In the months preceding my departure, some vital piece of my work persona had crumpled. It’s not important what caused the destruction, only that it happened; I’d had no idea I was so fragile, which might have been the most disconcerting part.
I was elated yet shocked; I’d ostensibly left to more thoroughly pursue my dreams, but I was utterly bewildered. The launch of this new chapter in my life was fueled equally by part of “My time is NOW!” and “My HEART is IN PIECES!”
I’ll be honest: there were several distressingly long chunks of time where I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. I had to use tools I’d never used before to create something I didn’t have much experience crafting, Thankfully, I had the iron embrace of a contract pulling me towards action. I had to figure that shit out.
Careworn, sad, broken 2015 me looked up from the scarf she was knitting and said, “Wait, what?”
People were surprised at self-taught knitting and the unraveling because the older we get, the harder it is to not be good at things. It’s very uncomfortable. We spend our lives in pursuit of mastery, running away from looking like we don’t know what we’re doing. I am trying hard to be a proud fool. Now that knitting is in my arsenal, it’s time for me to choose a new thing I can fail at repeatedly, so I can continue to push the envelope of being unsuccessful.