Things That Aren’t On-Demand (Blog #247)

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Tonight for dinner I ate a steak with brussels sprouts and beets. Brussels sprouts and beets, with dandelion tea to drink! (Look, Ma, I’m becoming one of those annoying healthy people on the internet.) This afternoon I even ate a mango with breakfast. But seriously, what has happened to me, stepping out of my food comfort zone? Usually my vegetables are limited to zucchini, squash, and spinach–that’s it. I like my fruits to be apples, bananas, peaches, pears, or pineapples, or I don’t like them at all. Honestly, it’d be the same if I were going out for tacos–I’m a creature of habit–I find something that works and stick with it.

As for why I’m branching out at mealtime, I’ve been on the world-wide web again. Lately I’ve been reading a lot about how you should “eat the rainbow.” Personally, I think this is one of the gayest expressions I’ve ever heard (and therefore we should keep it). But seriously, I love the way it reminds me to fill my plate with colorful food. Fried chicken is not a color, Marcus. Well, usually when I take to a new idea, I jump overboard and go one hundred percent. I’m going to buy fifty-four new vegetables and sixteen new fruits. I’m going to eat the rainbow–in one meal! But the last time I went to the store I told myself it was okay to start small–one new fruit, one new vegetable, one new canned vegetable. Baby steps.

Now that I’ve tried all these new food items, I can’t say that my life has dramatically changed. I feel pretty much like I’ve felt for the last week–sort of tired, not awful. So I’ve been trying to convince myself that I really am in this for the long haul, that eating right is something that benefits a person over time, not over an afternoon. I’ve been trying to apply this thinking to my chi kung practice too. So far I’ve been at it every day for twelve days, and I really have to fight the tendency to throw in the towel because this still hurts or that’s still a problem. I blame America for this mentality. Everything here is drive-thru restaurants, two-day shipping, and on-demand movies. I want healing now.

Our bodies aren’t on-demand.

Of course, our bodies aren’t on-demand. Health problems and the number on the scale take time to develop, take time to go away. I’m trying to remember this. Once I read that the secret to success was simply doing more of a right action. In other words, if you consider eating a healthy meal to be a good thing–do more of that. Earlier today I saw a picture of me taken a couple months ago, and the first thing I thought was, Oh wow, I’ve lost weight in my face. So whereas I have a tendency to think that nothing I do ever works, my body has obviously responded to the right actions I’ve been taking for the last month. So maybe I just need to keep it up. As the saying goes, all things in good time.

This afternoon I finished reading Turtles All the Way Down by John Green, one of the best fiction books I’ve read in a while. Then I started a non-fiction book about intuition called Second Sight by Judith Orloff. Currently I’m a little less than halfway done, and all I can think about is finishing so I can get to the six other books I’ve already started but haven’t finished. I do this a lot–think about all the books I want to read but don’t have time to. I look at the dozens and dozens of titles on my Amazon wish lists and just assume my life would be better if I had all that knowledge. Since there’s always more to learn, this thinking is exhausting. So I’m trying to remind myself to simply do the best I can each day–read what I can read–and give myself a damn break.

Tonight I repaired a light fixture in my parents’ bedroom. A few weeks ago it shorted out, and I just got the replacement part I needed a couple days ago. So I was almost done. I’d already installed the new part, attached the wires, fastened the fixture to the ceiling, and put the bulbs back in. All I had to do was put the glass globe on the bottom. If you’ve ever done this sort of thing, you know nothing is ever easy, and I hit a snag when the new part I installed didn’t have a screw long enough to hold the globe on. (Don’t you hate it when a screw isn’t long enough?) Well, the next thing I knew, I was fishing through the trashcan for the old part, so I could take the long screw from it and use it to hold the globe on. Of course, the bracket holding the screw was welded on, so I ended up making a mess.

But the good news is that it worked. It just took longer than I thought.

I guess most things take longer than we think–losing weight, feeling better, reading a book. Just now I got distracted and watched a bunch of videos about intuition (it’s a theme lately), so now this blog is taking longer than I thought. Maybe we all get distracted, or maybe life isn’t meant to be lived in a straight line. Once my therapist said, “It’s not the destination, it’s the journey.” I think I rolled my eyes; it was just more “inspirational poster” than I could handle at the moment. But when I consider this blog, for example, it really isn’t where I’m going on the outside–365 days of straight blogging–it’s where I’m going on the inside. That’s the journey the therapist was talking about, the one that transforms you. Of course, this journey, like the physical body, refuses to be rushed, is the result of taking one right action after another, and is worth every baby step along the way.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can be more discriminating.

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All That Is Best and Broken (Blog #246)

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After eight months of solid blogging, I haven’t quite figured out how to “blog early.” (Perhaps this is not a surprise.) This morning I woke up at 11:30 and completed all my other daily routines (morning pages, chi kung, half a pot of coffee), and Bonnie and I have been shopping in Fayetteville ever since. My energy level is slightly better than yesterday, but now it’s 7:45, we’re at a dance in Northwest Arkansas that hasn’t even started yet, and I’m already worn out. Since the dance lasts for a while and then there’s the drive home, I’m trying to blog now while my brain is somewhat–somewhat–functional. I just can’t stay up late again to blog, at least until I feel better. I just can’t.

Great, that’s 125 words.

Oh wow, there’s a live band tonight–the Prairie Grove Jazz Band–and they just started warming up. It sounds like a bunch of toddlers who found the pots and pans. (I’m sure it will be much better when they’re actually playing a song.) Anyway, I wonder if I’ll be able to concentrate, keep a coherent train of thought going in between all the noise and the dances. Oh well–hang on–this could be a bumpy ride. AND the band just started. Much better, but loud. (YOU’LL HAVE TO TAKE MY WORD FOR IT.)

Oh my god, I just danced and am dying. Where did all the air go? Talk amongst yourselves.

The shopping objective today was to replace holiday decorations that Bonnie recently lost in a house flood. Anyway, we went to several stores and ended up with dozens of oversized tree ornaments, a holiday kitchen towel, and a Santa Claus that looks like St. Francis of Assisi that we’re calling St. Nicolaus of Assisi. Oh–and how could I forget?–we found two little statues–an owl and a squirrel–in fancy circus clothes and top hats! Who thinks of this stuff! Anyway, Bonnie’s gonna stick those suckers next to a little artificial pine tree, and it’s going to be so adorable you won’t be able to stand yourself.

Woodland critters in top hats for Christmas!

I told Bonnie that the best thing about today has been that not only have I gotten out of the house, but I’ve also gotten out of my head. I mean, if it hasn’t been obvious, I’ve spent a lot of time lately worrying about the state of my physical body. Why am I so tired? Am I ever going to feel well again? Maybe I should go ahead and pick out my headstone. This sort of thinking, of course, is exhausting (not to mention dramatic). Still, it’s hard to avoid when I have almost every minute of every day to myself with little else to do or think about. So whereas I think I need to take it easy, I’m reminding myself that I need to get out and be around other people–other people who will let me whine for about five minutes then shut me up with a margarita.

For lunch Bonnie shut me up with a margarita. Y’all, both of us have been on really healthy diets lately, Bonnie for nine weeks, me for four. But today we broke all the rules and had Mexican food. Wow, it was like reuniting with an old friend. I seriously felt like I owed the cheese an apology. I’m sorry I haven’t called lately–I’ve been cheating on you with spinach–I won’t let it happen again. Everything was so delicious; I probably gained five pounds from the chips alone. Of course, it feels like all my hard work just went straight down the drain, just like the flour tortillas went straight to my hips, but I realize that one meal is only one meal. Even even if it weren’t–it was totally worth it.

When we sat down at the restaurant, Bonnie surprised me with a birthday present. Granted, my birthday was over two months ago, but Bonnie made my present by hand, so it took her some time. Y’all, Bonnie knitted me some multi-colored wool socks–just in time for winter! I realize this is totally an old person thing to do, getting excited about socks. But these are homemade socks, and since my feet are always cold this time of year, warm socks really are the perfect thing. Plus, Bonnie designed the socks with a path down each side, sort of like a road, but it’s intentionally crooked and bumpy because Bonnie said that’s how life is.

Having lived for twenty-seven years now, I’d have to agree.

The card Bonnie gave me tonight had a quote by Oscar Wilde on it that said, “Be yourself–everyone else is taken.” Bonnie didn’t know it, but that quote is also used in the musical Kinky Boots–one of my favorites. So again, it was the perfect thing. Anyway, the quote makes me think about the importance of authenticity. I know we all wear masks and play different roles. Some of this, of course, is necessary in a polite society. You can’t tell everyone everything. But having spent plenty of time over the years trying to be someone I wasn’t (for example–straight, interested, or completely fine with bad behavior), I realize now I was mostly trying to be someone who didn’t even exist. Newsflash–there is no straight Marcus. There is no Marcus who’s okay when he’s cheated on. There is, however, a gay Marcus who sometimes falls apart and sometimes gets mad as hell.

Circuitous routes are where the healing happens.

Naturally, the road to authenticity is a crooked, bumpy path, just like recovering from an illness is a crooked, bumpy path. Being yourself, taking care of yourself, takes work. As my therapist says, it’s exhausting to always be the person setting boundaries and speaking your truth. So sometimes you wander as you figure things out. I think that’s okay. Nobody shows up to this life with a map in their hand, and even if we had one, I’m not sure we’d want to travel in a straight line. No, circuitous routes are better and more interesting. Circuitous routes are where the healing happens, since they let you double back and pick up the pieces of yourself you dropped along the way. This is what authenticity looks like, I think, the willingness to gather together all that is best and broken inside you and share it with someone else without apology, to face the world and say, “This is my winding road–this is MY winding road–and this is who I am.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Things are only important because we think they are.

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Everyone Has Pus to Deal With (Blog #245)

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Currently it’s just after midnight, I’ve only been awake for ten hours, and I’m worn to a frazzle. I honestly haven’t done much–I went for a walk, attended improv class, bought groceries–but my energy level is squat. (Squat, I say.) Since I tend to obsess about my health, this only concerns me–a lot. Logically I can say that my body feels so much better than a week ago and that my cough has disappeared, so I must be getting better. But logic doesn’t do much good around here–in my brain, that is. All I can think of are the hundred and one reasons why something must be wrong. Maybe I’m not taking enough vitamins. Maybe I’m taking too many vitamins. (That could be it.) Maybe I’m pregnant–my sister says being pregnant can really drain a person.

Honestly, I want to slap myself. Get a grip, Marcus.

I’m not sure where I got the idea that I need to figure my body out. I mean, I think it’s a good idea to be educated about a few things, take a vitamin c every now and then. But in my experience, my body seems to be able to handle most problems on its own. I mean, for an entire year I ran around with little warts on my face, trying everything under the sun to get rid of them. (The internet said to try duct tape!) I think my dermatologist was half-convinced I had HIV because my immune system wasn’t recognizing the invaders on my pretty face. Well, I got tested and was negative. Then one day the warts just went away. Who knows what happened? Maybe my body was just waiting for me to quit trying so hard.

I can just hear it saying, “Would you stop looking over my shoulder and let me do my job, please?”

I guess I have a really hard time with that, letting go of control. I really think a rational human being would say, “Of course I’m tired–I’m healing–that takes energy. I know–here’s an idea–I’ll sleep more!” Like, it could be that simple. Instead I want to complicate things, spend an hour on the internet trying to diagnose myself. This, of course, is a terrible idea. Tonight in improv class I noticed my brain was offline. I felt kind of foggy and couldn’t think of a single funny or witty thing to say. (I still can’t.) Anyway, if you Google “tired, brain fog” and click on more than one article, you’ll walk away wondering how you’re even alive. It’s like I have to tell myself, Step away from the internet, Marcus.

Step away from the internet.

About ten years ago I saw an acupuncturist and Chinese medicine doctor who gave me a magic powder that was supposed to “lock in” health. “Take this on a day when you feel really great,” she said. Well, I never took it. Maybe I just have high standards, but I kept thinking, I could feel better. (I still think that.) So I guess if I weren’t worried about feeling tired, I’d be worried about my allergies, or my high cholesterol, or the fact that my ears crackle and pop sometimes, even though my ear, nose, and throat doctor said, “You’re normal. That’s the way God made you.” Quite frankly, that’s a hard pill for me to swallow, the idea that I’m normal and okay, that it’s normal to always have something going on because the body is forever adapting to an ever-changing environment.

I know we all worry about our health. Both my sister and my mother have been worried about their cholesterol lately. My mom is battling cancer. As of today, my dad is dealing with allergies or a cold, and he has a whole list of other problems as daily struggles–diabetes, high blood pressure, you name it. But if you were to ask him how he’s doing, he’d smile and say, “If I were any better, I’d be twins.” Then there’s his son, who takes to the internet each night to fret about being tired. Honestly, I’m not sure which is better–sweeping your problems under the rug or airing them out on the front porch. Once again, it’s probably a matter of balance.

I’ve been thinking a lot today about community, thinking I could use some more of it. I recently finished re-listening to a Caroline Myss lecture, and she said that the process of growth and self-empowerment first looks like separating from people (in order to find your inner strength), but later looks like reconnecting with them (because life isn’t just about you). Personally, I know I try to do a lot on my own–figure out my problems, whatever. I’m rather independent. And whereas that feels familiar to me, it’s also exhausting, and I’m starting to believe that’s because we’re simply not created that way. Rather, we’re tribal creatures–we’re meant to connect with each other.

This afternoon I ran into our next door neighbor Carree. She pulled up in her Hyundai as I was going for my walk, and since I have a Hyundai too, I couldn’t help but start a conversation about our vehicles. (Incidentally, we both love our Hyundais.) Anyway, we started talking about the blog, and things got real pretty quick. I said, “I’m not sure why I’m so dedicated to it, but I really believe it’s the most important and transformative thing I’ve ever done. Still, it’s hard, working through all your shit every day.” Carree said we all do what my dad does, put on a face and say we couldn’t be better. “But we all have things we’re working though,” she said. “We all have wounds that fester, pus that bubbles up. [Carree’s a nurse.] You either deal with it now or you deal with it later.”

Then she said, “If you ever want to talk, I’m right next door.”

Our burdens are lighter when we share them.

Personally, I don’t think it was an accident that I ran into Carree on the same day I was feeling a little isolated. (I mean, we never run into each other.) I guess it’s easy to assume everyone else has it together, to see your neighbors in their new cars or the celebrity on television and assume they don’t have any problems, that they never have days when every part of them feels like throwing in the towel. And yet everyone has something going on. Everyone worries, struggles, and falls apart at times. Everyone has pus to deal with. But I’m reminded that we truly are all in this together and that our burdens are lighter when we share them. What’s more, there are people out there who want to connect with us, people closer than we think.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"The heart sings for its own reasons."

An Unbroken Chain (Blog #244)

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Currently it’s almost three in the morning, and I’d rather be reading. This afternoon I went for a walk, then started Turtles All the Way Down by John Green. It’s young adult fiction and just under three hundred pages, and I’m already two-thirds of the way through. Since I don’t get absolutely sucked into a book very often, I’d like nothing better than to curl up in this chair, immerse myself in story, and forget about the rest of the world until the last page has been turned. But, of course, I have this daily blog, so here I am–once again, world, it’s me–looking for meaning in the mundane, searching high and low for hope (come out, come out, wherever you are).

Honestly, I don’t know whose idea this was–trying to knock out a thousand-word blog every day for a year. A year–that’s been my goal for a while. I talked to my therapist about this recently and said that I didn’t know what I expected to happen after 365 days. Like, I don’t expect the sky to open up, for angels to descend with a bouquet of flowers, congratulations, and a check for a million dollars. Although that’d be nice–a parade would be nice. My therapist said, “Who knows? Once you hit a year, you may decide to keep going.”

Ugh, that sounds exhausting. But who knows?

Of course, writing every day for a year was my idea. But I don’t mind saying it’s not exactly easy pulling a thousand words and a life lesson out of my ass on days that, quite frankly, could easily be summed up like, “I went for a walk, I read a book.” Maybe another writer would make a day filled with those activities sound like a gripping adventure, but that’s not my style. Come on, waking up at three in the afternoon then taking a nap four hours later isn’t quite a-thrill-a-minute literature. And then I snored. And while I’m on the topic–why–why am I so tired anyway? I’m guess it could be the anti-histamine I took when I first woke up (which has been helpful), or maybe the fact that I was just sick for six weeks.

There’s an idea.

There’s nothing wrong with taking a damn nap.

I know that I have a tendency (just a teeny-weeny tendency) to underestimate what a big deal things are. Like, I think I can be sick for six weeks then reasonably expect my body to be able to run a marathon three days after it’s initiated recovery–instead of thinking, Wait a damn minute, my body has been through a lot lately. (And by lately I mean my entire life.) I don’t know if anyone else is like this, but I’m guessing I’m not alone here. We go, go, go and push, push, push then get frustrated when our bodies run out of gas. So I’m trying to remember–my body has been through a lot–I’ve been through a lot–there’s nothing wrong with taking a damn nap.

Another area where I tend to underestimate things is this blog. Like, most the time I don’t think it’s remarkable that I’ve sat down to write and lay myself bare on a daily basis for the last eight months. But today I heard a quote about forming habits by the philosopher and psychologist William James that said, “Never suffer an exception to occur till the new habit is securely rooted in your life,” and I realized that’s exactly what I’m doing here–not suffering one exception. Sick or well, tired or full of energy, I’m writing. I honestly don’t know why it’s so important to me, why I’m more committed to this than I have been to anything else in my entire life. I mean, I don’t even floss every day. But I do know that if I skip even one day of writing before I get to a year that I’ll lose a lot of respect for myself.

The flip side of this equation, of course, is that by writing every day I’m building self-respect. I wouldn’t for a minute pretend that every word or blog I write is parade-worthy, but each is a piece of this giant puzzle, so each is ultimately important and valuable. From my perspective, there’s not a single night’s work that I’m not proud of because each is a link in this (so far) unbroken chain. So to anyone, including myself, who’s consistent about anything, please know–it’s a big deal, it’s remarkable, and it’s okay to be your own parade.

Patting yourself on the back is better than beating yourself over the head.

I didn’t mean for this to turn into a pat-myself-on-the-back session, but I think it’s okay, especially considering all the years I’ve spent beating myself over the head. (Patting yourself on the back is better than beating yourself over the head.) I guess a lot of us beat ourselves up when we don’t have to. We make a big deal about what we can’t do and where we don’t measure up and refuse to acknowledge where we’re knocking it out of the damn park. Honestly–and I don’t mean for this to sound like whining–being human is hard. That’s just a fact. Our bodies and souls are under stress from day one, and it’s not like there’s a rule book that tells you what to do when the shit really hits the fan. As my friend Suzanne says, “Life is like getting pulled through a knothole backwards.” For these reasons, I really think anyone who bothers showing up on this planet is courageous, that it really is a big deal to go for a walk and keep putting one foot in front of the other, to do the best you can as one day links to the next like an unbroken chain.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There’s no such thing as a small action. There’s no such thing as small progress.

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The Gifts You Give to Yourself (Blog #243)

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I feel like all I’ve talked about for the last six weeks has been my sinus infection and I’m really not sure what to discuss now that it’s gone. I mean, I’m still dealing with allergies–we could talk about that–but who isn’t dealing with allergies? Considering the fact that my health has come so so far in the last forty-eight hours, it seems like whining to even mention my red, watery eyes. Not that I’m above whining. (Did I mention my ears itch too?) Still, I’ve had plenty of energy today and am not coughing as much as before, so things are definitely on the upswing–or is it the downhill?

Either way, praise the lord (and bless my heart).

This afternoon I went to my aunt’s house to repair her Sleep Number mattress. Apparently, the air pump for the mattress has been working (inflating and deflating), but the display on the attached remote hasn’t been. Last week the company sent my aunt a whole new unit (pump and fancy wireless remote), and I guess they told her “anyone can install it” and “it’ll only take five minutes.” Perhaps you see where this is going. Y’all, it took closer to an hour, since I had to disassemble the entire mattress in order to detach the old pump hoses and attach the new ones. Honestly, this wasn’t a big deal, but the old pump had a total of four hoses (two for each side of the bed), and the new pump only had a total of two. Convinced I was looking at the wrong pump for the job, I called the company.

Well, the lady explained that the old pump was designed to inflate through one hose and deflate through the other, somewhat like a divided highway. But the new pump was designed to inflate and deflate through the same hose (talk about a traffic jam), so all I had to do was hook one hose to each side, then plug the two extra holes in the mattress with the end caps they sent in the box. “Oh, those end caps,” I said. The she said, “So yeah–don’t worry–one hose is all you need.”

All I could think was, Oh honey, if only that were true.

After that things were basically a breeze, although I did almost get stuck crawling under the bed to plug in the air pump. (Apparently I’m no longer the size of an eight-year-old child.) But everything else was fine, that is until I walked through the garage to get my toolbox out of my car and stepped on one of those glue trap used to catch mice. I thought, You’ve got to be kidding. Y’all, those things don’t come off easily, especially when you’re hopping around on one foot. I felt like I was in an episode of The Three Stooges. Later, when I finally got the glue pad pulled off, I texted my sister about it, and she said, “At least there wasn’t a dead mouse on it.” I replied, “No, just a cockroach–and my shoe.”

This evening I went to the library to read and spent half my time looking at new books to borrow. (I walked out with three I didn’t walk in with.) Considering I already have plenty of other books to read, I’m starting to see this behavior as a mild form of self-deception. Like, I’ll make time to read that. Or I guess it could simply be the thrill of acquiring something new. Yesterday, for Cyber Monday, I picked up a couple new books for my Kindle on Amazon. I only spent two dollars, but you’d have thought I’d won the lottery. (Two new books!) Whether I read them or not, it is fun having a collection. Granted, I have to return the library books, but at least they don’t cost anything.

The book I actually read tonight was the one I got last week about allergies and sinus problems. So far the author has listed plenty of good tips about air filtration, diet, and supplements, but tonight he also said that love is a healing power. To me this means that the body and immune system thrive in an environment of positive relationships, connectedness, and self-acceptance.

Along these lines, I’ve decided I’d like to reframe how I look at some of my “healthy behaviors.” For example, nine days ago I restarted my chi kung practice. Chi Kung is an ancient Chinese healing art, somewhat similar to tai chi. Well, whenever I restart my practice, it’s usually because there’s a problem (like a chronic sinus infection), and I’m wanting to do something–anything–to make that problem go away. But I realized tonight there’s a difference between doing something because I want a problem to go away and doing something because I want to feel as good as possible. Maybe either way I’m still doing chi kung, but when I focus on the problem, the practice seems aggressive, like me versus (the sick) me. But when I focus on wanting to feel good, the practice seems loving, like me supporting (the sick) me.

Honestly, I think I do a lot of things in the spirit of aggression. I’m not talking about fists-clenched aggression, I’m talking about subtle aggression that simple sounds like part of me needs to be different than it is–healthier, smarter, richer, more attractive. It’s as if one part of me is trying to change another. Of course, this is virtually impossible because, well, I’m one person. So tonight I started telling myself, I’m reading because I like to read and because I love myself. I’m doing chi kung because I love my body and want it to heal. I’m getting stuck under my aunt’s bed and stepping on a mouse trap because I love her. Honestly, I think these actions were loving before, I just wasn’t acknowledging them as such and giving credit where credit was due because I was too busy focusing on what was “wrong.” But I’m finding there’s relief in recognizing the gifts you give to yourself and others, a lot of “letting your guard down,” a lot of “not being so hard on yourself,” a lot of “isn’t it nice to be home again?”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

When You Feel Like Giving Up (Blog #242)

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After forty-three straight days of having a life-draining, soul-sucking sinus infection, today I’ve felt like a new man. Last night I rubbed kimchi juice in my nostrils, and I’m assuming that’s what’s done the trick. It’s gotta be that or the hundred and one vitamins I’m taking. Currently I’m still having some allergy issues, still coughing, but despite the fact that I didn’t sleep much last night, my energy today has been off the charts. I’ve spent the last six weeks absolutely wiped out, tired behind the eyes all day long, but today I was awake for ten hours before I even thought the word “tired,” and then it was while walking up a broken escalator. (Talk about a tease.) So things aren’t “perfect,” but the difference between yesterday and today has been astounding. More than the physical improvements, I’ve been happy all day, walking around with my chest stuck out like a damn superhero just because I’ve felt close to normal. Y’all, it’s not something to take for granted.

This afternoon I saw my therapist, and whereas I’d planned to talk about how I was tired of being strong, how being sick for six weeks had almost completely drained me of hope, I ended up talking about how I put fermented food up my nose and woke up twelve hours later with the energy of Rainbow Brite. My therapist said she didn’t think it was an accident that I’d been spending so much time searching the internet and finally came across something that worked. She said, “I think you needed a win, and the universe gave you one.” Then she added that when you feel like giving up, that’s when you have to keep going, since help is probably just around the corner.

Personally, I think this is a shit deal and don’t know why life is set up this way. Don’t get me wrong–I’m thrilled and grateful beyond measure for the bacterial miracle I’m currently experiencing. This could seriously be a game-changer. Still, I’d like go on record as saying that I think it sucks when the universe drops you to your knees then turns right around and asks you to push a little harder. Just keep going, help is right around the corner. Like, couldn’t help move half a block and make my life easier? Not that anybody in charge asked for my opinion. As Byron Katie says, “You don’t get a vote.” So I guess we’re back to that idea–acceptance. I could wake up tomorrow and feel like a million bucks or I could be sicker than ever. Either way, what am I gonna do about that?

After therapy I spent most of the day reading. Then I went to the mall and looked around because my therapist said–when we were talking about pride–that I should wear a shirt with a single gold star on it, the implication being that I’m a gold-star gay. (A gold-star gay is a homosexual who’s never slept with a woman, Mom. A double-gold or platinum-star gay is a homosexual who was born by c-section, thus making him someone who’s never (ever) touched a vagina.) Anyway, the only shirt I could find with a star on it was red with a yellow star. But since I’m wanting to look like a homosexual and not a hot dog, I didn’t buy it.

I’m sure there’s some joke that could be made about “wiener” at this point, but I’m too tired to think of it. Plus, my mom reads this.

Tonight I decided to back off some of the vitamins I’m taking. First, I didn’t sleep well last night, and that’s unusual. Along the same lines, I’ve felt rather “hyped up” today. Second, my stomach has been a skosh upset. Well, the problem is that I’m taking ten different vitamins, so it’s hard to know what’s causing what or if they’re even a factor in what’s going on. Still, I’m not usually one to sit still on such matters, so I Googled the side effects for every single one of the vitamins. And whereas practically all of them can cause an upset stomach, only one of them can cause insomnia (echinacea). So I cut out echinacea for this evening, as well as vitamin c, since I was hitting that pretty hard and it’s the most famous for causing stomach problems if you go overboard.

As always, figuring this out feels like trying to ski down a mountain backwards and blindfolded.

Suddenly the sun breaks through the clouds.

I guess we all do the best we can. As the old hymn says, “One day at a time, sweet Jesus.” But even though I’m not a hundred percent better, I’ve been thinking, Oh well, I’ll get over this soon enough. I mean, if a six-week sinus infection can start to turn itself around in less than a day, anything really is possible. My therapist and I talked about this today and how it could apply to other aspects of life–like, say, blogging for free when you don’t have a job–the idea that you can grind it out day after day, then suddenly the sun breaks through the clouds. A dove appears–the storm is over. This, I think, is really good news. My personal squabbles with how everything is set up notwithstanding, life obviously doesn’t intend for anyone to stay down forever. Just when you’re ready to let go of hope, hope refuses to let go of you. Gripping you tightly it says, “All I ask is one more day.”

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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In Search of Flaxseed and Hope (Blog #241)

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Last night I went to Walmart for a bag of flaxseed and honestly spent thirty minutes looking for it. Since I did three full laps up and down every aisle and still didn’t have a bag of flaxseed in my hands, I can only imagine I looked like someone who was there strictly for the exercise. Eventually I thought to use the Walmart phone app, which tells you what aisle items are on if they’re in stock. Well, of course it was in stock–on the nut aisle. I’d walked past it three times. Can we say, “not observant”?

So sue me–I never claimed to be Columbo.

On the way to checkout, I saw a sign in the women’s clothing department for a company called NOBO, which apparently stands for No Boundaries. I didn’t look at any of their products, but I can only assume they think having no boundaries is a good thing. Who knows–maybe they make stretch pants. (Their slogan could be, “There’s no place we won’t go.”) But all I could think was, This is a terrible name for a company. Boundaries are a good thing. Boundaries are the holy grail! (My therapist said so.) I actually thought about screaming this right there next to the panties, bras, and girdles, but decided to just blog about it instead.

Last night I started taking a hundred and one vitamins to help boost my immune system and (hopefully) get rid of my six-week sinus infection, and this afternoon I woke up feeling just as bad as ever. My friend Margo commented on Facebook that I needed to give the vitamins a chance, that my level of patience was obviously nonexistent. I don’t disagree with her assessment, but I just want to feel better–now. Honestly, I think it would do us all a world of good–I’m sick of blogging about this, and I can only imagine you’re sick of reading about it.

Tomorrow I have to get up early for therapy. Determined to get some rest, I told myself I was going to blog this afternoon and get it over with. Currently it’s 11:15 PM, so that obviously didn’t happen. Still, this start time is a lot better than my usual two in the morning. With any luck, I’ll be in bed in no time. But the point is I got distracted this afternoon because I started reading more about sinus infections on the internet. (Well, in people’s noses, but you understand.) Surprisingly, I found a website I’ve never heard of before, and it contained some information that may help me kick this thing in the butt.

The plot thickens. (Like my mucus.)

The website (and some others I found) basically said that many people who suffer from chronic sinus infections are missing a bacteria in their sinuses, specifically, L. sakei. It also said that the biome of bacteria in our sinuses is different from the one in our stomachs, so even if most probiotics included L. sakei (which they don’t), it wouldn’t help to take them. Rather, one needs to introduce the bacteria into their nose directly. Oh good, I thought, I have a finger. Now, where can I find this stuff?

As it turns out, L. sakei by itself is hard to come by, although it is used in meat-packing and sold by a company in New Zealand. However–and this is where it gets interesting–it’s often (but not always) found in kimchi, the Korean superfood that’s basically fermented cabbage. That’s right, people on the internet say you can actually heal a sinus infection by rubbing kimchi juice on the insides of your nostrils “like a really messy eater.” The idea is that once it’s in your nose, the new bacteria will grow, kill the bad bacteria, and give you your freaking life back.

Well I’ll try anything once. I mean, so far I’ve put baby shampoo and hydrogen peroxide up my nose–what’s a little food juice? Honestly, of all the things I’ve read on the internet about sinus infections, the idea that my body is missing an important bacteria makes the most sense. I’m not a scientist, but why else would my body have such a problem fighting this infection when everything else is working?

With this logic in mind, I set out this evening in search of any and all kimchi I could find. I quickly discovered that Walmart only carries one brand of kimchi, and since it wasn’t one of the ones listed on the website and I like to follow rules, I ended up going to three–three–Asian markets. Y’all, Asian markets are really fascinating. First, I felt super tall because the shelves were lower than what I’m used to. Second, I’ve never seen so much soy sauce in all my life. Lastly, there were dead fish up and down every aisle (basically just lying around like decoration), and since they had eyeballs, I felt extremely conspicuous. But I digress. I ended up with two different brands of kimchi. Neither of them were on the list either, and neither of them had a “manufactured on” date (which is good to know because L. sakei doesn’t show up in the fermentation process right away), but I decided I was doing the best I could.

So far I’ve rubbed the kimchi juice in my nostrils twice. Currently I’m still coughing and tired, but I’m not worn out like I was this afternoon. Maybe it’s the kimchi–maybe it’s the vitamins or simply taking a shower and getting out of the house–but I do think I feel better. At the very least I feel optimistic. I read a lot of stories this afternoon about people just like me who have suffered for a long time, and it’s reassuring to know that something eventually worked for them. As I think about it now, maybe I am like Columbo, doing all this detective work, digging around the internet in search of crazy solutions that, like the clothes at Walmart, have no boundaries. (Don’t throw those leftovers away, you can put them up your nose!) And whereas I’ll have to get back to you on whether or not I actually found a solution today, I can say that I found some hope, and that’s no small thing. So to anyone in search of flaxseed or hope–whatever you do–do stop looking until you find it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

"

My Fickle Mistress (Blog #240)

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This afternoon I went to a natural health food store in search of vitamins to heal my sinus infection and wanted to slit my wrists within two minutes of walking in the door. You know how employees try to be helpful. Well, the lady working the front desk started asking all these questions. What seems to be the problem? What’s wrong with you? So I told her about my sinus infection, and she was off and running, picking up bottles of anti-allergy pills and probiotics. “But we need to get to the root of the problem,” she said. “It’s probably your house. I had one lady whose house was filled with mold. Maybe that’s your problem–you’re house sick.”

“Well, I’ve lived in three different houses in the last year and have been sick in every one of them, so I don’t think that’s it.”

Then she started talking about the need for regular elimination. I thought, I swear, I just met this person, and she’s already talking about my bowel movements. “That’s not a problem,” I said. “I’m very regular.” Refusing to quit, she picked up a book about fasting that looked like it came over on the Mayflower. “I was just reading about what a miracle fasting is–it’ll even cure asthma.” I’m pretty sure I rolled my eyes. “That’s perfect–just don’t eat.”

“Exactly,” she said.

Well–thank god–another customer asked for her help, and that gave me a chance to breathe. Y’all, I hope I’m not coming across like a total ass, but I get so frustrated with “those people” who work at health food stores. I mean, not all of them, but you know the ones–the ones who walk around with their noses in the air because their underwear is made out of hemp and they haven’t eaten a donut since Carter was president. Like, this lady asked me about my diet and actually said, “You don’t eat dairy, DO YOU?” I mean, I’m all for cutting out certain foods to be healthier, and I’ll be the first to admit that I diet for vanity, but don’t act like you’re better than me because you don’t put milk in your organic coffee.

Since I actually showed up with a list of products suggested in the sinus book I’ve been reading, I looked around the store for a while. The main product I was looking for was a particular type of garlic, since garlic is supposed to be a natural antibiotic and anti-fungal. Well, the store didn’t have it. “But we have all these other types of garlic right over here,” the lady said. “I have one customer who swears by fenugreek and thyme. Now where did THAT bottle go? We must be out–I’ll call our supplier.”

“You don’t have to,” I said, “I’m not going to buy it. I’m really more interested in the garlic.”

She picked up the phone. “We’ll need some eventually.”

Frustrated on every level, I left the store. I guess part of it was that I’ve spent so much time and money in stores like that one over the years. Everyone promises their favorite product will help you, and when you’re sick, you’ll believe anything. Cod liver oil is different than snake oil, right? Oh, it’s not? That’s okay, you can still have my money. Sadly, most the things I’ve purchased haven’t made a dramatic difference. Y’all, I didn’t set out to be such a cynic. But–honestly–I’ve had dozens upon dozens of sinus infections over the last twenty years–I’ve been sick with this sinus infection for six weeks–don’t tell me I’d suddenly be better if I squirted grapefruit seed extract up my nose. (I’ve already tried that.) Also, the last thing I need is for a total stranger to judge me for going to a medical doctor by saying, “You took an antibiotic?!”

As if being sick were my fault because I did.

For a while I considered driving to Fayetteville to look for that specific brand of garlic, then I considered ditching the whole project and ordering everything online. But something said go to The Vitamin Shoppe, so that’s what I did. Y’all, it was perfect. The girl behind the counter said hello but didn’t once ask if she could help. Rather, she left me alone for an entire hour, during which I consulted the list on my phone, looked around the shelves, and decided what to do. During the process, I calmed down about the lady at the other place and decided I didn’t have to have that one brand of garlic. I thought, I’m just going to do the best I can. Besides, this isn’t magic–it’s magnesium.

When it was all said and done, I had eight bottles of stuff, give or take. Thankfully, except for the Vitamin C, it was all cheaper than I’d anticipated, and some of it was even on sale for Black Friday. Still, I was a bit overwhelmed by all the bottles (I’ve done it again–I’m one of those people), so I swung by Walmart on the way home to get a pill caddy to organize everything. (I also swung by my aunt’s to do some odd jobs and took the above photo with her dog, Nick.) Anyway, you know what kind of pill caddy I’m talking about–the color-coded kind for every day of the week, the kind both my parents have that I’ve previously looked down upon.

Well shit. Now I’m one of THOSE PEOPLE too.

When I got home I organized my pill caddy and watched The National Dog Show by Purina with my parents. (It’s a sexy life, but someone’s gotta live it.) As of ten minutes ago, I’ve taken two fists full of vitamins, and I’m currently convinced I wasted my money this afternoon. I don’t feel a bit better. I mean, I’m hopeful, but what if this doesn’t work either?

Bodies are fickle mistresses.

This morning my friend Elisabeth sent me a beautiful devotion about not beating yourself when you get sick. It quoted the writer Flannery O’Connor as referring to her battle with lupus as “one of God’s mercies.” To me this means that seen correctly, a challenge can be a great teacher. This afternoon my dad spoke with a long-lost family friend and found out he’d been paralyzed from the chest down. When it first happened our friend was bitter, but he told my dad that prayer had become really important to him. Now he says, “If I had to choose between prayer and having my legs back, I’d choose prayer.” So even as I get irritated with store clerks and swallowing fists full of vitamins, I’m trying to remember that we all have our difficulties and teachers. What’s more, I’m reminded that bodies are fickle mistresses–they give and they take away. But I do believe that some things are more faithful than that, or at least give more than a body every could.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

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The Headless Horseman and Dreams of Healing (Blog #239)

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After two days of feeling good about the world, I and my positive mental outlook took a nosedive today. Nosedive is an appropriate word, since my melancholy mood is directly related to my sinus infection, which apparently is not going away like I thought it was. I can breathe–that’s a good thing–but all day I’ve continued to cough, deal with drainage, and suffer from lethargy. I can’t tell you how frustrating this is. I’m literally punching the keys on my laptop as we speak, and I’m considering using a baseball bat to knock my own head off. Actually, I bet that’s what happened to the headless horseman–he probably had sinus infections for years, got sick of them one day, and decided to replace his face with a pumpkin.

No wonder he was angry.

The day itself has been delightful. I got plenty of rest last night, the weather has been gorgeous, and I got to go for a long walk. On top of those things, there’s still leftover pie in the refrigerator, so life isn’t all bad. I just keep wishing I had more energy, although I’m not exactly sure what I’d be doing with it if I had it. I mean, when I wasn’t walking or eating pie today, I was reading, which is probably what I would have done even if I’d felt like a million bucks. Flipping pages doesn’t exactly require a lot of stamina. Still, no one likes to feel as if they’re running on an empty tank of gas.

Putt, putt, putt–clunk.

Last week I had a dream that I was looking at my right hand as if it were under an x-ray machine. Inside my hand were loose bones–not like broken bones, but extra ones, kind of floating around. This is where the dream gets fuzzy, but I think it was like a game of Operation–I was trying to get everything in place. Anyway, today while I was walking, I listened to a lecture on Jungian dream interpretation by Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes, and she described dreams as “letters from home.” To me this means that dreams are messages from a deeper, wiser part of ourselves and are sent to us to help make us whole.

As for actual dream interpretation, the lecture said to start by writing down your dreams. Then it said to identify all the nouns, then write down what you associate with each noun. Finally, rewrite your dream, but put the associations in place of their respective nouns. For example, the nouns in my dream were my right hand (writer, getting things done, control), an x-ray machine (to look inside, see what’s really going on), and bones (structure, solid, strength). I’ll get to the interpretation later, but I believe this method is exactly how my therapist works with dreams. Of course, it’s always nice to have ideas reinforced and explained in different ways.

This evening I read some more in the book I started earlier this week about sinus problems. Honestly, I’m having to take it slow because it’s a lot of information, and–frankly–overwhelming. As the book suggests a holistic approach, there are a lot of recommendations, and it’s difficult for my inner rule follower to figure out which ones are “required.” Like, if the book lists six vitamins that are good for boosting the immune system, do I really have to go out and buy all six? Because I could easily overdo things and go broke super fast. Plus, I’ve been that person who’s had fifty bottles of vitamins and minerals before, and I hate being that person. I’m definitely willing to try again, but I’ve got to find a balance this time.

After reading the book, I went to Walgreens, Walmart, and CVS in search of a suggested herbal sinus rinse that’s been around for over a hundred years. (CVS had it.) So far I’ve tried it once and am equal parts hopeful and pessimistic. I told my mom that I feel like a sucker for trying everything under the sun, but that I have to try something because my antibiotic runs out tomorrow, and it obviously isn’t getting the job done anyway. (Sorry, cephalosporin, but you’re not.) “I don’t think you’re a sucker,” Mom said. “I just think you want to feel better.”

My god, do I ever.

Tonight I’ve been wondering if I have the strength to fight this sinus infection, to rally the troops and try something else–then something else if that doesn’t work. Part of me definitely thinks no–no I don’t. I’m worn out. But another part of me thinks yes. Already tonight I’ve been thinking about some of the book’s suggestions, and I’m considering holistic doctors I could work with so I don’t have to do this alone. Actually, I just took a break from blogging to look at options online. And whereas I normally feel as if I’ve exhausted all my options, it now seems as if there are a million things I haven’t tried. A day after Thanksgiving, I’m grateful for these options–overwhelmed, but grateful nonetheless. Surely something will work. I’m also grateful for what this infection has brought me–a better diet, a smaller waistline, a ton of new information, and plenty of compassion for anyone with a chronic problem.

So, thank you, sinus infection–you may go now.

As I finished my walk tonight, I watched the sunset and thought about the meaning of the dream I had. Personally, I think the image of the x-ray of my right hand is fascinating–the way it had to do with looking inside myself to see what’s really going on in terms of writing, getting things done, and being in control. The fact that there weren’t any broken bones, obviously, was a good thing. Rather, there were new bones, new growth. This tells me that I have more structure and strength than I realize and that things are coming into place. So I’m reminding myself that if there’s a wisdom that makes the sun set and sends me dreams to help make me whole, then surely that wisdom can guide me toward healing and provide the strength I’m not always sure I have to get there.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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 Beautiful isn’t something that comes in a particular package. Beautiful is simply being yourself.

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I Can Still Taste the Deviled Eggs (Blog #238)

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It’s nice living back home for the holidays. Today is Thanksgiving, and this morning I could hear my parents up and about before I got out of bed. Having not quite figured out the power of technology, Dad was yelling into the phone as if it were a tin can with a string attached to the bottom. Mom was running up and down the hallway. Ten minutes after my alarm had gone off, she knocked on my door–time to get up. If it’d been any other day, I would have headed straight for the kitchen. Instead I took a shower and put on some clean clothes, intentionally starving myself in preparation for The Big Meal.

When I was a kid we used to pile in the car and spend Thanksgiving at Grandma and Grandpa’s. The adults would sit at one table, the kids would sit at another, and I can still taste the deviled eggs. Grandpa always made oyster dressing, Grandma made a mean pumpkin pie, and at least once it was all served up on paper plates with plastic forks. It made for easy cleanup, of course, but it was anything but fancy. If only I’d come out sooner, I could have insisted on china and proper flatware.

In the grand scheme of things, it’s a small regret.

I do think there’s something magical about the holidays, and I don’t just mean the deals on Black Friday. I think there’s literally something in the air. Even if there’s family drama, families get together and people try. Sometimes they fail miserably, of course, but at the very least, they eat together. More often than not, everyone is on their best behavior, the food is delicious, and no one’s in a hurry to leave. This is the magic I’m talking about–it’s like time slows down. Cars linger in the driveway, eating gets stretched out for hours, fathers fall asleep on couches.

This year my family opted for eating out, which–if you think about it–is a convenient way to celebrate the pilgrims without having having to clean the oven. Anyway, we piled as many people as we could into my car, Tom Collins, and pulled into the parking lot of Furr’s Fresh Buffet in Fort Smith at 2:23 PM. Y’all, there were so many people there was a line out the double doors. It took fifteen minutes just to make it inside, and then the lady behind the cash register said, “I’m going to need you to stand against the wall while you wait.” It was like she was herding cattle. I could have sworn I was at the state fair. The only thing missing was a sign that said, “Must be this tall to ride” in front of the salad bar.

It took a while, but our party of eight eventually got seated together. One by one we took to the crowded buffet lines, filling our plates with turkey, corn on the cob, and mashed potatoes, all warmed by high-powered heat lamps. Back at the table, my Aunt Tudie had a plate full of stuffing. My dad (her brother) said, “Why did you put ranch dressing on that?”

“Well shit,” she said, “I thought it was gravy.”

For over an hour we ate and visited, ate and visited. Our drink waiter–a guy–kept calling the women at our table “honey,” so I made the assumption that he was gay. Not really something you hear many straight men say in the south. (Right, sugar?) Anyway, I did a lot of people watching. Just in the time we were at the restaurant, there must have been hundreds of customers come and go. It was like every person in the tri-state area had come out for the mediocre pumpkin pie and endless refills of soft-serve ice cream. I kept thinking, Was NO ONE here willing to cook?

My Aunt Carla (my dad’s other sister) said, “I just want to know what I have to do to get on your blog.”

“Just take a selfie with me,” I said. “It’s really that simple.”

After The Big Meal, everyone else went their separate ways, and Mom, Dad, Aunt Tudie, and I came back to our house for coffee and pie. Y’all, this was the first dessert I’ve had in three weeks–so good. My insulin didn’t know what to do. Anyway, for a couple hours, Dad and Aunt Tudie talked, Mom surfed the internet, and I read a book in the oversized chair I’m about to pass out in now. (It’s four in the morning.) Then my aunt went home, and Mom and Dad and I binge-watched recorded episodes of Will and Grace for over two hours. Considering we’re all pretty much retired, this is something we could technically have done any day of the year. Still, since we did it on Thanksgiving, it felt special.

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

Again, this is the magic I’m talking about, the way we slow down and spend time with each other. All my grandparents are gone now, and it’s funny–sometimes I don’t remember what their voices sounded like. But I remember Grandpa called everyone “children,” and Grandma kept her teeth on the bathroom counter just as much as she kept them in her mouth. Honestly, it doesn’t matter to me what kind of plates we ate on back then. Twenty years from now I won’t care whether we ate at home or went to a buffet this afternoon. I didn’t care this afternoon–we were together. What’s important is not where you are, but whom you are there with. This is what makes some days more special than others, the thing that makes time slow down, the thing that makes the taste of deviled eggs stay with you.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It’s enough just to be here.

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