Tag: let it go

  • Beginning Death

    Beginning Death

    I’ve been building a relationship with death.

    I work as a clinical director at a local hospice. I am an RN.

    I began this work on the heels of a few colleagues and friends dying and also just after my father died in Sep 2023. In the years prior to my father dying I also underwent many personal mini deaths. Deaths of parts of my ego structure, belief systems and emotional pattering that I healed and integrated into myself, thus falling away. All of this set me up to come into this hospice work and begin to build this relationship I am evaluating and exploring with death. 

    There is a way I feel that I close off connection with others when its too taxing or doesn’t serve me. This is the result of recent exploration of boundaries, new boundaries, so they may be getting out of hand. So I am noticing that now that I know I can set boundaries, maybe I need to reengage with others try for more connection knowing I can hold boundaries in place if I need to and keep myself safe. 

    This is coming up right now because I’ve been building this conversation with death, which seems to be at the base of all my of fears and terror: that I’m going to die.

    I’ve also been watching this show called, “Dying for Sex” in which we watch a woman and her best friend navigate the woman’s death from cancer and her desire to self actualize using sex before she does so. It also shows the profound love between two friends. 

    There is an interesting scene where a hospice nurse explains death and dying to them in a really quirky and explicit way. 

    I don’t do this often in hospice with my clients. Even though I perceive myself as being able to hold a lot of vulnerability in my life and profession, maybe I am stunted a bit in my capacity to really support clients in the time before death but not being super open about what is going to happen to them and openly volunteering that information. It made me wonder, does my fear of engulfment from others strong emotions prevent me from going deep with people? Do other hospice nurses do this?

    I was on a date yesterday and the man was a wonderful human, but was physically not compatible for me. We elected to continue our day long date even though there was uncertainty about compatibility. I noticed that once I identified he wasn’t a fit for me I totally shut down and went numb. Severing energetically the connection. 

    He commented on his feelings in his body, and in response to this asked me to connect more. 

    I identified that I had trust issues about men not really wanting to be friends with me but only wanting to keep me around because they like my energy and maybe want to fuck me. So I just was planning on cutting this guy out of my life as extraneous and not being it as an opportunity to lean into the potential connection as friends or colleagues. Underlying this pattern is trust. And fear of engulfment, fear of doing the wrong thing, of moving too fast and of falling in love with someone that is not right for me. And thus having pain and suffering which under that is fear of abandonment and death. 

    When I identified all this and spoke about it with him, the numbness lifted. The weirdness lifted. He said he then was able to feel connected. And we had a really nice time despite not being the right fit as romantic partners. 

    So I am wondering, how do keep myself safe and dive deep into connection without it making me feel engulfed and exhausted and worrying I will die?

    Can I expand my capacity with my clients and hold more vulnerability with them and more openness such as the TV nurse?

    Can men and women be friends? 

    Can I ask the numbness to move aside to enable more connection and thus love in my life?

    Can I stop seeing romantic love as the only love that will fill the hole?

    I feel as if I am asking death to teach me this. I don’t know how to explain that connection but it’s there for me. 

  • Fuck that old man, his bottles piled high

    Corrals are empty

    Barn walls are falling down

    His hands are empty

    His mouth though, is full of magical bullshit still

    And that old dog of his is about to die

    But my heart still surrounds him

    And there is nothing I can do about that

    But watch

    Remembering him riding ahead, breaking branches, breaking trail

    Teaching me to be quiet in the mountains, giving me that gift

    Teaching me his magic

    I hold him now where I can

    And I’ll watch him ride off ahead of me into the sunset

    On a horse called alcoholism

  • In the Spring

    In the spring

    When my heart is hung out to dry

    Birds chirp in the budding lilac trees

    And I crinkle my eyes in the sunshine 

    And feel grateful I can sleep with the windows wide

    Cooling my skin

    I clunk through the house farting around, intermittently happy and intermittently crumpled on the ground or in the leather chair or the bed, wondering if I’ll ever, ever be suitable again for human consumption. 

    There’s no room here for someone else and simultaneously too much fucking freedom and space and nothing to fill it with but me. 

    My heart. 

    Eyes and hands looking in

    Growing… something. 

    It seems more precious than could have been baked before. 

    With you. 

    I am trying so hard here. 

    And trying to stop trying. 

    To let go

    To surrender god dammit!

    But I haven’t yet been able to stop. 

    Sitting in my chair with my bless-Ed broken foot, accidentally falling in love with you over and over again.

    It’s gotta stop. 

    Cause here comes the Sun.