and I said, "I'm not."
I have been taking some time to sort out the new sewing space and in doing so, I'm letting my mind wander. See. Touch. Accept.
Every day I come back to the piles, I see new things. Understand more. I am looking at the story of my life and contemplating how I feel about it.
From that conversation:
Just trying to consolidate and organizeSo many of my piles and deliberate separations don't mean anything anymore.
I see choices I made.
How I hid and tried to find happiness in this accumulation
Grasping at slivers of joy
When in truth it's making that gives joy
And using handmade that brings the most satisfaction
I long to sew again. But the time isn't right
I can be patient there
I think sometimes that I could make better use of the child-free evenings, but I know exploring other parts of myself is doing me so much good. I can't hide in the cocoon of quilting that I've lived in forever.
Quilting was coping. Stunted growth.
Stretch, and then come back to making.I need to stretch and then come back to making.
What is me and what were the walls I had built for myself? I am questioning everything. It feels good to do so, though it's not easy. It hurts less these days though, and that is good. Spring is coming, I can smell it. Change and growth. I want to wash off the old ideas that don't fit anymore. And my stash. Ugh. Just.. why? What was I thinking? And then I see it. So many times, I wasn't. I wasn't thinking, I was feeling. An acquisition would give a momentary rush. A new quilt idea would distract me for another hour, another day. But my life, where was it? Now I see. It's like I was sleeping and I have woken up.