Tuesday, June 19, 2012

letting things fall apart

5 minutes after the start of the first hospice training, I wanted to put my head on the table and let out huge, shaking sobs and I can't really pin down why.  Or maybe there are a million whys that are all tumbling out at once and I am unable to find the correct words.

There is relief, there is fear, there is a big sigh, a feeling of coming home, a self-doubt, a recognition,  a shock , a wonderment, a bump, a putting down, a realization.

There are words I have forgotten that once applied to me:  service, calling.  It was a joy and a tremendous fear to hear them again.

I have taken away my luxury to idly decide on when and if I'd like to tear down my walls, when and if I'd like  to stay Spock-like in my spirituality. When and if I'd like to focus on self-care.  When and if I'd like to stop bullshitting a bullshitter.

 The work is here. To be done now. It's right in my face and I chose it.  And I am relieved and scared.

Everything is about to change.

That was the first thought I had, the one that was going to reduce me to tears "Everything is about to change".   And not necessarily that everything is going to be Awesomesauce Times. Oh no.  I just placed a giant mirror in front of myself that I can no longer run away from and  I just stepped back on the path that forces me out of my head and into my heart.

In other words: shit just got real, dog

No comments:

Post a Comment

"Every morning I awake torn between a desire to save the world and an inclination to savor it. This makes it hard to plan the day."

-E.B. White

Blog Archive