I don’t want to write this. I have the title at the top of my page and stare at it blankly each time I open up my computer, refusing to type a word. Ending. Yuck.
I’ve been wrapped up, consumed, overwhelmed with transition, completion, saying goodbye. I’m terrified and sad.
I just keep soothing myself; my adult self telling my scared child self that I’m going to be okay.
It’s dry and warm. I can feel my lower lip slightly chapped, as I wet it with my tongue. I am the last one to board the plane, my feet feel like lead as the slowly carry me forward, my breath is a mystery. I sit in my seat, hot, cold, not sure. My body remembers this feeling, it is the same before every medical procedure, every potentially challenging conversation, every final _________ . The anticipation of the unknown.
I call my Mom… she’s emotionally stranded in the main terminal, not able to leave either. I’ll be the one who has to leave. I’m always the one who leaves… an interesting role I’ve chosen.
The plane takes off and tears roll down my face. I don’t wear sunglasses. People in community can learn to tolerate the discomfort of emotion. I’m trying to do so with my own. This feeling of crying without anyone noticing or responding feels familiar.
I have gone through major transitions before in my life, many times actually. Many big moves, endings of relationships, and new adventures. This is different. Exhale. Tear. Because this time I’m feeling. In the past I stuffed down my emotions, pushed them forcefully away without even knowing I was doing it. I’m pretty sure I would have imploded at the time if I hadn’t. Our bodies are smart.
But now, apparently I have “skills” and can handle the gut-wrenching feelings associated with the grief and loss of saying goodbye to the world as I know it. To choose on purpose to shake up my life and delve into the unfamiliar in hopes of health and impact. Of staying awake and feeling through it all, because this is human. The pain at razor’s edge with the excitement and potential of what it will be like to step off this airplane and be bombarded with humidity, plumaria, and salt-water.
And I want you to know, that I will miss you. That you have changed me by being my friend, my inspiration, my reader, my illness, my hard mountain earth. That now our relationship will change because we are constantly becoming different people, and my life experiences are about to be vastly altered. And I have so much sadness, as well as so much excitement for what that will look like!
We want to go unconscious during the ending, but this is the time to feel our humanity. The suffering and the joy only exist because of each other.
Wishing you all the gift of feeling through the many endings. It's worth it, to create space for the beginnings. Exhale.
I’ve been wrapped up, consumed, overwhelmed with transition, completion, saying goodbye. I’m terrified and sad.
I just keep soothing myself; my adult self telling my scared child self that I’m going to be okay.
It’s dry and warm. I can feel my lower lip slightly chapped, as I wet it with my tongue. I am the last one to board the plane, my feet feel like lead as the slowly carry me forward, my breath is a mystery. I sit in my seat, hot, cold, not sure. My body remembers this feeling, it is the same before every medical procedure, every potentially challenging conversation, every final _________ . The anticipation of the unknown.
I call my Mom… she’s emotionally stranded in the main terminal, not able to leave either. I’ll be the one who has to leave. I’m always the one who leaves… an interesting role I’ve chosen.
The plane takes off and tears roll down my face. I don’t wear sunglasses. People in community can learn to tolerate the discomfort of emotion. I’m trying to do so with my own. This feeling of crying without anyone noticing or responding feels familiar.
I have gone through major transitions before in my life, many times actually. Many big moves, endings of relationships, and new adventures. This is different. Exhale. Tear. Because this time I’m feeling. In the past I stuffed down my emotions, pushed them forcefully away without even knowing I was doing it. I’m pretty sure I would have imploded at the time if I hadn’t. Our bodies are smart.
But now, apparently I have “skills” and can handle the gut-wrenching feelings associated with the grief and loss of saying goodbye to the world as I know it. To choose on purpose to shake up my life and delve into the unfamiliar in hopes of health and impact. Of staying awake and feeling through it all, because this is human. The pain at razor’s edge with the excitement and potential of what it will be like to step off this airplane and be bombarded with humidity, plumaria, and salt-water.
And I want you to know, that I will miss you. That you have changed me by being my friend, my inspiration, my reader, my illness, my hard mountain earth. That now our relationship will change because we are constantly becoming different people, and my life experiences are about to be vastly altered. And I have so much sadness, as well as so much excitement for what that will look like!
We want to go unconscious during the ending, but this is the time to feel our humanity. The suffering and the joy only exist because of each other.
Wishing you all the gift of feeling through the many endings. It's worth it, to create space for the beginnings. Exhale.
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