Distractions, Fatigue, and That Evil Inner Idiot

The two greatest obstacles I would identify publicly as my reason for falling short in the past would be that I am often easily distracted and struggle with almost constant fatigue, at times to the point of completely blanking and finding that I’ve lost significant amounts of time as if I had fallen asleep standing, eyes open. Other than frequent naps, I’ve found no means of coping with these problems and recently have found myself existing in a zombie like state that cannot truly be called living. If I were to be completely honest though, my biggest battle is with myself. I have tried time and again to “get my life together” but have always managed to self-sabotage just when there was a genuine chance of getting whatever it is I’m claiming to be aiming for at the moment.

Having spent time reading the trials of others and going through a myriad of emotions in both relating and feeling completely detached from those tales of hardship, the one common thread that truly seems to hold us all together is the element of self-doubt. Perhaps it’s simply that when a body is not fatigued to the point of nearly falling down dead and fear of survival is no longer imminent that the mind has the energy to wander within and search for some greater understanding of existence and if given enough time to wander the mind will eventually question its own place and worth in the universe. Heavy thoughts for a Thursday, but I’m heading somewhere and if you’re still with me than you might get something from this.

For all my years of struggling against myself emotionally and blaming it all on the mere physical challenges I have faced, for the recent years of wondering if the sharp increase in my body crumbling from within, there has been one thing that has managed to hold on to a corner of my heart and fought to remain in my daily life: crochet. Yep, all that lead in to a single word. Why? Well it’s partially because I’m a generally long winded person, but it’s also to prove a point. If through so much struggle, there has been one thing (other than family) that has been a constant source of relief from the ugliness of life and a muzzle for my “Inner Idiot” then it’s more than just a word or a hobby; it’s a key to survival.

When I was a little girl my mother taught me to chain endless ropes of yarn and at one point managed to teach me a basic Granny Square which I promptly forgot, because I preferred the simple finger chaining as it was fast and my stuffed animal zoo and dolls liked them well enough. Loom knitting has come and gone, sewing has had its place, woodworking has grown in my heart and glass will always fascinate and lure me like moth to flame. Crochet on the other hand has its own special place as it grown with me in so many ways. When I was twelve I begged for a “proper” lesson at a local arts and crafts store and found I left with not much more information than I entered with and that the instructor didn’t really seem to care either way. But, I didn’t leave the store without hunting down a book I hoped could offer me a REAL lesson. It was the right book at the right time and before long I was making full projects beyond dollhouse accessories and chained bracelets. By fifteen I was thoroughly frustrated/bored with merely following someone else’s patterns and began to make my own. Truthfully, the only period when crochet hasn’t had a place in my regular week was during the darkest, hardest days and I can’t help but wonder now if letting go of crochet during that time contributed to the spiral. It was if the first two decades of my life crochet was a subtle score in the background hinting at the glorious beauty of finding joy in ordinary life. Then one uncoordinated fall and two surgeries on my dominant/hook hand later it was like the absence of the formerly treasured simple days were being drowned out by the stereotypical ominous clanging of “something truly awful is about to destroy everything you love, why aren’t you running?!” that everyone in Western culture knows so well.

Alright, that last part was a bit dramatic, but it’s a fairly justified description given the past few years.

I never recognized before the past year just how much crochet was and can be a release of all the crap that builds up. The whole “mindfulness” of counting stitches then frogging when you lose your focus doesn’t really do it for me, but making full projects again changed my life. To suddenly be reminded that while I may not be the fastest hooker or the most fashion forward designer, I am still pretty darn good and maybe if I stop beating myself up for everything I don’t magically know from birth I might turn out to be decent at other things as well.

 

I guess this is probably the biggest the point of this blog exercise: focusing on the good and working to silence the inner negativity. Hopefully this will be the worst of my rambling and I’ll find a way to limit the long and tedious random posts.