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