Goodbye February and good riddance. I am not sad to see you leave.
I’ve been in a slump and I am not sure if I know how, or even if I want to pull myself out. I have a birthday tomorrow and my ability to objectively assess the past year has been thrown out with the bath water. I’ve been fretting over it, feeling like I haven’t accomplished a thing. It’s been one of those in-between years.
The whole thing has put me in a bad mood. I am sorry friends, family and coworkers. To take my mind off things I’ve decided to tackle a rather large project.
Let’s be honest – it’s not something I’m known for. So this year for my birthday, instead of obsessing over what I haven’t yet done with my life, I am going to try and grow. To fix something about myself that I am not all that satisfied with. I am starting with patience. A majority of my unhappiness stems directly from how impatient I can be. Impatient to get over my broken heart. Impatient to write the next manuscript. Impatient to know where I will be in three years.
The problem is that I don’t like messes. Especially messes that hang around for a long time. I like my life and my surroundings to be neat and tidy, polished and wrapped up with a lovely bow. I don’t mind making a mess, but it needs to be cleaned up as soon as possible.
It starts with the chair pictured above. Like me, it could use some fixing. Right now it’s tattered and has its insides exposed. And it’s going to get a lot worse before it starts to get better. It will take time, way longer than a day (it’s taken almost a week just to get to the state it’s currently in). I know that. I anticipate that.
It’ll be an exercise, to carefully remove each piece of fabric, to note how it was assembled and how it should be put back together. To not rush through it. To not get upset and frustrated with myself when even the seemingly simplest thing takes four times longer than I think it should. To not scream at the sewing machine when a thread breaks or at the cats when they get in the way. To live with the mess. To remember to step back and just breathe.
Why even attempt such an impossible task? The chair, while worn, is in no way broken. Shouldn’t I just learn to live with the blemishes? Or, instead, just replace it with a newer piece of furniture? But on the whole, I like this chair. I like the shape, the form and it’s perfect to curl up in on a Saturday morning with a strong cup of coffee and an enticing book. I just don’t like seeing its rips and tears every time I glance upon it.
I have a vision. I can see how amazing it will look, recovered with a raspberry sheen. An unexpected warm glow amidst a room filled with greens and blues. It will be completely my own and that’s important to me. And I know I will be happier with the finished result if I have the patience to do the job properly.
I don’t really know what I am doing. But I am capable of figuring it out along the way.
A work in progress.