Last week was hard. The kind of hard where your eyes never quite lose that sandpaper under your eyelids feeling and every joint in your body aches. The kind of hard where you worry that at any moment you might completely lose your shit and burst into tears, freaking out people around you. I felt the antithesis of calm and elegant. I kept trying to "pull myself together," to retain Grace Under Pressure.
Who the hell is Grace? It struck me one morning as I schlepped into the convention center that as I sought to maintain control, I was, in fact, disassociating and losing myself in the process. This sort of compartmentalization is all too familiar to me; it's how I've coped for much of my life. The problem is that the further I go into that coping behavior, the less of me there is. It eats up all my energy and I begin to feel dull and hollow, despite the bright and shiny exterior that I show to the world. I realized with stunning clarity that I could actually feel the division taking place, and I really didn't want that any more. Not being myself felt intolerable. I'd rather be a frazzled Nathania and be honest with myself about where I am and what I'm feeling than to try to be someone else. So go away, Grace. I may be tired and cranky, but at least I'm here and showing up for myself.
I always feel more like myself when I have my needles in my hands. This is the new design I was hoping to have done for Stitches, before chaos took over. It's a sweater for Kevin and we have yet to find a clever title for it, poor no-name slob (10 points to anyone who gets that reference). I would have completed the second sleeve last night, but I ran short of yarn as I was nearing the end of the sleeve cap. Just 22 rows short and the rest of the yarn was at the shop. It will be done today, perhaps even seamed!
We're off to Bakersfield tomorrow to introduce Elinor to one of her namesakes, her Great Grandma Marge, and to Kevin's mom's side of the family. See you next week!