Tonight I will attend quilt guild again.
I don’t seem to be able to relax at the guild meetings. It’s because I feel like such a fraud when I attend. I’m not a “real” quilter. I’m full of doubts and false starts. I make all sorts of mistakes.
And yet sewing is relaxing for me. Stitching by hand comes fairly easily, although, of course, it’s never as neat as anyone else’s stitching. Sitting at the sewing machine and sewing scraps of fabric together is a lot of fun. It’s sort of like doing a jigsaw puzzle with fabric. Except that there’s not always an exact picture of what you’re making.
I wish I could separate my feelings of doubt from the feelings of camaraderie of being with other people like me. But, of course, they’re not like me, because they’re all great at what they do.
I think some of my personal patches are frayed…
Ghosts will be better off
If they just don’t hang around
Too many opportunities
To do bad stuff can be found
Revenge that wasn’t taken
Can be had now easily
They’ll never see it coming
And when done you just flee
That pile so near to tipping
Gives temptation to a ghost
And the cats are always blamed
While you just clear the coast
So much better to be resting
In a place much more serene
So just don’t let us stop you
Please go and blow this scene
One thing that means the most to me is discovering my true self. I’m one of those people who is constantly questioning herself. Have I done the right thing? Is this what I truly believe in? What should I be doing with my life?
None of these are easy for me to answer, because I’m always second guessing myself. Do I really feel like a spiritual person? Or do I want to *be* a spiritual person, and therefore I’m convincing myself that I feel like one?
There has to be a better way to go about this. Maybe if I just accept everything I do? But then maybe I’m just believing that I *should* do this or that, rather than really wanting to do it.
Sigh. I thought getting older would make life easier. I was wrong.
The greatest lesson I have had to learn is to trust myself. It seems that I set myself rules everyday, to determine what I have to do, and how much to do. And then, the next day, I “break” those rules. And feel guilty. Since I’m the one who “set” the “rules”, that doesn’t make any sense. I need to learn that, however much I decide to do in a given day, and how I decide to do things, those are the right “rules” for that day. I know myself best. (Or at least I think I do. I’m still working on that.)
The title of my life would be “Woman, Unorganized”.
My surroundings seem to constantly mimic the state of my mind. Everything does have a place, sort of. Mind you, that place may change from time to time. The main problem, though, is that there are *too many* things to fit in that place. As I read recently, “you can’t organize excess.” Perhaps that’s why my brain has so many problems shutting off so that I can go to sleep. There are too many thoughts flitting about in there, with not enough room to call home.
How can such little creatures
Make such an impact on our life
So comforting to hold them
Their loss cuts like a knife
The best thing about yesterday was that I got to spend time with my best friend, my husband.
To me, he is the most wonderful person in the world, and I love spending time with him. If I were to define the feeling of being “at home”, it would be “time spent with my husband”.
I know that I am truly blessed, and incredibly fortunate to have him in my life.