Finding a muse, where is it? Thousand words be damned.
This is essentially a continuation of on thousand words, only there has been a great battle between mind, soul, and pen.
In my first post, I made the claim I would work off of writing prompts to get my writing sparked. I have also mentioned about writing a thousand words in a sitting.
Sigh…some things are immensely easy to put into writing: such as, I will write one thousand words in a sitting or any other recommendations I have read from books or websites on writing.
Then, there is the introverted side who is not a yacker in everyday life. The introvert steps in and says, “Really? One thousand words?” The writer inside demands, yes, one thousand words, you talk in your head all day long (not schizophrenic), but it’s the inner voice and drives to write.
“Free the writer!” demands the inner voice.
My day job involves me asking people plenty of questions. Sometimes the questions asked can be intimate and personal. I hear various life stories from many walks of life.
My daily life is that of a nurse, so that can be intimate discussions with patients and family regarding end of life plans and decisions. There have been times where I have just sat with a patient while they vented frustration and anger over dying. They don’t want to leave the people they love behind.
It can be gut-wrenching to listen to a person tell you that they thought they were ready to die only to change their mind and tell me their disease was progressing to fast. I have been told the changes and deterioration of their body happened much faster than they expected; now that death is imminent, they are frightened.
Some feel guilty about being afraid. The dying don’t want to burden their loved ones with the vast array of emotions they experience when facing death.
These conversations make me appreciate the little things in my life, and I am thankful for these people who have shared their thoughts and fears. It’s these conversations that also drain me of energy because they are mentally and physically draining.
Being introverted in the above situations allows me to sit and listen while they sob with long streaks of tears down their shallow cheeks that they don’t want to leave their spouse, children, siblings, and or parents behind.
In these scenarios, I am left with my heart physically aching in my chest, holding my breath and speechless. There is nothing that can be done to dampen their anxieties and fears.
It is the patient and only the patient experiencing the solitary journey toward death. Many may try to argue that the family is on the journey with the patient, but I have to argue back that it is solely the patient who is completing the journey.
Well, that unexpectedly took a turn to the dark side quickly.
Even as I recall and write about these dying conversations I am emotionally drained. That is why I say one thousand words be damned.
Sometimes pithy is just right.