In Sheep's Clothing

Do you ever have those moments where you look at your work, those thousands of hours dedicated to your craft, and find yourself absolutely disgusted?

Why are you bothering?

Why do you try so hard?

You aren't shit.

I'm dealing with this hard right now.

I'm looking at my lace work and questioning why I knit.

I know we're not supposed to compare ourselves with other people. We should be proud of what we as individuals can accomplish. But I follow so many accounts on social media just absolutely filled with folks seemingly churning out colorwork sweaters, socks, and other garments at a frightening pace.

It seems every week these folks have new projects falling off the needles.

And I'm sitting back here, hoping to finish one project in less than 2 months.

How do you push yourself through this?

I'm trying hard to be realistic. Most of these people are half my size, which means half the work to do. So even if I could knit as fast as they do, I still couldn't do the work in the same amount of time.

I also can't financially afford to knit sweaters often. It's the same principle as the time cost. Bigger person = more yarn needed. A shawl is much less of a material cost (most of them at least).

Glancing through the worsted weight sweaters in my ravelry favorites, none of them use less than 1500 yards for someone with my bust size.

So let's do some fun math and assume 1 skein of indie dyed worsted yarn retails for $25 and has at least 200 yards. I need 8 skeins, which means that knitting that sweater is going to cost me $200 in materials straight off the bat.

How about something more affordable like Knit Picks' WotA? It retails for $3 a ball, but only has 110 yards per ball. I need 14 balls. That's $42. A wee bit better, true, but now my color selection is limited, plus I don't get to support the people I really want to.

So it's better for me to just support indie dyers and showcase the smaller quantity of yarn used in projects like my shawls, right?

But am I growing stagnant by focusing on just lacework and shawls specifically? Shouldn't I challenge myself and always push myself to do bigger and better things?

I like the look of color work, but I HATE doing it. Absolutely loathe it. It slows me down considerably, I get frustrated when my yarn gets tangled, and I'm always so anxious that my floats are too tight.

Lacework, though... lacework I can do in my sleep.

It's fierce joy and revelation watching the pattern emerge from just a series of seemingly random holes and decreases.

And I think I'm decently good at lacework.

But I'm playing it safe, aren't I? I've pushed myself into a box that I'm unwilling to come out of.

I feel like an imposter. Like a little kid who finds themselves at the table with much more capable adults. Getting little pats on the head and a, "Good job, sweetie! You'll make real projects when you grow up!"

And I don't know what to do about these feelings.

I know this is all on me (and my ridiculous brain) because my friends are nothing but supportive and lovely.

But I just can't shake it.

I don't have any solutions, no hopeful observations.

I guess I just sit quietly with it and keep knitting.

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Threadbare

I'm tired, y'all.

Exhausted.

Worn out and worn thin.

And I owe all of you an apology.

When I started writing this blog, my only intention was to share my knitting.

Over the years, though, it became not only that, but an extension of my soul. Of all my thoughts and feelings, as well as my crafting accomplishments. A way for me to connect and share with all of you.

But these last 6 months or so (maybe longer) I haven't been honest with you. I've just been plastering on a smile and repeating the mantra that I've forced myself into for so long.

"It's fine... everything is fine."

It was easier.

It was so much easier to just listen to that little voice in the back of my head...

"Just share the good things here! No one actually cares about how bad things have deteriorated inside your head. They're only here to see your ridiculous projects and if you don't have anything good to share, what use are you?"

My goal became to just shove everything down in and survive. I didn't have the energy to focus on myself because I was also trying to help my spouse through their own deteriorating mental health.

Yeah, that's been great, let me tell you, having to somehow learn how to help each other get through the times that our bad days overlap.

We're probably both better off dealing with this than some other people might be because we've been navigating my mental illnesses for 14 years together, but it hasn't been easy. My instinct is to only focus on them, damn everything else.

I almost lost other relationships because of this. I missed the signs of someone close's depression worsening. And while I am already working on fixing these problems, I'm still angry with myself for letting it happen in the first place.

And with me shoving everything down as far as I could and focusing on anything but myself, I ended up having two very bad (for me) suicidal episodes at different points this year. Not to mention a return of the days of all day anxiety. Being terrified to go to bed. Depression days so bad I could hardly breathe.

I thought I'd finally improved enough to not have to deal with these anymore. Or at least not as much as I have in the past. Finding out that's not the case has been soul-crushing.

I just feel so utterly lost right now. I've barely been knitting. Everything I've cast on has been thrown to the side soon after with disgust because NOTHING feels good in my hands. Or I would make a mistake that previously probably wouldn't have bothered me, but now I just can't live with it.

I even tried crocheting again, hoping to bring back the spark of passion with wool. I couldn't even get past the first 4 rows without frogging it.

I had planned on having some new craft goal for 2020, but I don't think I can. I don't even know what my creative abilities are going to look like at the end of the next 12 months.

At this point, I'm just taking things day to day to see what I feel like doing. A lot of that time has been drowning myself in books. I'm on my 14th book since January 1st already. I can lose myself in my stories and try to live through another day.

And while it's been nice to do so, I miss *making*.  I miss the feelings of accomplishing things. I need a goal again. Something to work towards. But I don't know what. I hope Henry comes back to me soon and grants me his favor again.

Until then, I guess I just keep cautiously moving forward in the fog.

As for the blog, I still have a few things in reserve to talk about, including the shawl I finished at the end of last year. So I'll do my best to get those out soon.

But after? I only ask for your patience as I try to find myself again. But this time, I promise I'll be honest about how I'm feeling. I owe it to you.. and to myself.

So, onwards we go, friends.

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Pause

John and I have this new thing we've been doing a couple nights a week.

While he is driving home from work, I am heating up water... picking out cups... laying everything out just so.

Brewing tea for him, making coffee for me, and putting it in individual tea pots.

I make sure the sugar bowl is filled and my creamer is out.

The curtains between the dining room and living room are closed, giving us the illusion of privacy... at least until the cats start darting through said curtains, chasing each other.

We sit at the dining room table, phones down, and we just put everything else on pause.

It gives us a chance to talk about how we're feeling...really check in with each other. And lately, we've been needing it more than ever.

It's also been a great way for me to refocus my brain when I've had a really shitty day. The routine of making everything and setting everything out keeps my mind busy and slowly my anxiety and/or depression lessen enough for me to handle it.

I know that most of you can use a break, too. So consider this blog post your own chance to pause, to check in, to take a breath. To join us in the partaking of your favorite hot beverage and letting the burdens you bear lessen for just a moment.

You know me, I'm always here for support. And we'll always have a cup waiting for you.

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The F Word

Let's get something straight here.

I am fat.

This is an objective fact.

I'm not "curvy" or "husky" or any of your other empty platitudes.

I am fat.

Don't tell me I'm not. And don't immediately follow it up with "you're beautiful!"

I. Am. Fat.

And I am beautiful.

One does not preclude the other.

My body is large and round and soft.

It has carried me through nearly 29 years of existence.

It has been broken. And hurt. And told over and over again that it's somehow worth less than someone who has a smaller body.

My body requires more fabric to clothe it.

And as a knitter, a maker of things, I have had to learn how to change and adapt my craft to accommodate me.

Because designers don't care to include people with bodies like mine in their works.

So when you marvel at how easily I seem to be able to magically make what I want appear off my needles, know that it's from years of tears and frustration and looking longingly in the distance at the straight sized bodies on parade with their perfectly fitted garments.

I don't love my body every day.

Sometimes I hate it.

Because I've been told since I was seven years old that I needed to be skinnier. That I needed to diet. That because I didn't want to be in sports, I was useless.

And gross.

And deserved to be ridiculed.

I've only been taught to hate myself.

Never to love myself.

By family. By friends. By strangers.

Don't think I've forgotten about the mother and daughter who laughed at me openly when I dared to look at a shirt in the straight sized section.

Or the kids on the playground who would run away from me because my fat body was an object of disgust to them.

Or the caregivers who tried to starve me into acquiescence of their designs for my person.

A lifetime of these stories and experiences.

You tried to shape me into a ball of loathing and disgust.

You tried to beat my spirit into the ground.

But in the dirt is where life grows.

You told me I'd never bloom into anything beautiful, but I defied you.

I grew into a vibrant and untamed bed of wildflowers.

I am all of the beauty that the sad and barren dirt patch of a heart you have wishes it could be.

And spare me the bullshit of "but your health!"

I don't owe you my health.

I don't owe you anything.

I am not your before picture, your dieting failure, your bad example, your cautionary tale.

I am a person.

I am a human being.

With thoughts and feelings and a thousand different dreams.

And none of those dreams include you and your ignorance.

I have had to fight so hard to love myself.

A veritable gauntlet of education, self-reflection, and conquering my inner-hate.

Of tears, and self-harm.

Of looking at myself and wanting to rend the very flesh from my bones.

But now, when I look in the mirror, I don't see the monster you have so long claimed me to be.

I see me.

All of me.

All of my wonder and beauty and creativity and intelligence.

Shining out from this body of mine.

And if we are all stardust, comprised of the universe...

Well, that would mean my greater concentration of mass makes my star outshine all of your loathing and hate.

I am me.

I am worth everything.

I am fat.

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When the Mighty Fall

There's a post that I see floating around facebook frequently that says something like, "Check on your strong friends." The point being that your friends and loved ones who always seem to be the strongest, the most okay, could probably definitely use someone to talk to from time to time.

I'm here to tell you that *I* am that friend.

For the last two months, my mental health has crashed hard. Almost to the level I was at 3 years ago. I've been waking up nearly every day with some sort of anxiety. Some days it's just a little knot of dread in my stomach. Others, it's been full panic attacks.

My depression days, which had leveled out to maybe once a month, are now happening nearly every week.

I can tell you exactly why it's happening again.

I always talk about having a support net rather than a support pole. That you should never rely entirely on one person for your emotional support. You need to be able to spread that out so no one person gets overwhelmed and overburden with caring for you.

If you go to one person and say, "I need help. Can I talk to you about this?" and they reply with, "I cannot help right now because I need to focus on myself," it leaves you with other options to help you through whatever you're facing.

Or maybe someone has asked you to help them first, so you know they're in a vulnerable place and not able to offer you help themselves.

Then you move to a different support point on your net.

There's no resentment or disappointment. No anger. Just understanding that even though they can't help you right now, it doesn't mean that they won't be able to in the future.

You give and you take. You shore each other up when you are able to, recognizing that you're all in this together.

But what happens when every support point in your net isn't able to help?

What happens when everyone is so overwhelmed with what they're dealing with that they can't really help you?

Before I go any further, let me make this clear: I WILL NEVER, EVER BE MAD WHEN YOU NEED TO TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF. YOU AND YOUR MENTAL WELL BEING ARE YOUR OWN TOP PRIORITY.

I never want people to hurt their own mental well being at the expense of helping me.

Okay, now that I've said that, you want to guess who hasn't been following her own advice?

I know, I know.

My ability to put up boundaries and say "I can't do more than just listen a bit right now" has been pretty much destroyed. I've been wanting to just take on everyone else's problems and take care of them.

So many of my friends (like, all of them) are going through huge life changes, struggling with their identities, or just in a bad mental state themselves. How could I add to that burden?

I couldn't force myself to ask for help this time.

Even from John and Lily.

Yep, I felt like I couldn't even ask the two people who love me the most in this world if I could talk to them about what was going on in my head.

And that's just in my personal life.

In a slightly larger sphere around me, I've also been trying to keep up with all the discussions still taking place in the fiber community on Instagram. Sharing what I could, trying to support people who needed it, discussing the issues with others who aren't aware of what is happening.

But the problem is that I went from trying to educate myself and help out to an unhealthy obsession.

I felt like I HAD to keep up with every little thing. To the point where I was developing real anxiety if I wasn't checking Instagram constantly.

What if I missed something? What if someone did something horrible and I didn't know and I bought from them or supported them in some way inadvertently?

My brain was being relentless.

And on top of all this is the ever present looming doom that is everything this fucking administration is currently doing.

Rather than, you know, dealing with all of this, I've been shoving it down deep and letting it fester.

Or finding ways to unhealthily deal with it... Like weeding every flower bed, destroying my wrist in the process, pushing myself past my physical limits, just to wear myself out enough that I might actually be able to get some goddamned rest.

So Saturday when I found myself absolutely sobbing into a napkin during what was supposed to be a relaxing day out, pouring my heart out, choking out the words that I've locked away for so long about everything I'd been feeling and dealing with, I realized that I HAVE to do something.

I'm so tired of feeling like this... of being absolutely exhausted from fighting my own brain constantly, unendingly. I want to get back to the healthier mental state I'd been enjoying for so long.

So, I'm going to do what should I have done a long time ago. I'm going to focus on me.

I need to rest. To step back and take a breath.

This doesn't mean that I'm giving up on my friends or my activism.

But it does mean I'm going to change how I approach it.

For the foreseeable future, I'll continue to share the information I come across when I have the energy to.

If I'm having a low energy day, I'm going to allow myself to just turn off for that time. I HAVE to be able to. I need to be able to let my brain rest.

And I will NOT let myself feel guilty about this, no matter what that little, rotten voice in the back of my head says.

As for my friends, I will be better about asking for help when I need it. And being honest with them when I can only offer to passively listen rather than actively help them with problems.

This has been absolutely exhausting to write, so I hope you'll excuse me for a brief goodbye. There's some neglected knitting that needs some attention.

Brave at Heart

So, today's going to be a little weird for some of you. Because this is going to be both deeply personal and incredibly nerdy.

To help with this, (and hopefully to keep you reading) I'm going to finally show off my personal library. Especially since it fits what I want to talk about.

At the last pj party, some good-natured ribbing was happening in the little circle of friends around me. I was being harassed for being a "basic bitch Gryffindor." The people around me were Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, and hell, probably a Slytherin, too. I was the single Lion amongst them.

I was trying to not take it personally. Afterall, these were people who I know and love.

But it did get to me a bit more than I realized.

I started feeling embarrassed... ashamed... like I had to apologize and justify why I identify with the House that I do.

"I'm not just a mindless person who only likes popular things!"

I wanted to yell it.

"I have good reasons for why I'm a Gryffindor! I swear!"

It's popular to shit all over Gryffindors because that was the main House featured in the Harry Potter books. So if you identify as a member, you're considered to be just following the crowd.

"You're only a Gryffindor because Harry was a Gryffindor!"

It's easy to look at me and put me in any other House but Gryffindor.

I have the creativity of a Ravenclaw.

The friendliness of a Hufflepuff.

The cleverness of a Slytherin.

But it's Gryffindor that calls to my heart and makes me strive to be better.

To really understand why, first we must examine my history with the series.

I first discovered Harry Potter on a weekend that I was stuck with my dad and his wife. We were at Target, my sister and I forced to just sit around, waiting for her to decide on her next piece of boring beige housewares. My sister and I ended up in the books/electronics section with my dad.

I remember seeing the book on the bottom shelf.

I was entranced by the cover, with the strange bird-horse looking creature, a boy and girl on its back, the shadow of a person in a tower.

I picked it up, opened to the first chapter, and started reading.

"Owl Post" was the name of the chapter.

I sat on the floor and started reading.

"Harry Potter was a highly unusual boy in many ways..."

I don't know how long I sat there until being pulled away.

But even that brief moment was enough.

I was hooked.

I wanted more. I wanted to devour everything this world that I had gotten the tiniest glimpse of had to offer.

Dad and Her, of course, wouldn't even consider buying the book for me. She hated how much I read. (Did I ever tell you about the time I had a hardback book thrown at my face while being screamed at for reading so much?)

So, I asked grandma to get them for me.

And being the supporting, amazing person she is, she did.

In fact, she read them, too.

I've read the first 2 books over 40 times each, the 3rd closer to 50. The rest of the series is somewhere in the 20's.

I went to the midnight release for Goblet of Fire.

My room was painted to look like the Quidditch field.

I spent many, many hours of my life pretending to run about the castle with Harry, Hermione, and Ron, having adventures, learning magic. Grabbing sticks out of the yard to use as a magic wand, beating back the dementors.

I, like so many kids my age, desperately hoped that my letter to Hogwarts would arrive at my door. So I could go and be sorted into Gryffindor by the Sorting Hat and be the best student I could.

Anything to escape the hell I was dealing with at the time.

I was, sadly, disappointed in that regard.

I read those books over and over again, to lose myself in the story as often as I could.

I identified with Harry so much.

How could I not? A sad, lonely little kid who couldn't understand why the people who were supposed to love him despised him so much. That sense of hopelessness as the people who did care about him had to watch as he unwillingly went back to his abusers again and again.

Harry could have easily given into the dark nature that those circumstances can bring. To be the cruel, evil person like the people who abused you.

Heaven knows I've been there myself.

Harry had his own doubts and fears that he would become like that. Worries that he was as evil as Voldemort. That he was heir to a cruel lineage.

There were times that he lashed out and gave into those dark impulses. And the consequences for doing so were always painful.

But I also watched as he made the same choice over and over again. To stand up and fight for himself, his friends, the people he loved.

Even when he would lose everything to do so.

He CHOSE to be brave. He CHOSE to throw himself in the way to protect his friends.

He stood defiantly in face of the dark and came out the other side.

Not whole, not pure. But alive.

And it wasn't just Harry making these choices. Almost every single Gryffindor was an example of bravery, courage, and determination. They stood up for their friends and their principles. And to call out those same friends when needed. 

I'm not saying that they're all saintly human beings with no flaws. In fact, all of them were deeply flawed in some way. It made these fictional characters more human. More easy to identify with. 

If they could choose time and time again to be brave in the face of adversity, why couldn't I?

Afterall, Dumbledore told us that our choices define us more than anything.

'"Exactly," said Dumbledore, beaming once more. "Which makes you very different from Tom Riddle. It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."'

When I was at my darkest moments, imagining myself curled up in the Gryffindor common room, surrounded by my fictional friends, listening to the advice they likely would give me, kept me going.

They would tell me to be brave. To keep fighting. To keep surviving.

And I did.

I stood defiantly in face of the dark and came out the other side.

Not whole, not pure. But alive.

It takes a tremendous amount of bravery to keep going when everything in your head is screaming at you to give up. To just lay down and let the dark take you.

But when you say no, when you scream at that darkness, fighting tooth and nail to defy the odds, to live and breathe and be happy, you are truly the embodiment of what it means to be a Gryffindor.

Sure, the heroes in the stories fight monsters and slay dragons. But us? We fought ourselves. And we're still here.

I choose every single day to keep going.

To defy the cruelty I was taught and choose to be kind, generous, and loving.

To live and do my best to be happy.

And, like Harry himself, I choose to be a forevermore a Gryffindor.

"You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart."

Thanks for letting me ramble on about something that's been in my head for a long time. Hope you enjoyed the library pictures along the way.

We'll get back to the knitting again soon, I promise. Afterall, I have a new shawl to show off.

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The Battle Begins

Alright, y'all.

It's that time of year again.

Unending dinners with family members who are closed minded and bigoted at best, and LITERAL FUCKING NAZIS at worst.

Some of us are in the position to be able to fight against them, to call them out, damn the repercussions. To cut them out of our lives entirely with nary a moment of regret.

And some of us, unfortunately, are not.

This is for you in that position. When family members won't use the right pronouns, refuse to acknowledge your partners, tell you that you're "crazy"... all the bullshit we face. And we're just expected to take it because FAAAAAAMMMMMMILY!

Fuck That.

You. Are. Valid.

You. Are. Worth. Everything.

You. Deserve. Happiness.

Respect.

Love.

You will always have a safe place here.

So, if things get bad today, tomorrow, whenever... You are ALWAYS welcome here. Reach out on Instagram, Twitter, wherever and talk to me. I'll be your support, your champion. I'll be the Best Mom Friend you've ever had.

I love you all so much!

Good luck out there. We'll get through this because we've got each other.

"Courage, my dear lion."

A Bout of Brain Dumps

This year has been extraordinarily hard in terms of crises, difficulties, and hurdles. It's been relentless, wave after wave after wave of stress, anxiety, and despair flooding not only my small little corner of life, but really much more of a global scale.

I feel like every other post from me has been, "Sorry! Bad place in my brain right now! Be better soon!" But I never hit "soon." Every time I get a foothold, something else comes and knocks me on my ass again.

I then get angry at myself for not following through with my goal of one post a week. And for not getting a chance to write about milestones because I'm not in a good place to do so. But what am I supposed to do? I don't want to to force myself into a false cheeriness that doesn't exist. So I'm stuck, just hoping things get better enough that I can write freely again.

It's exhausting.

I am exhausted.
Just... worn out.
Worn down.
Brittle.

I don't know what this post is, to be honest. Or what I'm hoping to accomplish.

Maybe I just needed to acknowledge out loud that this year has sucked, and will continue to do so in all likelihood.

Maybe I'm looking to forgive myself just a bit for breaking a promise to myself.

I don't know, I just wanted to get it out of my head.

I'm not going to end this with yet another platitude and promise.

I'll write when I can and feel accomplished when I do.

Besides, there's still three months of this year to fit knitting in to. I've made my Christmas knit list, queued up some shawl patterns, and started some socks.  I have some thoughts and ideas I want to write about, including some plans for next year.

So, I'm not stopping. Merely slowing down and doing my best to heal these wounds.

We keep moving forward because there is nothing else to do.

Keep fighting, friends.

<3

A Farmer's Market Worth of Lemons

Today's blog post wasn't supposed to be like this.

It was supposed to be about how I triumphed in my mad dash of getting my shawl done in time to wear to Steph's wedding. There would be pictures from the venue, of loving friends, three of us sporting our shawls, of Mikayla and I happily knitting on our socks at the reception table, of us looking fabulous and amazing, showing off our new outfits, showing off our partners. Happy memories, joyous times...

But, the universe laughed and screamed, "FUCK THAT!"

I should have heeded the warnings.

Everything was going too well.

I found a fabulous dress in a color that I adored at a super deep discount. PLUS it matched a lip color that I had wanted to buy at Ulta (which I did) AND I found a matching eyeshadow.

I finished my shawl days before my deadline. It was easy to block out. Came out to the perfect size, despite me leaving off the last few rows.

The Red Tide even stayed away, which as a PCOS sufferer, is always a gamble.

It was all coming together.

Then Saturday dawned.

Everything went to shit Saturday. Everything was going wrong. But still, we made it out the door (extremely late, but not so late that we'd miss the wedding), looking good, makeup and hair perfect, and started towards the venue. We were about 40 minutes into the journey when our car decided that the rest of our day was going to go from bad to worse.

I'll spare you the details, but our car completely died on us. And there was no resurrecting it. We had to be towed back home.

Needless to say, we missed the wedding.

And, if that wasn't enough, it also ruined the surprise outing John had planned for today as my birthday present.

Yeah...

So, instead of the much lovelier post this should have been, you'll have to deal with just another regular finished shawl post.

What? We weren't about to waste looking this good by not at least going and taking pics.

So, I went back and forth about what shawl I actually wanted to do for this project. I knew I wanted to use my lovely speckled yarn, but was unsure of what I wanted to pair it with.

I just happened to stumble upon the newly released When You're Fast Asleep shawl pattern on instagram and knew I had found a winner.

The next issue was deciding what color I wanted to pair with it. Because the yarn had all manner of rainbow speckles, my choices were virtually limitless.

After much agonizing and deliberating, I decided on MadTosh Merino Light in Glazed Pecan. It was a good brassy gold, not too yellow, and not too muted. AND it was on sale.

The problem is that I took so long deciding that by the time I ordered the yarn and had it arrive, it was already Thursday the 6th. And I had to have the whole thing done and ready by the 15th. That, my friends, is a REALLY FRIGGIN TIGHT DEADLINE.

But, I got her done.

And she is rather lovely.

I decided to give my project the title of Carnival in the Castle for a few different reasons. One, the original pattern was based on Cinderella's castle. Two, the speckled yarn is the Carnival colorway from Malabrigo. And third, I'm just bloody clever like that.

It was a fairly straightforward knit, which was a blessing. The stockinette sections definitely got a little tedious, but the lace made up for it.

If I remember correctly, I came out with a 78 inch wingspan, which I was quite pleased about. Especially because my shawl is actually a few rows shorter than the pattern as written.

Yes, my friends. For the first time in my life, I KNIT A SHAWL SMALLER THAN THE PATTERN SAID TO!

Maybe I was just trying to get hell to freeze over since it's been so GATDAMNED hot here.

Orrrrr... maybe I was lazy and just didn't want to have to weave in two more ends.

Regardless, I really do love this shawl. And while I'm devastated about having to miss the wedding (the brain gremlins are being particularly nasty in that regard today), I figure I'll just have to find an excuse to wear this whole ensemble to some snazzy future event.

BONUS CONTENT!

Can't really leave off without showing off my hot-as-feck spouse.

He has fully embraced purple as his color and, I must say, the results are rather.... breathtaking.

..............................

I may have a case of the vapors.

ONE LAST THING

I had fully intended on getting my blog anniversary post done this weekend, but with my brain being all ridiculous and depression-y/anxiety-y right now, I'm going to hold off until I'm in a better state of mind.

I mean, I have yet to post one on the actual anniversary anyways. What's another couple of days?

Six Months of Suck

That's what I'm officially declaring the first half of 2018.

I feel like I've gotten to the point of just being numb. I've tried to just cocoon myself up to avoid having to deal with all of the emotions that have sprung up from so many disasters. And by doing  that, I unintentionally cut most of my support net off when I needed them the most. Because I didn't want to have to relive all of the emotions every time I told someone about the latest travesty.

It's also why I've barely been writing on here. Who wants to read post after post about how things are all going wrong? Sure, I've been working on things, too (if I hadn't, I'd be in a crying, sobbing mess-heap in the corner) but none of it really seemed worth posting on here. At least, that's what I kept telling myself.

Yes, yes, I know. That was my Beaverly brain talking.

To set things to rights, I'm going to do my best to crank out enough posts this week to catch up with what has been going on in our lives. Because this blog has come to serve as a chronicle of not only my creative endeavors, but also of the important events in my life. And it's dishonest of me to try and shy away from the darker parts.

Let's get the list of disasters out of the way in this post, shall we?

First and foremost, we lost our darling old man cat, Oscar.

We knew it was coming. He was anywhere between 16 and 20-something years old. We never knew for sure. But he wasn't doing the greatest, health wise. But fate kind of hastened the end.

I will spare you the details, but it was heartbreaking. No time to properly say goodbye or let him know how much we loved him. I still can't think about it without despair threatening to drown me.

And if that wasn't enough to deal with, a few weeks ago my father-in-law suffered a heart attack, which was probably at least partially brought on by the stupid drama surrounding John's grandma's will.

Before you start extending your sympathy, you should know that I despise the man. Right before this, we had actually been discussing how we didn't want him at our recommitment ceremony because we were so sick of the hateful things he regularly spewed at us.

That's been a whole other thing. John's having to deal with some... well, let's say complicated emotions when it comes to his parents. However, that's not my story to tell. But I know from experience how much it hurts when your parents disappoint you.

I WILL say that the guilt tripping and emotional manipulation trying to force John into spending every waking moment at the hospital at his dad's side is fucking ridiculous. And if shit doesn't stop soon, we're going to have a real problem. It's not like, you know, we have a whole life outside of the whims of a manipulative old bastard...

*deep breath*

Okay, sorry. Let's move on. Because I can go on forever about this particular subject. Especially because John is such an incredible person and I HATE when people don't see and value it.

I wish I could say that we were done with his family in this post, but sadly, we're not. Remember the will from earlier? Yeah...

Let me lay out basic facts:

- John's grandma died nearly 3 years ago
- An uncle stole money out of the estate
- Shit went down in a dramatic fashion
- More shit happened that made everyone hate each other
- Literally this has been occupying our life for NEARLY THREE FUCKING YEARS
- Recently, an auction was forced through some legal loophole that sold off the land that was supposed to be divided among the three surviving siblings
- Said auction property included the land that two large storage buildings were on, so they had less than 3 weeks to get them cleaned out and moved

The fighting and arguing and manipulation and backstabbing has gotten us so fed up with the lot of them that we've pretty much completely written them off. And at least one of the uncles, if we ever saw him in person, would lead to a screaming match at the very least. Though I personally feel like a punch in the face would serve better. Alas, I must hold myself to a higher standard than that.

So, yeah, that pretty much sums up all the bad shit that's been going on here the past few weeks. We need a damn break from everything.

Anyway, thanks for sticking with me through these unintended hiatuses. The next couple of posts will be about happier things, I promise.

Until then, I'm going to go throw myself back into my creative work and try to shove this anger back down.

*deep breath*

And so we go.

Fates, Mistakes, and Great Lakes

It was a long weekend, my friends. Full of ups and downs, and barely a moment of rest. Most of it was enjoyable, but some of it...

Anyway, to get the bad out of the way first, a family member is dealing with a health crisis and things are not looking good. There are complicated feelings involving said family member, so it's just a big tangle of emotions and shit right now that's casting a looming cloud over everything. Add in some other family drama... yeah, John and I are about due for a goddamned break from it all.

*sigh*

But let's forget that for now and just focus on the fun stuff.

After dealing with the nightmare of Mojito, I decided that I needed a break from anything complicated and beaded. I settled on FINALLY doing a Find Your Fade.

And it's been everything I needed. Simple garter stitch, fun colorwork, no complex stitches...

We won't talk about how much I've managed to mess it up already and that this is the FOURTH(!) attempt at it.

I think I finally got into the groove and will enjoy the rest of it.

For those of you who don't know, this shawl is written to use 7 different colors.

After much deliberation, this was my final selection.

I'm proud to say that it's ALL stash yarn.

Yep, that's right. I didn't buy ANY new yarn for this project.

Which is good, since I bought a crapton of new stuff at Great Lakes and have to find room for it somewhere in my stash, but we'll get to that.

Friday, John took half a day of vacation because we were supposed to attend a pizza party as part of the class reunion celebration. We ended up skipping that and went searching for a new outfit for him instead. Which ended up being a lot of fun.

John, much in the same way I have, is finally coming into his own. He's figuring out his style, who he is, and what he wants from life, which has been amazing to see.

He's completely come out of his shell. Hell, he's even joined me on Team Emerald Hair.

Saturday was the day of the actual class reunion. My anxiety was riding high, especially because my hair would NOT cooperate with me. Plus, it was a billion degrees out with a humidity somewhere around 1000%. But my makeup came out absolutely killer, so at least I had that going for me.

My date looked pretty damn good, too.

Yes, we were taking a bunch of pics in the parking lot to avoid going in. That's how we roll.

The actual reunion itself was much more fun than I anticipated. Most of the people there I actually genuinely enjoyed seeing again. A few others... well, I'm glad that I only have to once a decade or so.

John and I got the award(? achievement? acknowledgment?) for the couple who has been together the longest. Which really isn't that surprising, seeing as I was only a sophomore when we started dating.

I also got voted "Most Changed" which was probably helped along by the fact that I had completely forgotten my Polite Filter at home. I was unabashedly myself, openly talking about my political views and the fact that I'm poly with an amazing girlfriend.

I don't think that some of them really knew what to make of me. Which is fine. I wasn't there to pretend that we were all the best of friends in school or now.

I was there because I was curious. I wanted to see how people had changed. And I wanted to show off how much better off I am than I was when dealing with the bullshit that was high school.

This may sound weird, but I feel like I had a giant weight lifted off of me. I have changed, for the better. I'm not the same person I was a decade ago. I am making progress in my life. It's not the same progress as others, but it's moving forward all the same.

Before we get into Sunday, I did want to give a quick shout out to my makeup for not only looking superb (as mentioned above) but for actually having staying power. This pic is from after I got home, nearly 7 hours after application, and through about a thousand gallons of sweat (it was so damn hot in the restaurant, ffs).

Sunday was, of course, the Great Lakes Fiber Show.

Okay, really it was Saturday as well, but as you saw, I was a little busy.

I had a minor meltdown, of course, because I had devoted so much of my time and energy into how I was going to look for the reunion that I didn't even THINK about what I was going to wear to the show!

I ended up with the same dress I wore last year, but topped it with Mermaid Lair.

I sadly went it alone this year (except for John, who, while lovely and wonderful, isn't exactly fun to nerd out about yarn with...) and I have to say, it's so much better when you have yarn friends to go with.

Next year, I'm dragging my yarn wives there, whether they like it or not.

Anyway, I was good and did what Mikayla always suggests. So, we made a lap of the whole place before I purchased anything. That took longer than expected because I swear I was stopped every five feet by people complimenting my shawl.

My first purchase was a couple of skeins from the wonderful Jeanne of Destination Yarn.

We had a lovely chat and I picked up two hanks of her First Class Single (a silk/merino mix that is to die for) in Witching Hour. This is actually the same color that Mikayla bought at the open house a few weekends ago, but in a different base.

I've already cast on Spellbound by Boo Knits (which is a complicated, beaded shawl... exactly what I said I didn't want to do...).

This yarn... my god, I want everything made of it. It's so lovely to work with.

Next up was a bulky wool/cotton blend that had an incredible 200 yards per hank for a measly $10.

I have an absurd goal in mind for this, but I think it's going to have to wait for cooler weather.

I also purchased a single skein from a lovely new-to-me dyer, Redbird Yarn Studio.

I'm not normally a single-skein purchaser when it comes to fingering weight hanks, but this color was really calling to me. The colorway is named Ink. How could I not get it?

I ended up purchasing these two mini hanks from the booth next to Redbird.

I realized later that I never even asked either of their names, so yeah... I'm real good at this whole people thing.

My last purchase of the day (besides some delicious fair food after handling the yarn) was another hank of the Fairytales and Fables collection from Morning Meadows Sundries.

They're the same people that I bought the Sea Witch yarn from last year that went on to become Mermaid Lair, which I happily showed off to them.

John actually picked this yarn out for me. And the fact that he looked up from his phone* long enough to actually acknowledge it, let alone make a comment on how much he loved the color, was enough to convince me to get it.

He also picked out the pattern for it. A shawl, of course, and the same designer of Mermaid Lair. Apparently, this is just going to be my new thing. Which is fine with me. I love having an excuse to make more lace.

*Don't read this as him being bored out of his mind and rude. It's his family that's causing all the stress in our life right now and I wasn't about to demand attention when he needed a break from his own head.

So, that's GLFS for the year out of the way. Is it wrong that I'm already excited about next year?

Monday was another "we have to be up early as fuck and this sucks" day since our house is the Prime Parade Watching place.

It's a bit of a tradition we started when we moved in. My grandparents and middle sister, as well as whatever friends are around (Vi, this year), come over to sit on our porch, chat, drink coffee and eat donuts with us as we watch the 5 minute Memorial Day parade that goes past the house.

We kept hanging on the porch after my grandparents left and talked about video games and D&D, like you do. I was working on my Fade and drinking coffee out of the new handmade mug that I splurged a little on.

Said mug inspired me to do something, but that, my friends, will just have to wait until another post.

This one is long enough, don't you think?

Besides, Vi's going to be here in a bit to work on D&D stuff. Which means that I should probably put on pants.

*sigh*

This things I do for my friends.