I was at Homespun Yarn Party last month and someone told me I should write here more often.
I agree, though. I should. It’s good practice, it’s good for me, and apparently there’s some value to others in it. I enjoy the conversations that are generated in various spots by some of these posts. And it’s funny: I frequently start entries all the time— in my head, on my phone, scribbled off on teeny tiny bits of paper that end up wadded in my pockets, only to be found months later and puzzled over. When did I write this? I’ll think, smoothing out wrinkles, trying to read the fuzzed- out pencil. It’s almost always pencil; so inconvenient, but I like the way it always works, and the way it bites into the paper.
It’s hard, though. So much of what’s happening right now affects me but it isn’t mine, if you know what I mean. It’s all indirect. Without ownership, I don’t feel comfortable commenting on it or even on my feelings around it. Kiddo being off in college, my mother- in- law’s illness, the issues in Kiddo’s boyfriend’s life, how my husband deals with his mom’s illness, none of that belongs to anyone but those folks. My reactions to those things? Yeah, that’s all mine, but in sharing that, I share them, and— yeah, it’s okay to do that in passing, but I’m not down with me getting into the nitty- gritty in public. You do you, no judgment, but I’ve got to do me.
All of that’s a pretty huge section of my internal life these days, though, so… I don’t know. Every time I sit down to write, this all just seems to come up. I mean, here I am, talking about it, right? They’re not the only things in my life by a long stretch, but they sure are the biggest ones, and it’s hard at times to see anything but the big things. I’m losing my ability to draw down, surely. Getting caught up. It’s inevitable to some degree, but I’ve also allowed it. I haven’t fought it for a while; for a period, it wore us both out, definitely, but realignment is certainly in order, and I’m trying.
Back to the smaller things, then. It isn’t as though we can ever forget these big things- god, they’re ever- present, it’s not as though they’re going away- but back to my mindfulness, quiet, and seeking. I simply lost my thread again, that’s all. It’s so easy to drop, but never hard to find again. How do I forget this so easily, and so frequently? It’s been mindfulness and the small things that has always saved me and kept me balanced.
When this happens— when I “lose the thread”— there’s always this urge to beat myself up over it. The “How can I be so ridiculous?” refrain seems to be pretty common for everybody at some point. I try to give it as little energy as possible, but it never fully goes away, and I do think the thought merits a small amount of impassive analysis: How, really, did I get here? I let meditation become less of a priority. I stopped really looking around me and started powering through my life. I started using old “tools” from my life in corporate work to get through challenging situations- like skimping on sleep, a thing I can do for a while but which makes me miserable.
Cool! I can do better. Unhealthy habits like those can be dropped, and I’m pretty clear on how to fill the gaps. It’s funny how approaching the question without judgment makes finding those issues— Where am I going off- track? makes fixing them so much easier— Right, I’ve really got to pay more attention to the minute- by- minute of my days, I’m missing everything. Nothing is ever so far gone it can’t be put right again. There’s no use beating your head against the wall.
So I’m back at it: sleep, meditation, blogging, crafting for fun, seeing people in my spare time, paying attention. Slowing down. All that good business. Do you remember when you were a kid and thought you’d hit some magic age when you’d be done, set, complete as a grownup? NO MORE GROWING UP FOR THIS HUMAN TO DO. Almost as though you’d finished cooking, like a turkey or a beef Wellington? Yeah, me too. Surprise!