I started this blog because I enjoy writing and was excited about knitting. And by doing these two things in combination, I somehow stumbled upon an amazing community, great friends and of all things, a book deal. Call it passion, call it harmonic convergence, call it dumb luck, call it whatever you want, it really is a dream come true. So why do I feel like I’ve hit a wall? Repeatedly. Without a helmet.
How is it that because of my writing and knitting, I never have time to write or knit anymore? It’s like some twisted version of the Gift of the Magi. The whole process of not only writing, but supporting a book has become all-consuming. Honestly, I couldn’t even tell you how long I’ve been at it. I feel like the last two years have been a big blur, like I’ve been on a merry-go-round turned up to eleven. Even the fiberglass horses are looking a little queasy. And when I try to leap off, I land on a roller coaster full of shrieking Girl Scouts with Pink Eye. Basically, my life lately can be summed up by one sentence: “What, are you freaking kidding me?”
I have no problem working hard. In fact, I love it. I get a sick sense of satisfaction from working an insane amount of hours and exhausting myself. Working in the software industry and starting with a company from the ground up has conditioned me to accept an occasional (and sometimes not-so-occasional) 16-hour workday as par for the course. It feels really good to work your ass off and actually reap the rewards.
Of course, when you expend that much gusto on two things work and book it starts to wear a little quicker. I find myself wishing there were an extra day in the week, a secret one that no one else knows about where I can knit and write and correspond with friends, maintain relationships, change litterboxes, sit still for more than 10 minutes without feeling like I should be staring at a computer or worrying about what I should be doing but am not. I seem to have gotten myself onto a human-sized hamster wheel. And what’s worse, I think the wheel has come free of it’s cage because I feel really far away from my life. Everything feels very automated and rushed. Even leisurely activities have a time slot in my head. And rather than enjoying them, I find myself thinking about what I need to do one the rest period is over.
And what’s even worse is that I’m really starting to annoy myself. The constant second-guessing of myself, the worries about who I am and just who the hell do I think I am (two very different things, I assure you). Worries about book sales and publicity and future projects are just swirling around and I can barely see past them. If I could see past them, I’d realize just how lucky I am that I have a job that allows me the freedom to take off for signings and events. And that my friends and family are really understanding with my even shorter-than-before-term-memory issues and lack of even the most rudimentary social skills. And that my husband is the most patient man on earth, because anyone else would have packed up and left by now, but instead, he does the laundry.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that hot damn, I’m tired and frustrated and freaking out just the tiniest bit and thanks for hanging in there. I blog regularly throughout the day in my head, it just never seems to get to the screen. I think I need to allow, no, demand a chunk of time every day for some quiet time. When I don’t think about work or the book or all the trappings that go along with it. This isn’t a promise to blog more because let’s face it, I’ve never been prolific. But it is a promise to remember to stop and enjoy my life, and a big part of that is writing and knitting.