I knew it had been a while since I’d posted, but it wasn’t until I reviewed my last post that I saw it was at the end of APRIL!
I know why it is, too. Believe it or not, it is a very stupid reason–or actually, sadly–not so stupid reason. Well, the reason is stupid, but the logic behind it isn’t. Unless you ask my friend, Holly and then she will say that everything about my not writing is stupid. And Holly calls things as she sees them. And that means it is stupid.
People started reading my blog. Not stupid.
People that I know, started reading my blog. Still not stupid.
People that I know started reading my blog and telling me they were reading my blog. WOW. Amazingly NOT stupid (I know REALLY smart people who have smart things to do, and if they are reading my blog, well, that is good).
I got scared that people were reading my blog. THAT’S the first stupid part.
So I stopped writing. THAT’S the second stupid part.
Writers write. At least that’s the theory.
And–I think–write in order to be read. Otherwise they wouldn’t necessary write, but just think–or talk–or teach.
But when I found out that people that I knew were reading my work, my internal censor kicked in. Oh, NO–people will know what I think! Oh, NO–I care what people would think about me (that, by the way, would be another stupid according to Holly). What if I wrote something that my readers disagreed with? Here, I’ll channel Holly again:
“So what if they disagree with you?”
“But, they may not like me.”
“Then they probably weren’t your friends in the first place.”
Okay, that may have been my mother and not Holly…it’s hard to tell with that one.
The other thing that has been keeping me from writing is knitting and crocheting. I am beginning to think that they are the work of the devil. No, I’m serious. I “put it out to the Universe to see what would happen” and all of the sudden became an obsessed knitter/crocheter who didn’t have time to write. I tried to tell myself that I was thinking about writing while I was knitting, but in reality, I was just counting stitches and rows. And I wasn’t even doing that very well. Thank God for row counters.
I found, and joined, Ravelry–which is obviously an organization for other suffering from this addiction. We wrap it around the guise of a social network–sharing tips and patterns and yarn–but in reality, it is just a place where we can look at other addicts and whisper to ourselves, “at least I’m not as addicted to knitting (crocheting/yarn/fibers/patterns) as SHE is.”
I also knit with some women from my church which lends credibility to my addiction. We can knit and talk about God so it HAS to be a good thing. Right? Admitting you have a problem is the first step.
I think the first time I suspected I had a problem was when I bought yarn at Big Lots and hid it from my husband so he wouldn’t realize how much I had. I have yarn stuffed in copier boxes in my office. If Scott thinks they are full of paper and goes to lift one, he will throw out his back. Then, I started going to parties and finding other knitters and hookers (the legal ones). They say that addicts recognize each other. It didn’t take us long before one of us was pulling a pattern from our pocket or a project from her bag, “here, let me just show her this ONE stitch and we’ll join you.” My husband suggested we were participating in a needle exchange program. I poked him with my crochet hook.
Next came justification. Julie showed me how to knit/crochet with plarn–plastic bags cut and rolled into balls that can then be used to knit into…well…bags. I suppose there is some irony there. But they were CUTE bags. Who wants to go to the pool with his bathing suit and towel stuffed into a Shop N Bag bag? Or take lunch to the park in a Target bag. I could “plarn” 50 or so plastic bags to crochet them into one bag. I’m saving the environment. Except that I now MUST ask for plastic when I shop in order to feed my habit. After all, it’s free. Which leads me to my next spiral. Free yarn.
My mother was my first supplier. Giving me yarn she didn’t want or need. I did crochet and felt a bag out of a dozen or so balls of wool so that made a dent in my stash. Then my girlfriend gave me a bunch that she no longer wanted. My husband–boy he’s on the ball–pointed out that most drug dealers “give” away a sample, knowing they will have a customer for life. I admit, I did skip Praise Band practice one day in order to hang with Theresa in the hopes of getting more yarn or knitting tips. See how this is a tool of the devil!
And knitting was an easier task to complete during the THIRD reason I haven’t been writing. THE KIDS ARE HOME FOR THE SUMMER. Now last summer, I had this nice, quiet three month old baby who would spend 5 minutes in the pool and then sleep for an hour or two. I actually got some writing done. But this year, I have a 16 month old porpoise-tapeworm-baby hybrid who’s sole purpose during the day is to either throw herself in the baby pool and swim or mooch food off of other unsuspecting pool members who don’t realize that if you feed her, SHE WON’T EVER LEAVE YOU ALONE. You will forever be tagged as a food source and she will stand in front of your towel and give you a sweet smile and “hi” that will melt your heart. If you give her a cookie, she will assume that you will give her cookies for forever–even after the cookies are gone. Remember the scene from Gremlins when they got fed after midnight?
The other two kids are more self-sufficient. I try to keep The Boy properly loaded with books from the library (which does benefit me because we have a GREAT knitting/crocheting section in our library). The Girl, however, is a bit more challenging (aside from all the other things I’ve written about). The Girl is an extrovert to the same extent that I am an introvert. If she is without companionship for more than 10 seconds, she is bored (“And don’t tell me to do laundry because it isn’t THAT kind of bored!”) While I could go DAYS without seeing another person (oh, to go days without seeing another person), she equates people with breathing. She will even go so far as to GASP play with her brother. He, however, is my introverted equal and being equipped with his books, WANTS TO BE LEFT ALONE!!!! The Girl trolls the neighborhood for playmate, but we live in a “go to the shore/summer camp/sports camp/dance camp/grandparents camp” kind of neighborhood and she usually comes home with the declaration, “We are the ONLY ONES who don’t go away in the summer!!!” This is typically followed by, “I hate you!” but she is right. Not about the hating part (for this moment) but the “only ones who don’t go away in the summer” part. Seriously. I’m so tired of Facebook updates about shore pix or vacation pix while I’m folding my 100th load of laundry and picking up goldfish crackers off the floor before the baby eats them.
So there…I justified why I haven’t been writing. Don’t I have great excuses? I mean, when I lament my lack of writing to my family, they point out that I have three children and many activities and how CAN I have time to write. But the fact is–I could have time to write.
If I wanted to.
If I chose to.
If I decided that writing was more important than the things I’m doing instead of writing.
Does that mean I neglect my kids? Of course not. But allowing them to see me doing something that I love is more important than them seeing me fold laundry or vacuum. Do I want my children to learn that the little things–the unimportant things–should come before something that makes me whole?
Does that mean I have to give up knitting/crocheting? Maybe. No, not really. But I need to find a balance. I need to carve out a sacred time to write and save the knitting for when the kids are at the pool. I need to write before the kids are up (oh, do I dare wish for the return of my insomnia?) or when the baby goes down for her nap. And I need to realize that I don’t need to write the great american novel in one sitting. Writing doesn’t have to be a 1-hour adventure. I don’t have time for an uninterrupted 1-hour adventure. But I could put in 15 minutes. Or thirty. Every day. I think that’s part of the problem. If I don’t commit to writing every day–I don’t write at all. If I tell myself I only need to write a couple of times each week, then tomorrow can always be one of the “couple” of times. If I commit to writing every day, then only today counts.l
As for people reading my blog. I suppose worse things could happen then having them disagree with what I write. I could write such boring, unimportant things that there isn’t anything that anyone could disagree with. And that would be the greatest disservice of my gift.
As for this long entry. My dear husband took the kids to Granny’s house for the day. Seriously, I think it is the first time I’ve been alone in the house since….wow, since the beginning of May from the looks of it.
And now that I’ve done some writing (I also worked on my short story before posting here) I think I will do a little knitting. But it is just a small little project…I know when to stop. 🙂