On the End of Innocence (Blog #881)

Today I saw both my therapist and my acupuncturist, but not at the same time, so let’s talk about my acupuncturist first. (Here we go.) She mainly worked on my neck and shoulders, since those are my chief complaints. Like the last time I saw her, she stuck needles in me (it’s kind of her thing), then stuck (sucked) cups to my skin to help release tight fascia. This last process, called cupping, is one I continue to be fascinated by. Supposedly the spots the turn the darkest are the ones that need the most help/are getting the most benefit from the treatment. Anyway, check out the purple spots on either side of my neck in the photo below. I look like I’ve got two serious hickeys.

If only I were so lucky.

Here’s a close-up (Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close-up), of one of the purple spots. Yowza. Thankfully, none of the bruises hurt.

Honestly, I don’t know how much acupuncture and cupping are helping me. Neither thing is a miracle. That being said, most things aren’t, and I do think at least one if not both of the treatments are beneficial. That is, my shoulder has been better since my last treatment, and my neck has felt “looser” today. Even if this weren’t the case, I see my acupuncturist as another member of my healing team (it takes a village), not someone who has ALL the answers, but someone who has a unique set of skills and a certain knowledge base (that I don’t have). Today I asked my acupuncturist about a long-standing, off-and-on problems I’ve had for the last few years (body odor), and although I thought I’d “tried everything,” she recommended something new. So, as my therapist is fond of saying, I’m giving it a whirl.

Speaking of my therapist, today we talked about, among other things, business and negotiation. I told her I was bothered because I recently bought some supplies at a salvage store and felt sort-of taken advantage of. I’ll explain. The supplies I wanted weren’t marked with a price, and the salesman said, “I won’t charge you much.” Then he (we) walked all the way back to the front desk with the stuff in hand, and he finally quoted me a price. “Just x bucks,” he said. Well, it was more than I was expecting, but just by ten dollars, so I didn’t say anything. At the same time, my intuition absolutely knew he was pulling an old okie-doke on me. But I thought, Hell, I want this stuff. So I paid it.

Later I did some research, and I don’t think I got robbed or anything. Actually, it was an okay deal. Now, a GOOD deal (for both of us) would have been ten dollars cheaper. A GREAT deal (for me) would have been fifteen dollars cheaper. My therapist said, “It wasn’t about the money. What bothered you is that you didn’t say anything–like, ‘How about ten dollars less?'”

“I didn’t know that was an option,” I said. “I guess I was caught off guard.”

My therapist said she’s never a fan of the hard sell. “But I’m also not a fan of the quick sale,” she said, “and the fact that the guy rushed you through the process was a red flag.”

The advice my therapist offered to me (and that I’m offering to you) was to take a minute to center myself before any business interaction. Recently I had a business meeting in which I wanted something specific and was lucky enough to meet with my therapist first. She said, “I know you want this, but you don’t NEED it because you have LOTS of options. So go into this DETACHED.” Then we figured out what I was willing to accept and what I was not willing to accept. Anyway, today she said I could do this on my own before I go into any store or sit down to talk business with anyone. Had I done this before RUSHING into the salvage store, I would have known–This is how much I want to spend, and if it’s more than that, I’m willing to ask for less or simply walk away.

Because (I’m learning), you can always walk away. You’re never OBLIGATED to buy anything.

Even something you want.

My therapist said that for the cheap cost of ten bucks, I learned a pretty important lesson–to go into things with my eyes wide open, ready for anything. “I’ve known a lot of people who have learned that lesson but with two or three extra zeros attached to it,” she said. Yesterday I spoke about the stories we tell ourselves, and this is another example of how you can use your words to shape your reality. What I mean is that rather than beating myself up for not being more on my toes, I’m telling myself this is a chance for me to learn something that may (will) come in handy down the road. Several years ago I dated a MASTER manipulator, liar, and cheater, and you better bet that experience has not gone to waste on me. I can’t tell you the number of times since that I’ve been attracted to someone and then–upon observing their behavior–thought, Wait a damn minute. I’ve seen this before. Bye.

Today I finished reading Sheldon B. Kopp’s An End to Innocence, which is about how growing up and being responsible for yourself means just that. That is, the end of innocence is the death of your illusions and fairy tales, your childlike notions and wishes that anyone (your parents, a lover, a spouse, a great uncle, a doctor, a god, or the lottery) will take care of you. It’s the death of the idea that life is fair, good things happen to good people, and anything on the fucking planet makes sense. And whereas I’d debate the use of the word innocence (I’d prefer “the end of naivety” because I associate innocence with pureness of heart or the lack of guilt), I agree with the overall idea. Suck it up, Nancy. Life isn’t for sissies. That being said, I consider myself lucky because I do have a team, people who help me out. But this is the deal, the part that sucks. They don’t–can’t–heal for me. They can’t speak up for me. That’s my job.

That’s your job for you.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Anything and everything is possible.

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Everyone Has Pus to Deal With (Blog #245)

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)

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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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