Above all, don't lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to such a pass that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others. And having no respect he ceases to love, and in order to occupy and distract himself without love he gives way to passions and coarse pleasures, and sinks to bestiality in his vices, all from continual lying to other men and to himself. The man who lies to himself can be more easily offended than anyone. 

-Fyodor Dostoyevsky 

When I write

I'm a messy heap of emotion,
That's how it always starts.
This time the familiar twangs of heartbreak pull me apart.
I'm writing tonight because they tell me
I'm weak if I share this with him,
If I want to be near him.
I still feel connected to him.
Lucky to have ever met him.

Tonight and every night since last I saw him
I crave no other contact.
I choose to not be over him.
I don't want to forget the magic.
His energy
His scent
His inner conflict and outer peace
His tender touch and thoughtful banter.
The way we talked about everything
and the way we never needed to say anything.

Get over him
They say
You deserve better
He said
Fuck you
I thought

What is better than a love that makes you want to be the best you?
There is beauty in this twisted world.
The flowers bloom,
The butterflies flutter by
Still
Every. Damn. Day.

But

He doesn't want you
They say
I miss him
I say
I miss you too
He says?

Or is that part of the game?

---

Yet

For the first time in my life, not only am I not afraid of being alone
But I prefer it.
I'm not afraid of meeting someone
But I don't.
I'm not afraid of hurting
But I do.
I'm just not afraid
Of this
Of me.

I don't want to believe this crap, but I can't help it

Mercury is in retrograde until October 9. It rules all types of communication, AND "important documents such as book manuscripts or term papers, agreements, deeds, contracts, leases..." FML.
No wonder my thesis project is getting nowhere. I'm trying to figure out where the wind in my sails went.  I thought is was because I altered the topic, but no. I think it's because I am paralyzed by my quest for perfectionism. It's gotta be just right, right now.

Ugh. Get over it.

Cracks

More often than not, I have been leaving work physically, mentally, and emotionally wiped out. After two and a half years of being an ER RN, the luster and excitement has given way to a sort of jaded resentment. In the far reaches of my memory, I see the shining hospital on the hill, glistening in the sunlight. And I, with hope and optimism, was a new graduate nurse who was going to show everyone how smart, compassionate and hard-working I was so that I could work as a bona fide registered nurse at that sparkling institution by the sea.

I think I've finally deconstructed this salty bitterness to a level that really gets to the heart of things. The ER is that place where people go after they have slipped through the cracks. The systems that were set up to help the ill and destitute are not infallible.

Name the system--the economy, housing, education (Drawing a blank for others. Arguably education can be considered the foundation for everything). If there are cracks to be slipped through, there are people who will fall through and end up in the ER. Laws that help the poor and downtrodden prevent the ER from turning away anyone seeking medical attention. It is the last true safety net in the country. My workplace is a constant reminder of all that is wrong with society: hunger, homelessness, helplessness, lack of resources and treatment for the mentally ill, poor eating habits, over-stress, under-activity, mindless hamster-wheeling to keep up with the Jones', entitlement issues, sloth, bad parenting, (this list can go on for another few lines, but you get my drift).

I feel like I am literally putting a bandaid on the issues and not doing anything to affect change.  My idealistic "power to the people" younger self would call me a sell-out and tell me to get back into organizing and do something about it.  I've succumbed to the machine that tells me that these actions would be futile. Is that laziness or wisdom?

Are you pondering what I'm pondering?

I woke up from a night's sleep, and had one of those moments where you just stare at the ceiling and reflect on life.  Then I picked up the phone mini-computer to see what the humans on the interwebs are up to. There are some things that Facebook is good for. I read about how someone manifested a good woman in his life. It wasn't as though he conjured her from the air, but he allowed her to enter his life in a space that was healthy. After you've cleared your heart of the muck and debris, you allow for beauty and truth to enter. I have consciously decided that my heart has healed enough and is ready for love.

This morning, as I pondered at the popcorn ceiling, 

I thought to myself that every tear, laugh, tender moment, excruciating pain, excited joy, and 

ripped heart seam has brought me to now 

When this big muscle in my chest is open.

When I have emotions that are at once 

Sophisticated and enlivening. 

Soothing and exhilarating.  

Sensual and emphatic. 

And Oh. So. Fucking. Good. 

I am seeing and feeling butterflies for the first time since I can remember. Fluttering about, they don't seem like normal butterflies of the blindly infatuated school girl giddy variety. Those are there too, but there is something more substantial.  It's not as though these butterflies are all sitting around reading David Foster Wallace, but more like they are conscious and present of the energy and light. There is a desire to learn, explore curiosity, and weave textiles with our interests, insights, fear and joy. It's a blanket of love in which I feel safe. 

I like that this relationship is becoming a vessel for mutual growth that will not only tenderly hold it, but carry it to new heights and horizons. I can't wait to experience everything else it has to share with me, reveal about me, and incite in me.

Poison into Medicine

Narration: Herbie Hancock
this

After leaving...

"...she didn’t need to rationalize her choices any longer."