I Don't Even Know What to Write
I thought my first post after that last one would be upbeat, all things considering. I'd been looking on the bright side and despite everything, life looked good.
A problem that's been building between my mother and me for the last year came to a head tonight. When I phoned her and tried to talk about it, she just didn't hear me. How do you resolve a problem when the person you're trying to talk to can't slow down, take a breath and just listen? Listen and really hear?
So that conversation was definitely not satisfying and, in mom's own words, "not productive," either. What a surprise. De-Nial ain't just a river in Egypt.
Anyway... I suppose I don't really want to write about all that. I did manage to figure out that the reason I hate working on that lace stole so much has less to do with the yarn or the pattern or the needles and more (most; all) to do with my being angry at my mom right now. The last thing I want to do is knit a fiddly, complicated gift for her; not to mention that even if I did knit it, I'd definitely be knitting in all sorts of negative feelings, which -- much as I am angry with her -- I just don't want to do.
So I'm giving myself permission to not finish that stole in time for Christmas. If I start feeling better about mom then the door's still open for me to finish it, but if I don't...well, as I said, I'm giving myself permission to not finish the thing. And that feels very, very good.