The D Spot

Well now I’ve done some interesting reading about the whole twin-soul/soulmates thing. I’d kind of thought they were almost the same thing but there are some real differences.
Twin Souls are halves of the same whole, whereas soulmates are separate souls altogther.
Twin souls seek reunion with each other over the ages, soulmates enjoy being together in each other’s lives.
Twin souls, when they meet up and recognize who they are for each other, have a bond that is nearly undefinable and very open, very deep.
Soulmates have a loving bond too, but it can be friendship, familial or passionate. It is not as all-consuming as the twin-soul relationship.
You can have many soulmates, but only one twin soul.
Huh go figure.
Here are the links:

http://www.fromthestars.com/page122.html

http://www.fromthestars.com/page123.html

So I got one of those little personality tests via email yesterday and it looked really interesting. Can you really get deep insights about yourself from a 4 question quiz?
I figured what the hell and gave it a shot.
So first of course, I was prompted to make a wish. (don’t they all start like that?)
I ordered the animals, I described the given objects, I assigned colors to people I care about and then (for superstition sake, I am sure) gave my favorite number and day of the week. (which happens to be 4 and Wednesday, by the way).
Then I read the results.
Huh, I thought, some of it makes sense.
Apparently I am prideful and I put family before love, career or money. Ok, so I do put family first. But prideful? not so sure on that one. Don’t you have to have a certain level of high self-esteem to become prideful?
I see myself as loyal and my husband as smart.
I think my enemies are soft (whatever the heck that means).
I describe sex as warm, and I interpret my own life as a mother before any other label. Again, sort of I guess. (I use heat references in most of my writing to do with sex and the mother thing…yeah, thats me I suppose)
I will never forget my daughter, and I will remember my son always. (Thats kind of scary–are they going away somewhere??)
My stepmother is my true friend–I agree on that. She rocks.
I really love my husband (well most of the time haha)
and my cousin is my ‘twin soul’ (have to look that one up.)
And of course, if I sent the link to 4 people, my wish will come true on Wednesday.
I never claimed that I am not superstitious. I sent it to almost everyone in my address book who isn’t a work contact. Figured I may as well increase my odds.
Today is Tuesday. Be watching the news tomorrow for when I win the millions of dollars.

I woke up this morning and realized
I’ve let too much time go by
I opened my eyes, can finally see
I lost the forest in the trees.

I’ve wasted so much energy
looking too far outside of me
now the answers clear to see
I’m right where I need to be

So to fantasies I’ll say goodbye
And defer my dreams to future times
What’s yet to come is a mystery
but for now here’s where I’ll be
I found myself, my love, you see
And maybe someday you’ll look for me
but for now here’s where I’ll be
Im in the forest, behind the trees.

Energy swirls around me, electronics going on and off whenever I raise the power. It almost scares me but not quite.
I heard it said somewhere that sexual energy is the most powerful. No wonder all acts of love are considered worship.
I want to fly out, to travel where I once went as a child. I want that freedom to explore, to fly in the clouds like I haven’t in some time.
The fax machine doesn’t work at work when I am near it. IV pumps alarm for no real reason.
The last time all this happened it was when I was pregnant. I am sure as hell not pregnant now.
I am pregnant with energy, with goddess love.
I carry the desire, but have no means to an end.

buzzing floating, the ether around me
like a thin veil over my eyes.
I think and I am there and I
see you sleeping.
Black shirt, sheet around your waist.
Left arm up on your forehead in slumber.
And I am closer when I think it and I am
hovering over you and if I could breathe in my spirit state
I would blow you a kiss.
And before I know it I am home again,
falling with a jolt that shakes the bed.

I think its called compassion fatigue—
the sense of ‘oh man not another one’
or
‘geez just take your pain meds/abx/fluids and go’
I hate it in myself.
I love being a nurse
I love my patients
I love the difference that I make for someone
on a daily basis.
But
I guess sometimes I am worn thin…
sometimes I have given and given and given
and its just been taken.
Its the patient’s right and I don’t blame them.
Im there to help them, hold their hands and teach them.
But the tank runs dry occasionally;
No repletion
No refill on the emotions.
And I need to retreat for a while
Hide in my bed, my blankets, my dreams
to find what I’ve lost used and given.
And hopefully get up the next day and
give again.
If I were a drinking woman…
well, I’d have a beer.
As it stands though, my release comes from pathetically typed words
in a hidden journal
hiding in the forest.

It comes upon me smoothly, like velvet across the delicate skin
at the base of the spine.
All at once I am consumed with chills, with fever.
My pupils dilate, and I am lost in the
dream again.
My shoulders rise with each breath
and I feel stirrings deep inside.
I breathe slowly, prolonging the moment
aching for the release but
consumed with the journey.
Breaths come quick now and my
hands clench and unclench
behind my closed lids I see you
In my soul I feel you and when it comes
I gasp.
The untouchable touch,
the sudden rise and fall,
again and again.
All without a word spoken or
the caress of skin.
All within the dream the haunting visions
of your eyes and body
as they consume mine
again and again.
I sigh in my release.

This is what I do. I put patients in their rooms, I start their IV’s and draw their blood. I hang their IV fluids and I send all kinds of their body fluids to the lab for various tests. I give them pills, injections, and IV pushes and I teach them about the medications as I give them. I change bandages. I check their blood sugar, their vitals and their EKGs. I give them crutches, braces, shoulder immobilizers and slings. And I teach them how to use them. I advocate for them when their pain is out of control and I medicate them as fast as possible. I call social work if they have issues with housing, abuse, money, insurance, transportation. I give them a turkey sandwich and milk for the road. I put their catheters in and take their catheters out. I measure their urine. I am interested in what their vomit looks like. I prepare them for their Xrays, their CT scans, their MRI’s and whatever exotic things the doctors come up with. I hold their hands when they are crying and I hand them tissues. Sometimes I cry with them. I help them to the bathroom and I wipe their bottom if they can’t. I change their sheets when they are in the bed. I turn and postion them as needed. I clean up a lot of blood, vomit, urine, and just about any other substance that comes out a body. I run IV fluids into their veins and sometimes into their eyes. I review their discharge instructions, I teach them about their medications and activities for when they go home. I escort them out the door. I decide which room the next patient is going to go to. I put that patient in the room.
I do this with five patients simultaneously.

Sometimes it feels like I’ve left all my compassion at the door;
Or I’ve given so much, I’m empty and dry.
My shoulders still damp with others’ tears.
I come home and I am tired
or my legs hurt, or my back hurts
from bending, lifting, pulling just one too many patients this day.
Sometimes it feels like I
have given so much to others that
there is nothing left for myself.
parched and dry emotionally, and
hungry for the same compassion
that I have spent this long day.
And I fall into bed exhausted
My arms wrapped around myself,
searching for some type of comfort.
And yet,
and yet,
I get up the next morning, if not refreshed at least
slightly rested.
And I pull on my white scrubs and
put my stethoscope around my neck.
Back out into the world,
spreading more sunshine and healing,
no matter the cost to myself.

Did I tell you how often I dream of you?
Terrible dreams of passion and power.
Oh you would be so embarrassed if you saw inside my head
behind my eyes, where the night time visions grow.
I see you in so many situations
an unexpected meeting
a well-planned tryst
does it matter the place, of course not.
what matters is the heat
the skin to skin warm friction
hands
gripping your shoulders to pull you closer to me
my legs
around yours,
pulling you closer
drawing you deeper.
Your skin burning with the fire that I
have worked so hard to smoulder.
Oh these dreams
so real
So hot
so soft.
I swear when I wake up I can still feel your kiss on my lips
on my body and
I wish only to breathe your breath in real life
to fall into each other for just one moment
I dream nightly of your eyes
your smile
your touch
your kiss.
and each morning I awake somehow satisfied yet filled with more longing.
Aching to return to my dreamstate.
I ache crave crush for the sheer physical contact.
Rules be damned; we can deal with that later.
For now I beg for your touch, for your heat.
My skin craves the touch, my mouth the kiss
I crave to tell you of these nightime visions,
but I fear so much.
I’ve been told I come on a bit strong at times.
And if all I want to do is jump your bones
where does that leave the rest of you?
Sure I want to know you, hear you, listen to you love you
but tonight
damn
tonight I just want to do you.