Sewing was my drug. I could hide away in my sewing room and keep myself amused, busy, and happy for hours on end. I got depressed when I was running out of steam or when I knew I had to go back to work and be functional. I would plan to be able to sew for three days, generating meals to keep people fed while I was closed up sewing, got the cleaning/laundry done so anyone resentful of my habit would have nothing to "get me on". Similar behavior to the addict. I don't know for sure, because I haven't studied it, but a certain amount of emotional transparency was missing, and that is unhealthy, or antisocial, or both.
Okay, but I've learned just about everything I want to, and it's not holding the same appeal. I think because my ideas so far outweighted the amount of time I had to really focus on what I wanted to do, or perhaps because Iost focus. Maybe its because I got good enough that I wasn't doing what I wanted to do anymore, I was choosing projects that didn't push my creativity or take me in a new direction.
Perhaps, however, the problem was clutter. Mental and physical clutter. I have a project I really need to finish and I don't have any surface large enough to lay everything out and make it happen. I took all my trims, all my excess, things I was saving, and ten years of scraps, fabric remnants and ufos (unfinished objects) and got rid of them. Sold them for a token of their worth to someone who would appreciate them. I don't believe I am done. Now, as far as quilting goes, I parted with quilting gold. But now I feel free to find projects I want to do. Fabric, and patterns, live in your memory. In my case they were substitutes for all the fun things I wasn't doing during that time, because I was a single mother, because my time was limited, because I didn't want to shop for me because I was unhappy with my body or couldn't afford it. Trips to the fabric store represented my hope. That hope is still sacred, but it's time for a little more fun, and for treating time a little differently, and I am hoping to evolve in a healthy way.
So I will always love quilting, but perhaps now I can choose projects and have fun shopping for them. I am not limited to the stash. In 2006, I was in a class of six women. We were learning something that was new for me, in fact, if I really knew the technique the teacher was using I might not have signed up. But it's today my favorite quilt to make, and during that class I lost any "fear of color" I may have had or any preconceived notions about what "matched".
In conversation we asked the teacher about how much fabric to buy. She said she tried to always buy six yards. We were shocked. Six yards! (We only need that much for the back of the quilt - that's the upside of quilting - you don't "need" alot). Buy as much as you can afford: at least three yards, six if you can afford it. I can't afford to buy six yards of anything I love, most of the time. But it's more of a lesson in eliminating excess. If you don't love it, don't buy it.
The excess is not a strength.
I have a long way to go with the better organization of my space, but I'm not going to obsess over that. Time is better spent creating than cleaning or organizing. Now, however, there is significantly less to organize, and I feel alot freer. Maybe all my "triggers" are gone. The scraps and left over ideas that pulled me away from better projects, or more productive uses of my time.
I've never been particularly balanced, and although I hope to find balance in many parts of my life because it gives me more energy physically, it's never been a long term goal. I will be rolling with it, as long as my kids get to their activities on time, and people are fed and clothed in a mostly clean house.
The real question I'm having, now that I've eliminated so much excess, is what do I WANT to do? Where do I proceed? Closing old deals, first, which might take till the end of the year. Than what?
I think an acceptable challenge might be to close old deals faster.
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