretty good–really good, all things considered–and I’ve felt hopeful about getting my health issues sorted out soon-ish. Plus, I had coffee for the first time in two weeks (I gave it up when I got the flu), and that made me smile (and then made me jittery). But the bottom line is that between feeling a bit better and seeing both my doctor and my therapist in one day, I’ve been encouraged. At least for today, I can see a light at the end of the tunnel.

Hopefully it’s not a train.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"No one's story should end on the ground."

A Rough Night (Blog #333)

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Before I went to bed last night I ate a plate of nachos. I can’t imagine they were good for my cholesterol, but they were good for my taste buds, so that’s something. Then I lay down, watched an episode of Breaking Bad, and absolutely passed out. At some point during the night–I really don’t know when–I was rudely awakened by my own vomit. Quite literally, I awoke to find myself heaving. Fortunately, there wasn’t a lot coming up, and my lips closed in time to keep everything in. But it tasted awful. Anyway, I stumbled to the bathroom, drank some water, went back to bed and had terrible dreams, and woke up with a headache.

I’m never having nachos again.

Today I’ve been worried that last night’s adventure in the land of acid reflux will repeat itself when I go to bed later. Earlier I ate a bowl of soup and have been thinking, I don’t want to taste that again. So I’m determined to not eat anything while I blog in order to give everything a chance to settle down. I realize last night’s upset was quite possibly a one-off, but considering all the health problems I’ve been having lately, I’m paranoid that I’ll soon have one more thing to worry about. I’m concerned that I’m truly falling apart.

Might as well just put me in a wheelchair and get it over with.

Other than my general sense of worry, today has gone well. My mechanic tuned up my car, Tom Collins, so he should be good to go for a while. This afternoon I worked on marketing stuff for the swing dance event I’m working with, and that made me feel like I’m contributing to the world. Additionally, I saw my parents. I went to the bank. Tonight I talked to my sister, who’s a great listener and encourager. Talking to her always makes me feel better.

Now I’m doing laundry, since I’m seeing my internist tomorrow and want to be wearing clean pants for the occasion. (Considerate, I know.) The appointment is early, and I have an improv comedy rehearsal tomorrow night, so it promises to be a long day. For that reason, I’m going to try to wind down. Hopefully I’ll be able to get some rest and not throw up on myself.

There’s a sentence I’d never thought I’d say.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Even a twisted tree grows tall and strong.

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Simple Pleasures (Blog #332)

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Yesterday I drove to Missouri for a sock hop. Talk about fun. There was music from the fifties (played on actual vinyl records), an Elvis impersonator, the stroll, a twist contest, a hula hoop contest, and a milkshake stand. I even got to perform in a Lindy Hop routine with nineteen other people (as a follower). I danced until I was soaking wet. At the end of the night, I could have won a wet t-shirt contest. Honestly, it was the most fun I’ve had in months.

After the dance, I helped my friends Anne, Andy, Matt, and Emma clean up the ballroom. (Anne and Andy own it and live upstairs.) Then Anne, Andy, Matt, and I went to IHOP and were there until almost three in the morning. (We got there late, and the staff was having a rough night.) Afterwards Matt went home, and the rest of us went back to the ballroom. When we got there, I realized my wallet wasn’t in my jacket and that it had probably fallen out at the restaurant. Andy and I went back, and Anne called them while we were on our way. Thankfully, they’d found it, and when I got there, nothing was missing.

Phew. That could have turned out so much worse.

Today Matt and I worked on Lindy Hop for a few hours. We bounced and jumped around quite a bit, and although my ankles were a little cranky, the rest of my body hung in there. I can’t tell you how thankful I am for this. Both last night and today, my energy level has been up. Almost normal. So many times in my life I’ve taken feeling good for granted, but having spent the last few months dragging ass, I’m reminded today that it really is a gift. Just being able to get out of the house and have fun with your friends and not feel like you’ve been hit by a truck–it’s huge.

That being said, I do currently feel as if I’ve been hit by a truck. But like a really small one. Like a Datsun. But that’s mostly because of all the jumping around Matt and I did today. I spent nearly an hour getting thrown in the air. And whereas it was way fun, I guess it all sank in on the drive home tonight. These bones ain’t what they used to be.

Don’t worry, I have Ibuprofen.

Now I’m back to house sitting for some friends and taking care of their dogs, who honestly seemed rather unimpressed with the fact that I’d returned. I mean, they barked, but they didn’t wag their tails when I walked in the door. That’s okay–I don’t need their approval. I can wag my own tail. With any luck I’ll be in bed before long, falling asleep grateful for simple pleasures like the company of friends, the feel of a wet t-shirt against my skin, and having a body capable of jumping.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Everything is progressing as it should.

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Making My Way Home (Blog #331)

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It’s Saturday afternoon, and I’m almost ready to hit the road. There’s a sock hop in Missouri tonight, and I’ve spent the day getting ready. I took a shower, shaved, even clipped my fingernails and toenails. I kept thinking of that line from Scent of a Woman–“Get yourself up, get yourself together.” Then I put on a new pair of jeans along with a fresh white tee and made a delightful breakfast–fried sweet potatoes, scrambled eggs, toast, and fruit. And hot green tea. I feel like a new man.

I’m also ready to go back to bed.

I think the lingerings of the flu are finally over. Now I’m just back to my normal level of tired due to whatever is wrong. I’m currently listening to Natalie Merchant’s song “Wonder.” They say I must be one of the wonders, God’s own creation. And as far as they see, they can offer no explanation.

I said yesterday that I’ve been planning my own funeral. This is “mostly” a joke. I don’t know what’s going on with my body, but I don’t really think I’m dying, at least in the immediate sense. I think a person generally knows when “this is the end,” and I don’t have that feeling at all. You never know, of course, but my intuition says I’ll be around quite a while longer. (So you’re just going to have to get used to the idea.)

That being said, I have been thinking about death. Not in a macabre or morbid sense, but in an everyday sense. What I mean by this is–let’s face it–death happens every day. It’s something everyone–everyone–has to go through. Why not think about it? In my case, I don’t think I’m afraid to die. Granted, I’m terrified–absolutely frightened–of being sick and in pain. I don’t want to drown, burn to death, or have every bone in body broken and go through kidney failure. But taking that last long breath and drifting off this planet the same way I drifted in? That part I’m okay with.

Earlier I was thinking, If I were to die soon, would I be disappointed in myself? And whereas I still have a hundred things I’d like to do–like publishing a book, sharing my story, and helping others–I’m proud to say that no, I’m really satisfied with how I’ve lived my life. There’s a concept in spiritual teachings that part of our soul’s journey is to integrate–to line up our heads and our hearts as we pull all our scattered pieces back together. In short, the goal is leave this planet intact. This is why Jesus, as he hung on the cross, said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” It wasn’t about God and those who had wronged Jesus. It was about Jesus and his own personal soul, about not hanging on or being bitter, about not dying with any unfinished business. Indeed, he said, “It is finished.” His soul had done what it came to do. It could leave whole.

I’m not pretending to be like Jesus–by any means. (Although I do think I have good hair like he did.) There are still a lot of things in my life that could stand cleaning up, so I’m not putting myself on a cross here. At the same time, I realized earlier that I’ve worked my ass off these last several years to get myself up and get myself together. As much as anyone else I know, I’ve worked to own every part of my past and, at the the time, not use any of it as an excuse to be bitter, cynical, or unkind. I told my therapist recently that this work is tough stuff. She said, “You’re right, and it’s why most people don’t do it. But the reward is less anxiety and stress, better relationships, and peace.”

I think to think of this reward as coming home.

Honestly, I’m so often focused on what’s left to be done that I don’t give myself enough credit for how far I’ve come. But today I am. If only for this moment, I’m recognizing that if I were to die today, it would be well with my soul. I’ve done The Hard Work.

Toward the end of “Wonder” Natalie Merchant sings, “With love, with patience, and with faith, she’ll make her way–she’ll make her way.” With love, with patience, and with faith, I know I will too. I believe we all will eventually. We all will make our way home.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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The clearer you see what's going on inside of you, the clearer you see what's going on outside of you. It's that simple.

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Such Is Life (Blog #330)

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For the last few weeks I’ve been putting off a project–writing a paper about marketing strategy for the swing dance event I’m working with. I’d planned to do it a couple weeks ago, but then the flu struck and struck hard. Anyway, the event is a few weeks away, so any marketing ideas I have are about to become moot, at least for this year. So today was the day I wrote the paper–I started this evening and worked for six hours on it. I still need to proofread everything, but the paper is done. It’s eleven pages long, almost five thousand words. This is why I’ve been putting this project off for so long–my brain is bleeding.

I just told my friend Matt about how I spent the day, and he said, “Have you blogged yet?” I said, “No.” He said, “Are you going to blog about procrastination?”

Ha. Ha. Ha.

This afternoon I finally heard from the immunologist’s office. They told me what additional bloodwork and tests they need, so next week when I see my internist I’ll be giving more blood. Also, they’re sending me a “new patient” package, and I have an appointment the first week in April to see the immunologist (provided the tests do indeed reveal a problem).

I guess five weeks isn’t that far away, all things considered.

Y’all, I’m completely nervous, worried, and paranoid about what the tests will reveal. I’m already planning my own funeral. (Say nice things about me. Please bring casseroles to my family. My dad likes chocolate cake.) Still, I keep telling myself that whatever is wrong has been wrong for a while, and it won’t do any good to bury my head in the sand or run away from it. Hell, if I can handle being sick, I can handle knowing WHY I’m sick.

So now we wait.

Such is life.

I need to wrap this up. I’m going out of town to a dance tomorrow, and it’s currently after midnight and I still have things to do. I’d like to proof that paper. Also, I’d like to take a shower, since I’m beginning to smell myself. This is one of the downsides to feeling poorly and not having many reasons to get out of the house–you don’t bathe. Frankly, it’s disgusting, but at least no one else is here to smell me. (I’m single.) As my dad says, “Such is life.” You put something off, and then you do it–you’re sick for the longest time, then hopefully you get some answers–you take a shower, or you don’t–you feel the way you feel. If you can, you try to accept life for what it is, with all its imperfections, atrocities, mysteries, and wonders.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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For me, it's important to hang on to this idea that no matter how bad they are, your circumstances can turn around, to believe that if an elephant can show up in your life, it can also disappear, to believe that just as the universe full of big problems, it is also full of big answers.

"

This Beautiful Burst of Light (Blog #329)

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Today has been cold and wet, and I hate that. It’s depressing. It makes my feet cold. Why I wasn’t born on a tropical island, I’ll never know. Last night I was up until almost four, first watching Netflix then working on some Reichian Therapy breathing exercises. The exercises focused on breathing into your belly and chest, breathing into only your belly, and breathing into only your chest. I’m still not sure I was doing it “right,” but I think I saw my own aura during the process. I don’t know what else it would have been, this reddish/pink light dancing across the ceiling. And no, I hadn’t been drinking. I was completely sober.

Anytime I’ve tried to see an aura, mine or someone else’s, it’s never worked. That being said, every couple of years I have an experience like I did last night. It’s always out of the blue, never predictable. When it involves someone else, I’ll see colors around them, like a halo. When it’s just me, it’s usually when I’m lying down, and I’ll see colors projected on the ceiling. The first time it happened, it was yellow–last night, pink. I don’t know what any of it means, but experiences like these always remind me that there’s more to us than we realize. We’re not just flesh and bones. We’re bigger, more beautiful than that.

Despite my energetic experience last night, I’ve felt completely human today. My body is still dragging, and I spent most the day being angry at someone I don’t even know–the author of a book I just finished reading. The book was supposed to be about marketing “your business.” Instead the author spent most their time bragging–about their successful companies, their successful friends. (Harrumph.) In order to offset my bad mood, I went to a local bookstore in search of a book by Alexander Lowen, the founder of bioenergetics, which is similar to Reichian Therapy. (It’s my latest obsession.) I didn’t find the book, but I did enjoy browsing.

This evening I got back out to return the marketing book to the library and run some errands. I ended up buying a pair of jeans and three white t-shirts for a sock hop I’m planning to attend soon. It was exciting to get something new, even something little, but spending money when I don’t have a job always stresses me out. I feel the same way when I buy food, but then again, you gotta eat. My answer to this stress is usually to spend more money, so tonight I got on Amazon and bought the Alexander Lowen book I couldn’t find earlier. (I used a gift card from Christmas.) Of all the books I’ve read about the mind-body connection and healing, Lowen’s has made the most sense and been the most practical, and I can’t wait to dive in and learn more.

This morning I heard from my internist’s office. They spoke with the immunologist’s office, and the immunologist is supposed to let them (or me) know what tests they need. Yesterday it sounded like they wouldn’t take my case at all, and today it sounds like they’ll consider it, so I guess this is progress. By the time this is all over, I’m going to be a pro at waiting. I’ve been thinking this isn’t the worst thing in the world, having all this time on my hands while both my body and my doctors do their thing. Since starting this blog and especially since getting sick four months ago, I’ve been able to read and digest mountains of information about the body, healing, personal growth, and even marketing. This time in my life is frustrating for a lot of reasons, but it’s also provided me the opportunity to learn more than when I was in college.

So that’s something.

You can’t force an outcome.

Last night while working on the breathing exercises, I ended up breaking a sweat, grunting, even laughing. I didn’t have any specific memories come up, but I can only assume this was all beneficial, a release. Other times when I’ve done exercises like these, nothing. So I’ve been thinking that just like you can’t make yourself see an aura, you can’t make yourself heal. You can have a practice like yoga or meditation, some sort of space for the healing to show up in if it wants to–and I think you should–but you can’t force an outcome. Healing either happens or it doesn’t. Having tried so hard to heal for so long, I’m coming to see any healing, any letting go or movement in the right direction, as a grace, this inexplicable, beautiful burst of light that comes to us for no apparent reason.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There’s a lot of magic around you.

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Shine (Blog #328)

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This afternoon I spoke to the immunologist’s office, and they said they were waiting on my internist’s office for further lab results, results I’m pretty sure don’t exist. They said, “We get so many referrals, we typically don’t take new clients unless they have lab results showing an active infection.” I sent a message to my internist asking where we go from here–and I see her next week–but I don’t mind saying it’s difficult to advocate for yourself when you’re not feeling well. This, of course, is exactly when you need to advocate for yourself–when you don’t have the energy to do so. As Alanis Morissette said, “Isn’t it ironic?”

It really is funny how quickly your standards can change. Six months ago I wouldn’t have thought anything about making a phone call to ask for a doctor’s appointment. Today it took all the emotional strength I had. Maybe emotional strength and physical strength go together. After I got off the phone with the doctor’s office, I took a shower and returned some spark plugs to the auto supply store (because my mechanic told me the spark plugs were crap), and I was ready for a nap afterwards. Instead I came to my parents’ house and met my mechanic, who replaced my spark plugs (with ones he bought) then told me I could stand to have additional work (a throttle cleanup) done.

So that was good news.

Now I’m hanging out at home in order to raid the refrigerator and get the blog done. It’s been keeping me up the last few nights, and I’d like to have it checked off my to-do list for the day. This way I can pass out later if I want to. Honestly, I never thought this would be my life–constantly worn out, willing to work but unable to, discussing my problems on the internet. I remember once telling the universe that I could handle whatever it threw my way. I wasn’t trying to be cocky, but simply affirming my inner strength. I said, “I can do this. Bring it on.” Now I’d like to say–“I take it back.”

Pressure is necessary to positive internal change.

Joseph Campbell says, “Nothing can happen to you that is not positive. Even though it looks and feels at the moment like a negative crisis, it is not. The crisis throws you back, and when you are required to exhibit strength, it comes.” This is a statement that sounds great when your life is going well and is a real kick in the nuts when it’s not. Nothing can happen to you that’s not positive. Please. What chronically ill person is going to have THAT tattooed on their forearm? But here’s the thing–deep down, I really do believe that. Like a lump of coal under extreme pressure, I know that a profound transformation is happening here. Slowly, but it’s happening. I’m already stronger than I was six months ago, and I’m sure that wouldn’t be the case were it not for the physical and emotional challenges I’m currently facing. Honestly, I hate that life is set up this way, but it is. Pressure, it seems, is necessary to positive internal change. After all, lumps of coal don’t shine on their own.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"We were made to love without conditions. That's the packaging we were sent with."