Blogging is a Moving Meditation.

BLOGGING as a MOVING MEDITATION: Liminality's thin passage untangles as it weaves, fits in the ineffable nooks and crannies of my heart's prayer wall, like the cracks in pavement, mile markers on the road, windblown whimsical napkin poems written in eyeliner.

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Step Up.

Watching “Grey’s Anatomy” - THANK GOD FOR NETFLIX RIGHT NOW.

For whatever reason there is comfort in it.  I’ve seen so much pain and heartache, and have been through much pain and heartache.  Even from early on, having a very traumatic childhood on matters; to working in a field that everyday, i see heartbreaking situations.  

I’ve screamed at the heavens.... asking “ARE YOU EVEN THERE- DO YOU SEE THIS STUFF.”    I’ve screamed and cried very loudly these last 2 months - too numerous to count.

20 years in health care ... professional distancing and or dissattachment can only go so far, because God made me to feel deeply.  Even my dissociation compensatory ability, due to my own trauma history, can only go so far. I understand PTSD all too well.  My soul seized and  “flat lined” on more that one occasion and i didn’t see a light at the end of that tunnel.
I have a breaking point.  We all do.

The byproduct of all of what i’ve endured, stood in the gap spaces and taken my sword out to fight............  is an incredible amount of understanding and compassion for others, as well as an incredibly low tolerance for bullshit.  Actually, i have NO tolerance for bullshit if i’m honest.  (that last comment is for an entirely different post- but one i need to write.)

Also being honest, it doesn’t change the impact on my soul/spirit- heart/mind.  I work best under extreme circumstances and pressure, as a result of all this and i’m good at what i do.

 But afterwards.... when i’m alone.... when i step back into my hearts skin, when the adrenalin and cortisol tide ebbs out of my veins, i cry. -  because it hurts like hell.
 It’s been said that tears release toxins from the body; the poison from what caused the pain.  I guess it’s the saline washing of the wounds.

I’m going through a lot right now, that’s no surprise to those that know me.  I’m not ok, and i’m NOT supposed to be.  I’m processing the grief and pain on every level.
My “naked dark side” has shown itself as well and that’s not pretty.  To those that have seen that aspect, (You know who you are!)    I’m sorry... and thanks for standing there and putting up with my shit, even when i’ve been drunk.  (At least i have good taste in Whisky)

While watching a Grey’s Anatomy’s episode today, my heart engaged again... i just wept.   Not because it was a dramatic TV show, but because, i’ve been there on so many levels. Standing by hospital beds watching the struggle for life as well as holding a hand as someone faced death.  I’ve said before Grief is Sneaky.  The episode ended in the following quote:

“Doesn’t matter how tough we are, trauma always leaves a scar. It follows us home, It changes our lives.. ... trauma messes everybody up; but maybe that’s the point.
All the pain, the fear and the crap... maybe that’s what keeps us moving forward.
It’s what PUSHES US.  Maybe we have to get a little messed up, before we can STEP UP."  (Episode 97- Elevator love letter)

So here’s to being messed up, moving forward and stepping up.  Jesus help... amen.


  1. Thanks for sharing from a heart space. Lot to take in.

  2. nothing like a good cry

  3. Wow . . . no words of mine could do justice to what you have shared. Many thanks.
    I'm so glad you spelled "Whisky" correctly!
    A wee-dram (or two or perhaps three) of Glenfiddich?
    Slointe . . .