Sewing recap

Putting away the clean laundry seems to be the dullest part of the job.  Gathering together the dirty stuff and getting it set up in front of the washer and then starting that first load?  It's so full of hope.  But today I've got a bunch of clean stuff that's got to get moving into bedrooms because there is a full hamper of dirty stuff to come through the hatch.

I haven't started a youtube channel or gotten a job, but yesterday felt really hopeful probably just because I wrote.  I felt stronger about getting a master's degree and I felt hope about that and my sewing.  I ordered a bunch of sale patterns, and in the coming months I'll buy fabric to go with it.  I'm trying to stretch it out so I don't waste so much family money. 

The truth is, I have spent so much on all the fabric it has taken me to fix and perfect the designs I've dreamed of.  Maybe I'll waste less now that I am more tuned into what styles and sizes work for me.  I know it takes risks and jumping in to learn things, and that has been true with learning my coverstitch machine as well as putting together knit garments quickly with a serger.  I love the way the serged seam stretches.  I tried making a yellow poly cardigan with zig zag on the regular machine and the seams look less professional.

I've been topstitching less on my personal design tees, but I think I might go back to that.  I'm wearing a navy with white polka dots one today and the coverstitching looks really nice.

Purpose and Insignificant lives

This morning I was doing my routine of dishes while listening to a podcast.  I used the dishwasher, but also need to handwash a bunch of silicone and stainless steel straws.  It happened to be Tim Ferriss interviewing Ken Burns, the filmaker.  First of all, its an excellent listen.  My heart is bursting with new ideas.

But something that has been tumbling around in my brain space the last few days is purpose.  I'm a little lost having been out of the workforce for 17! years now and not having much luck with my applications now that I'm trying to weasel my way back in.  My kids are in school, and they keep me plenty busy before and after as well as cleaning and prepping for them when they are gone.  I also have writing that calls to me as well as sewing design.

I'm not not busy. But I am craving $pay and stability and the rewards of work well done.  I'd like to save for retirement and feel more secure and feel like I contribute and support my kids in that way.  I'm praying and looking for guidance in what I should be doing.  I feel like my options are to work near minimum wage to get actual experience in this decade for my resume and someone that can be called for references.

So today as I was listening (and processing the interviews I've been reading) I realized the bulk of what I consume is about big significant players.  Like a filmaker whose work has been watched by the hundreds of millions.  That's influence!  I want to make a difference too!  That is on my mind a lot, how my small time on earth can influence for good.  Do you every ponder/worry/consider that?

Today, my question for myself is what will you do with your insignificant life?  What will that look like?

telling THAT story

With the feeling that I have a book inside me I keep debating how I should tell THAT story.  When I write about it mostly I see the physical image of the dated stained wood paneling in that professor office the bishops used on Sundays.  I wrote a poem of that image comparing, but mostly contrasting it with the rough unfinished wood of the table Casey made me.

I shiver when I think of that place.  What is so fearsome about it is the way he made me turn against what I felt from god (unconditional love).  What cemented that place in my psyche is that my credits, my grades, and my comfort in the school that had been my goal for years were threatened.  He threatened to get me kicked out of school because I was not sorry for my sexual assault.

I guess I am a bratty girl, claiming no part.  Maybe it was the times in which I was raised which made me know to say NO, to say it three times, and to not hold myself physically accountable after that.  Now...though, now none of it makes sense.  Even if it hadn't been an assault, even if I had chosen to push the limits making out with my boyfriend, how is that cancelling a whole year of higher education achievements worthy?

I feel like that mental brain switching was an assault of its own.  Because of him I never spoke of it.  I was supposed to pretend it never happened as some kind of condition of my repentance.  Well, Brother Young, when "forgiving" me, or telling me to throw the letter away made it sound like I should consider it never happening.  That would have been right if that could have made it go away.  If that could have healed the pain. 

But I feel like now I had SO much to process at that time.  And ignoring it for 20 years compounded my physical and mental reactions from the suppressed anguish.   God, I am glad I have been treated for these 5 years and that I live in a time with the professionals that can make that happen.  But I know I have been reminded of this pain point to help fix it in the system and I am praying for understanding of how I can do that.

Daily Laundry

I need to write more so I am sitting down to it with my little cheap laptop.  I write my morning pages by hand in my junk journal, but with writing--I need more.

I've given myself over fully to sewing the past few months, to the point of being called on it because I was so checked out.  I'm doing a little better focusing on each aspect of my job as a mother and giving it an hour or two each day, not the whole of the day.

My serger is giving me fits, so its hard not to just dive into diagnosing it with my mental energy going to watching youtube videos about it and then trying things.  I just walked away, and vacuumed the couch, wiped down it's microfiber, and mopped most of the floors.  When it comes to my work I like to take a deep dive.  And I think most people do.  Homemaking makes it very difficult to work that way, though.  There's one shift of the morning waking, grooming (for every one of them, and me!) and eating and dressing and getting to all of the places.

When I am settled back in here, alone, to bless what I can in this space I usually start with something mindless, which dishes has become.  Laundry switching is too.  I've become an everyday laundry person, now that my laundry is by my kitchen.  Its an extension of the constant loading and unloading of the dishes...in that once I get that going, I pivot over to what state the laundry is in.  We don't ever have piled up dirty laundry with my system so it has its perks.

A house full of teens and pre-that, as well as a man, don't take time to think no piled up laundry is any kind of gift, but maybe they'll see it somewhere else.

Writing (or telling) my story

I have had some stiff painful hands the last week so I'm trying to restructure how I spend my creative work effort.  Maybe typing is looser than hand writing?  I've been doing morning pages every day, hand written as well as sewing. I'm trying to slow down on that too, but man it is hard.  I love it and find flow in it.

I want to write.  I feel like I have a book in me, a story.  I've been facing the demons of thinking no one wants to hear my story based on a lifetime of familial social interactions.  My friends have been good at listening.  Family, not so much.  Being a 4th child and being a wife of a non fan of eye contact, makes me stop and shutter my thoughts before I put them into words.  I feel like my stories are an annoyance to the world around me.

This all came up in my heart as I learned more about youtube and instagram stories and developed the interest in trying them.  I'm not scared of public speaking, in fact I am good at it.  I know this despite my fears and feedback in one on one relationships.  However, my own story...my personal story...I've had a 40 year lifetime of it being shuttered away and I am scared to break through that paper barrier these other people and their issues have held over me.

That's why I write.  But I'd also like to be able to speak and look directly at a camera and let the world know my heart.  I can't think of a place that I can be alone in my home to try to say things outloud so maybe I could try in the car or something.

Blessed or Lucky

Today as I scrubbed the stove with my soapy dishwater and let the bubbly smells of citrus drift up, my heart jumped a little thinking about the layout of my stove, with gas hobs and a big grill surface, not little burner covers to clean individually.

I thought about how that was my dream stove, and here I was in my dream kitchen and realizing so many of the struggles of my life had been lifted and resolved in this beautiful perfect piece of real estate in a place  had always wanted to live.

Blessed, right?  Not so quick am I prone to making that statement because of all it can imply.  Like I did something to earn what I wanted.  Or that god loves and helps me more than his other children in poverty stricken countries.

So I hate to say it.  But I realized today why I still feel it.

Because God loves and cares for me as an individual in ways that make me uniquely happy.  A loving Source would know that I prefer to be in town near all the places I need to run to the kids activities....that less time/money in the car is what I consider blessed.  That loving parent would know that I get panicky in large houses and they aren't healthy for me, so this is compact and juuuuuust enough space for the six of us.

It is a new build that was done 6 months before we even knew about it.  It had great upgrades but I didn't have to make any of the decisions, or have any of the "how are we designing this kitchen" fights that were part of previous home plans :).  It was how it was, but very much how I would have done it.  It sat on the market awhile so we certainly didn't overpay, though.

There is lawn maintenance in the HOA which wouldn't have been our choice as DIYers but once I had my allergy testing, I was able to see how protective that was for my health.  So we are in a townhouse community without our own yard or land with our home.  We share rules and walls with neighbors in a very lowly populated state.  This geographical place is NOT for everyone as I am reminded frequently :).  But it is so for me.

So I feel blessed.  And I hope you do too.  When you are counting your blessings do you laugh a little at what is so great for you but most people don't like?  Those might be the biggest blessings of all because YOU, as an individual can feel cared for.

Have a blessed day.

sewing and designing

I've thankfully been gifted the tools this year to really let my creativity with fabric go wild.


And by go wild I  mean making high quality comfortable clothing, because I am in my forties and sensible.