“The neighbor asked him how he was and what he’d been doing. My grandfather said, ‘I’ve been cutting the grass and watching it grow. Cutting the grass and watching it grow. Life,’ he said, ‘is ninety percent maintenance.’”~ Spielberg’s Taken
This summer has been a whirlwind combo of strange weather and a roller coaster of emotional ups and downs. I have been hiding from the social media world in order to recharge, focus on sleeping, work on my personal community, and make a conscious effort to accomplish more this year.
It’s been tough, to say the least. Starting a new job in the middle of a pandemic was probably not the brightest move for me to make in 2020 but was needed just the same. However, some changes feel more like moving from the pan into the fryer. The hysterical loneliness and emptiness that comes with only being a needed pulse in a distant chair can weigh you to such deep lows. The first time working in an environment where I am not part of any team, just ‘the help’, no more, no less. So here I sit and knit, trying to analyze how to heal from something new.
I have been focusing on keeping my hands as occupied as possible with all of the extraordinary BIPOC yarns and tools I’ve collected over this year. My design brain has been reactivated. Playing with fire, color, foliage, and shifting structures has been an encouraging companion when I need the distractions. But now I think it’s time to start writing again, too.
I still question how worth it all of this is; am I speaking to no one, is it really that big of a deal if I don’t post? My ability to veer from negative thoughts and remain motivated is sometimes a losing battle. I guess that is part of venturing on a journey, you never really know when the roads will fork and bend.
I guess I will just keep pressing on.