Has it really been 10 days?

Well, time flies, as they say. Though I don't know how much fun I've been having. My LYS Socks are still on the needles, as is my sister's satchel, little Jonathon's blanket that I may end up giving to him when he leaves for college, all the same UFO's (unfinished objects) looking at me from the corner.

I think my knitting is mirroring my life. I feel I have stopped moving forward. Or I am waking up again and realizing things like just having clean clothes for the kids and making the choice to get out of bed each day is no longer enough. And strangely (and sadly), this awakening is making me not want to get out of bed each day. I want to bury my head and just be happy with the status quo DAMMIT. I am safe in that space, with no one expecting anything from me and praising me for what little I have been able to accomplish. The part of me that so knows all that is a cop out is being over thrown by the "I'm the victim", the "I'm just too tired" and the "Good enough sometimes is" parts of me that are so much louder than the grown up, responsible me.

And so I hide in my knitting without ever really finishing anything. I start a million things, because starting something feels like forward movement. It is not, it is all smoke and mirrors. It just turns into the ball of such-and-such in the knitting corner reminding me that I'm going to have to get off my ass and do something. Hike up my skirt, suck it up, cowboy up - however you want to say it, I'm at the crossroads and I'm scared of either direction. You know you're fucked when even the road often taken frightens you.