Currently I’m a solid two hours into my self-imposed “No Facebook Mondays” boundary. Part of me thinks it’s no big deal and is actually excited for the break. Like, my thumb wasn’t made for that much scrolling anyway. Another part of me is shaking and on edge, like whenever I quit cigarettes. I keep picking up my phone out of habit then immediately putting it back down out of sheer willpower. Find something else to do, Marcus. Okay, two hours and ten minutes. To remove temptation, I just closed out the Facebook tab on my browser. Now it’s just me and my feelings. Shit. This could be a long day.
This afternoon I completed my first online yoga session with Codyapp. I cussed a lot, but it felt great. The guy said it can take six months to two years to reshape your fascia, and I kind of hate that taking care of yourself is such a long-term commitment. Still, one day is one day, and a start is a start.
I’m proud to say that in the last twenty-four hours I’ve watched half of season three of Grace and Frankie, which stars Jane Fonda, Lily Tomlin, Martin Sheen, and Sam Waterston. If you don’t know, it’s about two women (a yuppie and a hippy) who become close friends after their husbands divorce them in order to marry each other. In season three, the women start their own business, selling vibrators to aging ladies. I don’t know what it is about hearing Jane Fonda say, “Fuck me in the eye,” or Lily Tomlin say, “Christ on a cupcake,” but I laughed out loud all day today. I don’t remember the last time that happened. It’s been almost better than therapy.
Almost.
This evening I went for a walk and continued to listen to a series of lectures on archetypes by Caroline Myss. The theory is that everyone has twelve primary archetypes or energetic patterns of behavior. Four of those twelve are common to all of us (The Child, The Victim, The Prostitute, and The Saboteur), and eight are unique to you or me. Whenever you meet someone and immediately classify them as a diva, a bully, a shaman, an angel, or a martyr, you’re talking about one of their archetypes. Anyway, tonight Caroline discussed the storyteller archetype, which I believe is one of my eight. Of course, we all tell stories, but for some of us everything is a story. Even when somebody cheats on us or we gain three pounds, we think, I can blog about this later.
Two things mentioned about the storyteller archetype stood out to me. First, every archetype has a light side and a shadow side. As an example, Cinderella’s fairy godmother is the light side of the mother archetype, and her evil step-mother is the shadow. Anyway, Caroline says the shadow side of the storyteller is the liar, or, in more mild cases, the exaggerator. Of course, I’ve had my own moments outside the light, but my mind immediately went to a couple people I know who seem to lie about anything. Like, they lie when the truth would serve them better, and I guess until tonight I never really understood it. Oh, that’s it, I thought, they’re just misusing their god-given talents (powers).
The other thing that stood out to me was the idea that whenever we’re in a difficult situation, even if we can’t change it, we can tell ourselves a different story about it. We can say, “Once upon a time, there was a prince who returned to his parents’ kingdom to rest and find his way again. Each night he’d write a letter to himself that he’d post for all to see. This was his way of healing and growing strong as he awaited his next adventure.”
Or something like that.
Caroline says this is actually healthy. We’re all going to tell ourselves a story about our circumstances anyway, and something akin to a fairy tale is much more beneficial than, “This sucks, God hates me, and no one will ever love my sagging breasts.” In medieval, alchemical terms, taking a negative situation and finding the good in it is compared to turning lead into gold. One obvious benefit to doing this is that we’re happier, since we’re not, say, still bitter about something that happened twenty days or twenty years ago. But Caroline says turning the lead in our lives into gold–or not–can actually affect how our physical bodies heal. In short, the idea is that mental and emotional lead (resentments, grudges, worries) keep us out of the present moment, which is where the spirit resides and the physical body best functions.
After my walk I did an exercise in my creativity workbook where I had to list ways in which I nourish myself. Y’all, it was difficult. My mind immediately went to the books I read and even the yoga class I started today, but–and I’m about to get real honest here–those things always have a twinge of “should” about them. Although I do enjoy them, they’re largely motivated by the thought, I need to do this so my life and body will be better. (I hate it when I realize I’m being rough on myself.) So I took a few deep breaths and decided to take a hot bath. I put on some music, lit a candle. Afterwards I did some exercises for my neck and listened to “Let It Be” by The Beatles on repeat.
Now I’m thinking that I can be gentler with myself, give myself the mental room I need to grow. I can tell myself a different story. I’ve been saying that I have to read, have to heal. But I love reading, learning, and yoga. So I’m actually doing these things because I want to and because I care for myself. Not only is that a different, kinder story, it’s the truth. And I can look at No Facebook Mondays as some sort of prison, or I can see it as a freedom, more time to watch shows that make me laugh or–even better–spend time with friends I love–in person. Once again I’m finding it’s not what’s “out there” that matters, but rather what’s “in here.” In here is where you tell yourself the story about what’s out there. In here is where you turn lead into gold.
Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)
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All great heroes, at some point, surrender to the unknown.
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