CRAFTING: NO WORSE, BUT NO BETTER EITHER

I read an article in The Atlantic this morning that really resonated.  It was entitled: "What It's Like to Get Worse at Something" by Olga Khazan.  She was writing about her challenges on the ski slopes, recalling when she used to be a good (OK, passable) skiier, then she got pretty bad at it.  It was an encouraging article; funny and also well-researched.  No, studies show that doing something over and over for 10,000 hours of practice does not make you a genius at it.  Some people just have natural talents and also "cross-training" is more beneficial than repetition.

I feel so much better about my crafting capabilities, or lack thereof. I really want to be able to create artistic things with my own two hands.  But it seems "want" and "can do" are two very different animals.  So unlike the author and her skiing, I've never been very good at crafts and I'm still not.  But this is not for lack of desire.  I do, however, lack perseverance.

A spin through my craft bins is like a history of my intentions.  

I have all many of tools for making beaded jewelry -- beads (glass, plastic, wood); elastic, string, wire, clasps, earring fittings, little tiny pliers.  I also have a book on making jewelry.  I lost interest.

I have dozens of brushes, pastels, watercolors, oils, acrylics, canvases, watercolor paper, sketch books, watercolor markers, colored pencils, blank cards/envelopes all just waiting for the Muse to speak up.  I also have books on how to draw/paint.  I painted a couple little watercolors I like; the rest, not so much.

I have colorful papers, napkins, jars of Mod Podge, little boxes and cardboard forms.  I also have a book on how to decoupage.  I created one little box I like. 

I have chalk paint and a pamphlet on how to convert old beat up tables with stained tops into vibrant and unique pieces of furniture.  I did one table.  Gray.  Ugly.

I have roving, needles, a foam pad and a book on needle felting.  My efforts look like weird blobs.

I have a sewing machine, a bunch of fabric, and a quilt I sewed years ago which is now pulling apart at the seams.   Also I tried fabric art jewelry.  Nope. 

I used to have an SLR camera but never really understood how to use it properly, even though I have books on photography.  I'm thankful for my iPhone 13 which makes my photos look pretty good in spite of me.

Most recently I was gifted a felt heart by a friend and then became inspired to become a "heartist" myself, so I went out and bought a bunch of felt.  Actually TOO much.  I had no idea how much "1/2 yard of each" would turn out to be when I stood in line at JoAnn's!  I also bought a big bag of fiber fill and some embroidery thread.  My first (and only, so far) heart looks like a 5 year old was trying to make it.  The whole enterprise was going so poorly I gave up and went back to reading my mystery novel.  (Still a cool idea -- https://www.1000hearts.com.au)

I have bins of yarn and books on crocheting.  YARN!!!  I can do yarn!!!  Well, I can create blankets and afghans of the simpliest crochet stitches that are passably OK.   I don't try to make anything that has to "fit"; it just has to lie flat.  And most of my creations are of one color with maybe a different color border.  And I like to use a fairly large hook with yarn that isn't too delicate.  I lose interest if the whole project takes too long or is too complicated.  But I do love crocheting in my own sort of mediocre way.  I used to make dozens of baby blankets to donate to a layette program for "needy" new mothers where I used to work.  Now I'm donating to Project Linus.  It's fun, relaxing, something I can do while watching TV or chatting on Zoom.  It's my craft!  I'm probably not going to get any better at it because I don't care to.

The "new me" is giving myself permission to see all these attempts and lack of follow-through not as failures but as experiments; finding appreciation for my willingness to try new things, appreciating others' more skilled efforts, and deciding to support real crafters by buying their wares without thinking the well-worn and wholly untrue phrase, "I could make that..."  

At least, that's the view from here...©

P.S.  I now have passed the craft bins on to my granddaughters who delight in all the possibilities.  They are far less self-critical than I.  And we have lots of fun on Grandma/Granddaughter Craft Days.  They always tell me I'm doing a good job!  LOL

THIS TIME I MEAN IT...

See last post and the big "I've therapized myself and all is well" announcement.  Well, it was not that easy.  Not ANY of it was easy; it wasn't quite over yet.  It ended up I really did have to contact my therapist, and being the amazing professional (and just smart and cool woman) she is, NOW I think I'm coming out of a depression that lasted (on and off) since mid-December.  Ugh!

Those who do not experience depression have no idea what it is like and probably just impatiently wish we'd "snap out of it".  Me too.  It doesn't work that way.  Since I try at all times to avoid any meds, and because I have tools and determination and lots of support, so far I have not had to resort to medication.  I just don't respond to it well, as I recall from being on some anti-depressants years ago. But I was very, very close this time to feeling the Depression Monster had won and that medication just might be necessary to keep me going.  Fortunately, my therapist, our couples counseling, many, many long talks with Hub, and the support of a few understanding friends who checked in with me regularly or sent words of encouragement helped me through, and in the past 2 weeks I've started to climb from the pit and see the light again.  

I've stopped therapizing myself for now; not my job.  I was overwhelmed, over-wrought, over-exhausted.  And a lot of things I thought were my fault were absolutely not. I was trying force the real me into a shoe that didn't fit and the pain was almost unbearable.  But the Depression Monster is a liar of Trump proportions -- so effortlessly and smoothly gaslighting me that I became confused, then self-loathing for my stupidity and inability to fix myself, other people, the world, and my life.  I just wanted to give up.  I thought about it. But I didn't.

So here I am, back to...I don't know.  I feel like I've walked through fire and am changed, but not sure how the "new me" will manifest.  For now it's enough to just be grateful.  I feel freer, lighter, quieter, more humble, more compassionate, less burdened, less responsible.  I feel "less" and "more" simultaneously.

I'm sad that I gave up teaching yoga when there were days when I couldn't get out of bed and that my class disbanded.  I'm sad that I may have lost future opportunities to be with certain friends when I "resigned" from a group that had met together for several years.  I'm sad that I had to take such big steps out of my every day life that I sacrificed the good with the bad. I'm sad for me that I was in such pain that much of the past few months feels like a fog even though I was present and walked through my days at times relatively normally.  

AND I take to heart the realization that for over the past 4-6 years, I had loss after loss, disillusionment after disillusionment, grief after grief in all areas of my life and tried to carry on with a smile on my face...tough it out...activist-ing and psychotherapizing myself to cope with it all.  I was burned out, finished, done in so many ways.  Something had to give. One incident broke me, but it was so much more than that.  

I'm recovering from all of it now.  Giving myself space away from every single thing that helped cause the build-up of debris that broke the dam.  I'm continuing to learn about myself, because that's my path. I'm continuing to try to be in connection with those I care about, because I can't imagine not.  I'm learning to protect my inherent sensitive nature, to understand that my brain is wired differently from others' and that's NOT my fault, nor theirs for not understanding me or how I might respond to events that to others are no big deal.  I'm learning to be gentler with myself, my life; learning to lean in to positive experiences and away from those that are disturbing and terrifying.  I'm learning to be, hopefully, more accepting of what "is" and with less attachment to the outcome of any of my efforts.

Here are the new words that guide me:  

Mindfulness: being in this present moment, one after the other, noticing without attaching.

Gratitude: finding everyday joy in the simple and sublime; watching the story unfold with warm curious attention.

Hope: this definition by Vaclav Havel resonates -- "Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something is worth doing no matter how it turns out."  No longer naively trusting, but still willing to be vulnerable, I will share my heart because it hurts too much not to.

With this mantra -- mindful grateful, hopeful -- I'm back.  Or at least making my way, with deep humility and a bit of awe.

At least, that's the view from here..©

Photo Credit: pixabay.com