After the Breaking (Blog #516)

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Last night after flying in from DC, I slept at my Aunt Terri’s house in Tulsa, and this morning while trying to figure out her damn espresso machine, I broke the handle off one of her coffee cups. SHHH–don’t say anything. She’s currently at work, and I haven’t told her yet. Anyway, ironically, the cup said, “Life is good.”

Is it? I thought, staring at the broken handle. IS IT?!

Fortunately, unlike me and many of my past relationships, the cup and its handle made a clean break. Also fortunately, I happen to travel with super glue, which I keep in my lesbian toolbox in the back of my car, Tom Collins. So after I scrambled some eggs, made coffee in ANOTHER cup, and ate my breakfast, I glued the broken cup back together, temporarily holding the handle against the cup with a couple of rubber bands I found in a drawer.

There. That was easy.

This morning before waking up, I had a series of dreams. Having chewed on them a good part of this afternoon, I’ll spare you a lot of the details and focus on what I think is most important. First, I began backstage at a theater. I was up high in the shadows, watching. Then I was on the ground floor in a rehearsal space that was brighter and was practicing a cartwheel-type move with a woman. Then I was outside on a large deck in the full light, practicing the same move with a man, who was more powerful and confident than the woman was. Because of his strength, I was concerned he was going to flip me off the deck into the mud–or the unfinished yard–below. Finally, I was in my friend Mary’s kitchen, next to a refrigerator (a common dream symbol for me).

At first glance, I took this dream to be about my work life and being prepared, since first I was watching in the shadows (learning by watching), then I was rehearsing (learning by doing, gently), then I was literally “on deck” or getting ready to do (with power). As for the mud and rocks, I see them as representing the unknown, the unfinished, or that which is to come. Since I relate refrigerators to stored energy or potential, all this would make sense and is probably true. But as dreams can have multiple meanings, I’m considering another possibility, largely due to a statement I read in a book yesterday that said both dreams and life communicate with us through REDUNDANCY. In other words, the universe repeats itself.

In other words, the universe repeats itself.

As I understand it, the idea behind this concept is that when your subconscious is wanting to get a point across, it will bring it to your attention through multiple avenues, including dreams, symbols, experiences, and bodily sensations. With this in mind, I now interpret all of my dreams last night from the viewpoint of “things coming together.” First, the dreams were filled with images of opposites–shadow and light, male and female, inside and outside, confidence and concern. With all these pairs there was a joining, some sort of stage or platform where they–what’s the word?–played together. Even the mud can be seen as a “coming together” of the opposites earth and water. Likewise, a kitchen is where ingredients are joined, and all the more sense that the kitchen in my dream belonged to a woman named Mary–or rather–Marry. (Dreams often speak in puns.)

According to the book I’m reading, since the universe speaks in redundancy, it sends us the same messages in our waking life as it does our sleeping one. If this is true (and I believe it is), it would make sense that immediately after having these dreams about “coming together,” I would break a cup–where?–in my aunt’s KITCHEN and then join the broken pieces back together. Of course, this whole affair is even more stunning for me, since that’s what I think this blog is about–repairing those parts of myself that have been broken off along the way.

Aunt Terri, I’m sorry your hopefully-not-favorite mug had to be sacrificed in order to serve as an illustration of the process I’m going through.

If all this isn’t weird enough, things have gotten even weirder as the day has gone on. For one thing, as I was cleaning up after breakfast, I noticed a bag in my Aunt Terri’s kitchen that said, “Bring your table to life.” And whereas the actual meaning, I think, has to do with bringing LIFE to your table (by putting the company’s food or products on it), I like the slogan literally just as well. Bring YOUR TABLE to life. In other words, start exactly where you are, with all your shadows and broken pieces, then find a way to animate yourself. Find a way to JOIN your shadow to The Light. Find a way to put your broken pieces back together.

I spent this afternoon here in Tulsa looking for books at a fabulous bookstore. And whereas I didn’t find anything I was looking for, I did find two books I WASN’T looking for. Anyway, when I finished book-looking, I went to a Panera Bread (where I am now), since I really haven’t felt superior today and figured coffee would help animate ME. Well, I’ll be damned if I wasn’t just about to get out of my car when I looked over and saw a business named RESURRECT. (It’s a resale store.) And maybe some would call it a coincidence, but I choose to see it–once again–as the universe communicating, since RESURRECTION is what happens after THE SACRIFICE of your old life. It’s what happens after THE BREAKING. Resurrection is the coming back together or The Joining. It’s your new cup. It’s your new life.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

Along the way you’ll find yourself, and that’s the main thing, the only thing there really is to find.

"

The Bottleneck (Blog #508)

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Last night I dreamed that I was running in Dallas–of all places–and couldn’t quite pick up my feet. I’ve had dreams like this before, like, I’m not moving as fast as I want to. But this time I was lost. I couldn’t quite find where I was supposed to be going (my hotel, I think). I checked my GPS, and it provided the correct route–a straight shot up the interstate. HOWEVER there was a huge traffic jam–a bottleneck–six lanes of traffic trying to squeeze into one. Finally it cleared up. Just like that, all the cars and me (on foot!) were flowing through. No longer lost or jammed up like we were before. On our way as if nothing had happened.

Currently it’s four in the afternoon, and I’ve only been up for a couple of hours, since–again–I worked late last night helping some friends pack for an upcoming move. We’re getting SO close to done. As we’re working again this evening and I have a myriad of other things to do before then, I seriously need to keep this short. I feel like I’ve been saying this a lot lately–I’m in a rush–I don’t have to write–I don’t have time to read–I don’t have time to wipe my ass. Ugh. It’s so frustrating. No wonder my stomach has been upset.

“It’s stress,” my friend, who’s a pharmacist, said last night. “Everything is stress.”

No kidding. If I had to describe last night’s dream in one word, that would be it–stress. It’s just the worst sensation to feel like you’re not moving fast enough or like you’re all jammed up. That’s what it feels like lately–the bottleneck–like I have so much going on, and I’m not sure any of it’s getting me anywhere. Plus, my body still isn’t back to normal. I’m dragging, forcing myself at times. Last night one of my friends said, “How are you functioning?” and I said, “Willpower. It’s just willpower.”

In last night’s dream there was a brief pause, something that happened between the huge traffic jam and everything clearing up. I don’t know, it was like a rest, a break in the bottleneck, when everyone collectively realized how crazy it was to force-force-force the situation rather than letting it flow. And that’s when it worked, when we stopped trying to push every little damn thing. That’s when we were on our way again. So maybe I can stop pushing too. Maybe I can stop trying to run so fast and simply walk instead. Or maybe I can stop completely, watch other people go first, and think, I’ll be on my way soon enough–yes, it will be just like that–as if nothing had happened.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"The heart sings for its own reasons."

On Life’s Seasons (Blog #484)

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It’s nine in the morning, and I’m still in Somewhere, California. I survived the night and actually got some rest. I just went down to the lobby to grab coffee, and this motel appears better in the daytime. Not great, but better. From the looks of it, the only thing this city offers is a pit stop. Just a place to gas up and rest your head on your way to a better place. For me, that better place is San Francisco, which I plan to roll into later this afternoon. I’m blogging now so that I can have time to get there, maybe explore some used book stores, and find my bearings before the dance tonight.

Not last night but the night before, I dreamed that I was in a large, decorated warehouse that was mostly green–green walls, green comforter on the bed, green everything. Hanging from the ceilings were a few orange and red flags. The owners asked my opinion, and I said, “There’s too much green. It needs balance. More fall colors.” Later, I was in a swamp, and several people were carrying a casket. (This is where things get violent.) Then I took out a shotgun and shot the pallbearers. Blew their faces right off.

It was an absolute blood bath.

Frightening, I know, but–upon waking–I actually thought that last part was delightful. My therapist says that dead bodies in dreams represent the parts of your psyche that are no longer beneficial or helpful, and in mythology blood always represents new life. So the fact that I was taking a shotgun to the pallbearers (whom I generalize as “not useful” and just there for looks), tells me that I’m done with being fake (both personally and with regard to others). Give me something new, something real.

I’ve been reading about the stars and seasons lately, and there’s a lot of talk about festivals. In spring we have easter to commemorate new life, and in fall there is (or at least used to be) Michaelmas, a celebration of the Archangel Michael that honors the end of the growing season. In the Jewish tradition there’s Passover in the spring and the Feast of Tabernacles in the fall. But the point remains the same–there’s a time for spring and a time for fall, a time to be born and a time to die. Balance.

Endings are just as important as beginnings.

With this background in mind, I think the two dreams I had were communicating the same thing. In the first one, part of my consciousness was saying, “There’s too much growth (green) in your life. You need more death (more fall colors.)” In the second dream, it was more obvious. Grab a shotgun! I don’t mean to be morbid here. It’s not that I’m celebrating death. But I am starting to recognize that ENDINGS are just as important as beginnings. In fact, they’re necessary for beginnings. If I hadn’t divested myself of most of my worldly possessions, how would I have room for whatever is coming to take their place? How could the spring occur without first the fall occurring and then the long, cold winter?

Primitive people recognized this fact. It’s gross, but it’s why they sacrificed, why they were cannibals. Death makes room for more life. Endings create beginnings.

Sometimes I worry that I won’t get to wherever it is that I’m going. It’s not that I don’t see progress in my interior and external life, but it’s like I get to a pit stop and think, What if I don’t get to my better place? But surely the planets never think this way, wondering whether or not they are in the right place at the right time. I’m in such a hurry to be “somewhere else,” to get to my summer, my sweet spot, but I’m reminded that even the earth couldn’t rush her seasons if she tried. So I’m going to try to follow her example, to stay steady and sure in my orbit, to let my seasons come and go, to give each one its due respect.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

I believe that God is moving small universes to communicate with me and with all of us, answering prayers and sending signs in unplanned moments, the touch of a friend's hand, and the very air we breathe.

"

In Unexpected Places (Blog #457)

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Because I have other things I’d like to do besides blog, today I’m keeping this short by writing a list of things for which I am grateful. Although all related to the last twenty-four hours, they are in random order.

1. The “Do good” wall

The above photo, me in front of a wall that says, “Do good,” was taken just down the street from where I’m staying in Springfield. I used a brick I found nearby to prop my phone up for a selfie, then spent fifteen minutes trying to take a picture of myself doing a cartwheel. Proof that you don’t need money, Marcus, to enjoy yourself.

But it wouldn’t hurt, would it?

2. Understanding

This morning while reading a book by PL Travers (the lady who wrote Mary Poppins), I came across this phrase–long stretches of nothingness. It reminded me that it’s normal, perhaps necessary, to have times in your life when it feels as if nothing is happening.

3. Recognition

After lunch today, I told my friend Matt that the truth was that all sorts of things are happening in my life right now. They’re just on the inside, where they’re not as obvious to other people.

4. Chocolate Cake

Last night after cleaning the studio downstairs, we all had chocolate cake. Anne let me lick the knife, then this morning while reading my book, I had another piece for breakfast, with coffee. My pants are tight, but life is good.

5. Sleeping in

I slept in until noon today.

6. Dreams

Last night I had a series of dreams, all of which I think are connected. I don’t want to go into them, but the dreams ended with my telling two people in the last dream (who looked good on the outside but were also lying and manipulative) to “GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!” This was in an office, and I even waved my arm dramatically toward the door. Then the office manager came in and said, “Would you calm down? There are women here.” And I said, “It’s over!”

I’m still analyzing it, but I love this dream because it shows that I’m emotionally and mentally done with bad behavior, even with “acting right” or listening to my inner office manager. And as much as “Nice Marcus” would never scream or slam doors, I’m recognizing that there’s more to a person than “always being nice” or people-pleasing. Anger has its place. Sometimes a good, strong HELL NO is required. Opinions be damned.

As a t-shirt I saw this afternoon said, “If I gave a shit, you’d be the first person I’d give it to.”

7. This cat in my bag

Before falling asleep last night, I noticed Anne and Andy’s cat Frankie sitting in my luggage. Adorable.

8. New foods, old friends

For lunch my friend Matt took me to a restaurant called Van Gogh’s, a dutch place. I had some sort of pancake with gyro toppings. It was stupid, as in delicious. Matt–as always–was kind, a good listener, and generous.

9. This knocker on this door

Walking down a local alley this afternoon, I saw a brass knocker on a teal door. I found it stunning, something beautiful in an expected place. Now I think, What other wonders await in unexpected places?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It's never a small thing to open your home or heart to another person.

"

All Your Made-Up Problems (Blog #455)

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The last twenty-four hours have been fabulous. Last night my friend CJ and I took her kayaks out on Beaver Lake, which has temporarily been renamed OmaHog Lake until the end of the college world series–I think–I don’t know–it’s a sports thing–I’m gay. Anyway, I left my phone in the CJ’s truck (no one called, anyway), forgot about everything else, and we paddled around for a couple hours and watched the sun go down. Then, like Michael, we rowed our boats ashore (to an island). There, under the light of the full moon, we ate fried chicken and I drank beer.

After eating, we paddled the kayaks back across the lake, me going backwards so I could watch the stars and identify constellations. Back at CJ’s farm, where I slept over last night, we sat on her porch and ate ice cream. Far from the city and artificial lights, with my eyes fixed on The North Star (Polaris), I was finally able to spot Cepheus, The King, which rotates around Polaris and is just counterclockwise to and above Cassiopeia, The Queen.

CJ said, “Why do men always have to be on top?”

Since the constellations are like a clock that runs backwards, the good news is that this situation is reversed in the middle of the day. The Queen is on top of The King. Of course, because the sun is shining, no one can see it.

This morning I slept in, took my time getting around. After making a light breakfast and a cup of coffee, I scrubbed down the kayaks, per CJ’s request. Then I read a book, put the kayaks away, sun-bathed, took a shower. Now I’m blogging, trying to keep things short because I’m growing weary of long posts and don’t want this day to be anything but easy and relaxing. Plus, I’m going to a dance later this evening, so I need to point my car in that direction.

Last night I dreamed that my therapist asked me, “Do you hate yourself?” The question was so jarring that I woke up. I remember lying in bed, maybe at five this morning, thinking, NO, why would you even ask that? Still–obviously–inquiring minds want to know. Specifically, my mind, or it wouldn’t be asking the question (in the form of a dream). So I’ve thought about it today. As I sun-bathed and picked my body apart–this is too big, that’s had too much fried chicken–I asked myself, Do you hate yourself?

No, the answer is no.

Then stop beating yourself up, Marcus.

Fresh off yesterday’s post, I realize that life isn’t black or white. You don’t fully love yourself or fully hate yourself. There’s room for gray, that place where you love your hair (I love my hair) and hate–hate’s a strong word–dislike your waistline.  And yet, how would my moment-to-moment experience change if I were to fully embrace–to love and not just tolerate–all parts of my body and my experience? Surely it would make life easier–better–something akin to spending an evening on a lake under the stars, something akin to forgetting all your made-up problems and enjoying this present moment.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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

It Is Possible (Blog #440)

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Almost every day I blog in order to solve a problem–talk myself down from a ledge, work through my emotions, give myself hope. It’s just the habit I’ve fallen into here, trying to figure things out, trying to figure me out. Not every day is like this, of course. Some days, like today, are “good” from dawn to dusk. I don’t know why days like this exist. Maybe because some days are shit from sunup to sundown. (Can I get an Amen?) Regardless, I’m grateful for days like today, days that “work.”

This morning I woke up earlier than intended. (I hate that.) This probably happened because I’m pet-sitting a dog this week, and the dog’s in my room. And whereas she’s SUPER quiet (she never barks–I don’t think she knows how–maybe the cat got her tongue–haha), I can still hear her moving around, breathing. Anyway, I gave up trying to go back to sleep and started the day early. I had breakfast, read a book, made a phone call. I didn’t rush like normal. I read once that was a big part of having peace of mind–slowing down, taking your time. It said, “You should wake up early.”

Maybe it was right. (Maybe.)

This afternoon I saw my therapist and had a great session. A friend recently told me that “great” is an overused word like “nice,” that I could try saying “fabulous” or “wicked hot,” but a “wicked hot therapy session,” to me, sounds rather salacious, something that might involve a whip, which isn’t my idea of a mentally healthy good time. But I digress. Today my therapist and I discussed, among other things, a dream in which I yelled at someone. “FUCK YOU!” I said and then woke up. We decided the person I told off in my dream represented 1) barking up the wrong tree and 2) suppressing anger, so the fact that I was telling them to screw off was a good thing and meant I’m done with those behaviors in myself and others. “I’d love to have a dream in which I told someone to fuck off,” my therapist said. “I hope I have one.”

You belong exactly where you are.

After therapy I window-shopped at a vintage store then ate sushi and read a book. Then this evening the improv group I’m in performed at a private party as part of a local business’s team-building activities. Talk about fun–I’m always amazed when I see people put themselves out there and try new things for the first time. (Sort of like how I got up early this morning.) Finally, when the show was over, I had drinks with a friend from our group. Now, obviously, I’m blogging. So that’s it, just a lovely day. Not once did I feel rushed, panicked, or frightened. Well, I did get just a wee bit nervous before the show but took that as excitement. I told myself, This will be fun. (And it was.) So it is possible to move effortlessly from one thing to the next, to not get hung up, to act like you belong exactly where you are.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

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

"

My Inner Coach (Blog #431)

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It’s two in the morning, and Daddy is ready for bed. It hasn’t been a particularly difficult day, but it has been a long one. This morning I ate breakfast then read a hundred pages in a book, which was relaxing. Then I walked to the bank and am pretty sure I missed the opportunity to speak to my future husband as I passed him on the sidewalk because I had my damn earphones in. (Oh well, maybe next time.) Afterwards I spoke to the insurance agent of the guy who hit my car (with me in it) almost a year ago, and that was my big accomplishment for the day. I had a confrontation.

“I don’t need you to understand,” I said, “I need you to do something about it.”

Needing to cool off after the phone call, I went for a run in the middle of the hot, humid day. (Ironic, I know, cooling off by getting hot.) Anyway, it must have worked. Forty-five minutes later, I didn’t give a shit about the insurance company–all I wanted was a glass of water.

And by water I mean Heineken.

This evening I hung out with my friend and former roommate Justin. We went to dinner with some mutual friends, then back to his house for drinks, conversation, and more conversation. (We both like to talk.) Get this shit–we were together for seven hours tonight. Seven hours! Y’all, that’s like a job–practically a full day’s work. But really, that’s pretty typical for me and Justin. We’ve known each other forever and usually have marathon catch-up sessions.

Tonight at dinner I gave Justin a look about something, and later he told me what he got from it. Y’all, he nailed it–like three things I was thinking from one look. I know I’m being vague about it now, but the point is that we decided the reason Justin could read me so well was because we’ve spent so much time together. Whether non-verbally or in conversation, we can cut through a lot crap with each other because we’ve invested time, money, and attention into our friendship for well over a decade now.

High price, but high payoff.

I share this story because the idea of work and reward has been on my mind recently. I have new dance students who get frustrated that they can’t spin as well as I can. I try to explain that I’ve been working on my spins for nearly twenty years now (holy shit, I’m old), but I don’t think the gravity of that statement really sinks in. For twenty years–off and on–I’ve been spinning in my kitchen, across my living room, up and down various dance floors. When I had the studio, students would come in an hour a week, but I’d be there ten or twenty, practicing while I taught. It’s not that I consider myself a fabulous spinner–I could be A LOT better–but the idea that someone coming in “off the street” should get the reward of good spins (if you want to call it a reward) without putting in the work–ridiculous.

Personally, I too get frustrated when I don’t get results as soon as I want them–in writing, in health, in relationships. And yet the things and people who mean the most to me are the ones that have grown slowly, a little here, a little there. Perhaps I’m starting to get okay with this, starting to show myself some grace. Last night I dreamed that I was playing baseball as an adult. (I haven’t played since I was kid.) My coach in the dream was screaming at me, “You should be doing this better. You should know more.” And whereas I’d normally agree with him (I’m a recovering perfectionist), I said, “Hey, asshole, calm down. I haven’t played baseball in thirty frickin’ years. I think I’m doing pretty great, all things considered.”

My inner coach–what an asshole, indeed. Maybe we all have that, that voice that tells us we should be doing better than we are, that inner jerk who compares us-just-starting-out to someone else who’s been doing it for decades. I’m growing weary of that voice that demands perfection right this minute. And since I can’t find a single person or thing that I value in my life that hasn’t required slow, consistent hard work and practice, I’m less and less interested in quick payoffs and instant benefits anyway. Plus, it’s just not possible for me to be any better (or worse) than I am in this moment. So I’m working on acceptance. Because all things considered, I am doing pretty great. We all are.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"There are a lot of benefits to being right here, right now."

When It Comes to Luggage and Bodies (Blog #374)

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Today I am worn out. I feel tired behind my eyes. Additionally, my skin is acting up, and the muscles in my neck are tight, tight, tight. I’ve said these things before, but I say them again because I’m about to go out-of-town for several days on a writing gig and am worried about how my body will handle the busy schedule. So I’m giving it a pep talk even as we speak. Hang in there.

Not the most original pep talk, I know.

The occasion, the writing gig, is a travel-writing trip to Memphis. Y’all, this is my first-ever travel-writing trip, but it promises to be a pretty sweet deal. Basically I’ll get flown to Memphis, put up in a hotel, fed twice or more a day, and bused around to local restaurants and attractions along with several other journalists, the understanding that we’ll all go home and write about the city and the things we saw for our respective media outlets. (I’m officially writing for a local magazine I used to work for and not my blog, but I’m sure I’ll talk about my adventures here as well). Actually, I have two travel-writing trips planned back-to-back, so I’ll be running around the region for the next week and a half. This will be the most travel and work I’ve required of myself since my immune issues flared up six months ago, which–again–is why I’m worried.

Hang in there.

In preparation for the trip, today I spent three hours shopping for carry-on luggage. One bag, specifically. Y’all, what a chore, finding something that was the right price, the right size, the right color, had the right number of pockets, and also looked cute. I went to five stores before finally narrowing it down to two at Academy Sports–a bright red and black hard case and a navy canvas with small, red accents. I really, really wanted the hard case. Not only was it cheaper, but it was perfect on the outside. HOWEVER, I went with the canvas bag (by Coleman), since it was good enough on the outside and perfect on the inside (deeper storage and a compartment for wet clothes). So once again, remember–when it comes to luggage and bodies, it’s what’s on the inside that counts.

Last night I dreamed that my car was being repaired at a garage. The hood was up, and I was working on the engine. I guess I was a mechanic, but I didn’t know exactly what to do. Then another mechanic appeared (as if by magic), and we worked on the engine together.

You’re exactly where you need to be.

Y’all, of all the dreams I’ve had the last few years, this one excites me the most, since cars in dreams almost always represent the physical body. The engine, I think, represents my immune system, the thing that makes my body run smoothly. Me and the mechanic, then, would be me and my doctors, indicating that I’ve finally landed in a place where things can be fixed (in the dream, the garage). Alternatively, the dream could simply be about the direction my life is going and the fact that I’m currently working on the stuff under my hood (my insides), the stuff you can’t see but that really runs the show. Either way, I’m hoping the message is the same–Hang in there. You’re exactly where you need to be. Don’t worry. You’ll be back on the road in no time.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

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.

"

There’s a New Sheriff in Town (Blog #372)

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Currently it’s four-thirty in the afternoon, and my friend Bonnie and I are in her car, Carlotta, en route to Dallas to celebrate the one-year anniversary of the blog. The plan is to go out to dinner, then go out dancing. The day itself is cloudy and rainy, but I have sunshine in my heart. I’m excited to party and pat myself on the back for all my hard work, something I don’t do very often (believe it or not). Also, I’m excited that Bonnie is here. More than any other person, I think, she’s the friend who’s appeared on the blog the most. So this seems fitting.

Before we left today, I went shopping for a new outfit–well, a pair of shoes and a shirt–for tonight. Y’all, I’ll post pictures later, but I actually bought stuff with bright colors, something fun. I figured as long as I’m going dancing in a city where I don’t know anyone, I might as well feel confident and stand out. When I told Bonnie about my purchases, she said, “I could go all ‘Marcus Coker’ on that.”

“Like, what do you mean?” I said.

“Well, you used to have a lot of fun clothes, but you got rid of them. You’ve spent the last year wearing gray and black–utilitarian clothes–while you were busy doing your inner work. Maybe you’re ready to start wearing playful things again, now that the outside can truly match the inside.”

Good stuff, huh?

I think Bonnie is right. I’ve joked before that my clothes have been dark because I’ve been in mourning. On some level, I guess this is true. In a lot of respects, I consider “the old me” dead. Not only does my life look different on the outside, but it certainly looks different on the inside.

Last night I dreamed about a (former) friend who has a lot of unhealthy behaviors. They’re passive aggressive, a people pleaser, and often addicted to one substance or another. As much as I’m able, I don’t judge them for it. As my therapist has told me more than once, I’ve “rocked those strategies” plenty of times in the past (plenty). This is how my therapist often refers to actions, behaviors, and habits–strategies. What I like about this perspective is that it allows me to step back and more objectively look at how I’m handling the situations in my life, asking myself, “Is this behavior, this strategy, effective? Is there a better way to go about this?”

Anyway, in the dream my friend and I were on a trip, and they were on the phone, running the show. However, they’d forgotten something I thought was important (and fun), my bicycle. And then–kind of out of nowhere–I slugged them in the face. All of a sudden they were on the ground, their nose bleeding, no longer on the phone, no longer running the show.

Violent, I know. Not the best dream to wake up to. Still, I think the dream was really positive. To me it communicates that my subconscious has finally had enough with unhealthy behavior, both from myself and others. There’s a new sheriff in town. A different, healthier part of me is running the show now, and it clearly means business.

Talk about a reason to celebrate. (Also, watch your noses.)

I want a new life.

Perhaps in addition to representing mourning, my dark clothes have also represented and communicated the idea that I’m serious–I’m haven’t been playing around over here with regards to my personal growth, my mental health and the health of my relationships, and this blog. This feels true to me. I’m grateful for my past, but I want a new life, a different, healthier, free-er, more playful life. I want it with every fiber of my being, so much so that I’m willing to spend the rest of my life working toward it. If I can help it, I won’t settle for less. From what I’ve experienced of freedom so far, it’s worth every serious effort. So you go inward and you grit your teeth. You change your behaviors and what you’ll accept from others, even getting violent (figuratively speaking) if you have to. Then when most of The Hard Work is over (since it never actually ends), you buy a new outfit, jump in the car with a friend, and find a way to party and celebrate the start of your new life.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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None of us is ever really lost. At least we're never really alone. For always there is someone to help point your ship in the right direction, someone who sees you when you can't see yourself.

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The Thing I Was Forgetting (Blog #365!)

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Since moving in with my parents over a year ago, I’ve developed this nasty habit–I can’t walk out the door to go somewhere without walking back in. Like, I get to my car and realize I’ve forgotten something–my car keys, my laptop or phone, my coffee mug. It drives me crazy. My dad says I’d forget my head if it weren’t screwed on. (Everyone’s a comedian.) This is my dad’s way. He’s taken to making jokes, at least laughing, every time I say goodbye and fifteen seconds later say hello again. “I forgot something,” I always say. “Who does THAT surprise!” he responds.

Y’all, I guess this really has become a thing, since I even did it in one of my dreams last night. I was leaving some sort of convention, already on the outside of the building, and remembered I’d forgotten something. (I don’t know what it was.) Sometimes in dreams I’m trying-trying-trying to run, but I can’t. Instead I move in slow motion. (My therapist says this is about my feeling that my life isn’t moving fast enough.) Well, in last night’s dream, I RAN back inside the building, looking for whatever it was I forgot. The building was huge with lots of levels and stairs, and I ran down every one. On the way back up and out, however, I crawled.

A weird thing happened this morning while I was getting ready to make breakfast. My mom started radiation this week, so she and my dad were gone and I had the house to myself. I know, I thought, I’ll put on some music–I’ll listen to a CD. Well, our stereo system is older than Moses, and I guess it has a short in it, and I couldn’t get the CD option to work. So I started futzing with the wires, and a song crackled through the speakers. I only caught a few words, but they sounded familiar. Moving me down the highway. Figuring I’d briefly tuned into the radio somehow, I switched the function button on the stereo from “CD” to “Radio,” but a different song was playing. Go figure, I thought. Still, all during breakfast, that lyric kept running through my head. Moving me down the highway.

Each person is important.

Y’all, thank God for the internet (and peanut butter). That lyric–Moving me down the highway–is from a song called “I Got a Name” by Jim Croce. It’s beautiful. As soon as I looked it up and played the full version, I started crying. I’ve had it on repeat for the last two hours. The first verse of the song starts off like this–Like the pine trees lining the winding road, I got a name, I got a name. Like the singing bird and the croaking toad, I got a name, I got a name. To me this means that I am equal to, just as important as, any other one of God’s creations. To me this means that each person, including me, is important.

Talk about a hand-delivered message from the universe.

Today’s blog is number 365 (in a row). Tomorrow (March 31) is technically my “blog birthday” or “blogiversary,” but as soon as I hit “publish” today, I’ve officially crossed the digital finish line and completed one full year of daily writing. Holy crap, y’all, I did it. It took a ton of time, a lot of tears, and not a little frustration, but I did it. (Way to go, me.) Honestly, I don’t know what to say. Earlier today my dad said, “It’s got to feel good.” And he’s right, it does. I feel happy, proud, nostalgic, hopeful, and even sad. It’s everything.

Big dreams take commitment.

As I’ve said before, when I started this project a year ago, it was mostly to establish a daily writing practice. I truly believe that writing is part of the reason I’ve been put on this planet, and I’m not ashamed to say that I have a lot of big dreams around the topic I’d like to see come true. Therefore, my logic when I started this blog was the same as it is now–if you want to see your dreams come true, you’ve got to be willing to consistently do your part. Several times over the last year, my friends and family have referred to me as “disciplined.” Personally, I think that word makes it sound like I’m punishing myself over here, that every day I sit down and grit my way through a thousand-word blog. Not that every blog is easy, but overall gritting my way through is not my experience. So a better word for me is “determined” or “focused.” The way I see it, I’ve got a big dream over here, and big dreams take commitment. It’s that simple.

If I’ve learned anything over the last year, it’s that big dreams (and life in general) may “happen,” but they don’t happen the way you think they’re going to. (What would be the fun in that?) Another thing I’ve learned is that as long as you’re working on your dream or–better said–doing the thing you believe you’re called to do, it matters less and less whether or not your dream actually comes true. In “I Got a Name,” Jim Croce says it like this–Like the north wind whistlin’ down the sky, I’ve got a song, I’ve got a song. Like the whippoorwill and the baby’s cry, I’ve got a song, I’ve got a song. And I carry it with me and I sing it loud. If it gets me nowhere, I go there proud. In other words, at some point it becomes enough to try. So long as you’re following YOUR path, it doesn’t matter where it leads you.

But back to my forgetting things. Just like in last night’s dream, when I started the blog a year ago, I thought I was ready to go “outside,” to step out into the world and make a way for myself. But true to life, I forgot something. I forgot to go “inside” first. In the dream I RAN inside and down (into my unconscious), which I think represents my last four years in therapy and all the work I’ve done on this blog. In the beginning, I was “gung-ho.” But as anyone who has walked this path knows, going inside takes a lot of hard work. Just like daily writing, it takes determination, focus, and commitment. Also, most the time you feel like you’re going nowhere, which is what it felt like in my dream as I was crawling. (Encouraging, I know.) But the point, I think, is that I was moving. Moving me down the highway, slowly working my way up and out.

In the dream, I never found whatever it was I was looking for. Perhaps this means that whatever it was wasn’t important, but I think it means that as I pursue my real-life dreams, the point is not to find something or get something. Rather, the point is to go inside before you go outside. This has been my experience in my first year with this blog. A year ago I thought I was looking for something external, but what I found was something better, something internal. 365 days ago, I thought I was sitting down to write about me, but now I know I was actually sitting down to MEET me, to get to know my authentic self and remember to take him along no matter where I go. As it turns out, what I was looking for was myself. All this time, the thing I was forgetting–was me.

Freedom is everyone’s birthright.

In “I Got a Name,” Jim Croce never says where the highway he’s moving down leads. But he does say this–I’m gonna go there free. More than any other goal I have or dream I’d like to see come true, this is my determination–freedom. And after a full year of going “in and down,” here’s what I know–if you’re stuck in a bad relationship, if you’re constantly worried, if you can’t let go, or if you don’t fully love and accept yourself–you’re not as free as you could be. But more and more I believe we live in a universe where freedom is not only possible, but also inevitable. Indeed, no matter how deep your wounds or how profound your pain, I believe freedom is everyone’s birthright, that even if you have to crawl, you will somehow find your way out of the darkness and into the bright light of day.

[To any and everyone who has spent any amount of your time on this blog these last 365 days, to anyone who has offered a kind word or thought in my direction, to anyone who has given me their support and encouragement–I am profoundly grateful. May all good things be yours, and wherever life takes you, may you go there free.]

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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All great heroes, at some point, surrender to the unknown.

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