Hello Internet. It’s been a day.
Actually, it hasn’t, I am just tired. Today wasn’t half bad, but by the end I was ready for a drink and some therapy knitting. Except, I am out of wine (as my friend Gordon the Steam Engine would say, “oh the indignity”). I feel like I am on the verge of burn out. Burn out, from what, exactly… I don’t know, but I can feel it descending. That familiar exhaustion that comes with trying to face another day that is exactly the same as the day before. It’s part anxiety, part isolation, part incredible jealousy of my husbands career, and part crippling self doubt. (And if I am honest, part boredom (gah! Are moms allowed to say this?)) I’ve kind of descended into a downward spiral of negative self talk recently, probably driven by hormones and dealing with mean spirited people.
I feel like I’ve lost my nerve for life. Okay, let me rephrase that, I feel like I’ve lost my ability to get in my car and go anywhere at any time and explore the world around me.
I have a kid after all, who doesn’t appreciate being carted like luggage. I can’t blame him, who would? And he is freaking adorable, so what the heck is wrong with me? I want to see mountains again, mountains, Gandalf. I feel itchy to get something done. I head to nature when I get personally insecure. It’s what I did as a kid, growing up in the Colorado high country, and it’s my first instinct when I need some love.
I’ve worked through most of that episode though, and I am left with a “what now” sort of attitude. Its days like today when I wonder if I could have something more out of life, that I feel guilty and down on myself. There is a part of me that finds that surprising. I knew that I couldn’t just fit into one specific mold. I am a mediocre house wife, I knew that being a stay at home mom wouldn’t be my thing. I just didn’t expect the guilt that I feel now when I experience what I know to be true. That I need something that is mine. I have a damn good life, don’t get me wrong, but I know that I am capable of more.
It’s kind of nice to slow down and type this out, it helps bring me back to the point of this website in the first place. To know that I have something that is mine and to cultivate it.
I want my son to be proud of me, so the first step is to do something that makes me proud of myself. Haters are going to hate. There’s nothing I can do about them. For myself, I am going to work and take care of my son. That is my mold.
Now onto the good stuff:
I am working on a couple of pairs of socks for Dan, my shawl and my blanket (not pictured) I am itching to cast some more things on, but I have enough for now. I am ready to fall into some poetry and read the newest Taproot, and call it a night.
What do you think about the shawl though? I think I want another set of trees, before finishing with some rib stitching on the border. But it is going to be giant. I think I have something close to 200 stitches on it now. (I am designing this, I should know where I am at, but no… I like to live dangerously) Should I keep going or, stop it here. I have enough yarn, but… Idk. Ugh.
The socks are Regia perfect pair that’s a plain vanella sock, and the gray is the Elementary Socks in Tosh Fingering Twist. Both for my globetrotting, super magnificient, does-all-the-cool-things husband. I love him, but man I am so jealous of him right now. He really is super magnificent though.
Also, the magazine of poetry is called Whirlwind, you should definitely check it out if you get a chance, I think you can get them on Kickstarter. My friend from Jersey publishes it. It’s a great work of art.