I generally have tried to keep this a knitting/spinning/design blog only, but there’s been some thoughts that have been circling in my head lately, and I have this great desire to share them.
To make up for it, here’s a gauge swatch for the Bex socks I cast on:
That’s on 2.5mm dpns, getting me the suggested 8 st/inch gauge, but I find that since the pattern is a ribbed one (and my purl stitches are always looser no matter what) that the stockinette gauge didn’t really fit. I switched down to 2.25mm while knitting the socks, and that’s working a bit better.
Anyway, back to my musings.
This point in my life has not been the most pleasant. I think the past month has probably dragged me down to the lowest legitimate point I’ve ever had; for the first time, I felt like I had a real reason to complain about the universe, and ironically I haven’t. Well, to a few friends, mostly because I needed them to give me a reason to keep going, but otherwise, I’ve been relatively complaint free to everyone else.
I’ve had time for self-examination. I find myself contemplating the if’s and might-have’s. I wonder at inner strength, whether I have it. I find myself surprised that I’m still moving forward when barely two weeks ago I was sitting alone, feeling alone, and crying. I find myself wondering if I’m stronger than I ever thought. I wonder about trials, what it is about this suffering and legitimate pain and hardship that leaves me crushed. I wonder about relationships, about how my branching social life that costs me no money has made me think less of being poor in wealth.
My might-if’s have been revolving about how I may have handled my recent break-up with A if I had been diagnosed with some fatal illness, something that would slowly eat at me. To know without doubt that in two years I would be gone, wasted, a nothing. Wondering what “that Brooke” would do. I imagine a girl stronger than me, more aware of what’s going on, more willing to call out and rip apart facades of emotional distance to pull out the inner turmoil that had been so carefully hidden.
I ponder a lot, senselessly and mindlessly, at work. I have realized it does me no good, and I think it helps ease the pain of that break-up. You see, I feel like it’s the only thing I might have influenced–all else has been beyond my control, and simply requires I either give up or force through. This break-up, if I had handled it differently, if I had ripped away that distance, it might have gone differently. It might have changed something. It would have been a way to establish control instead of sitting back and questioning as I did at the time.
I was checking the restrooms at work to make sure they were clean, and paused to look in the mirror. What if , I thought, I knew I was going to die.
In my mind, there was a literal few seconds pause.
I will die.
It was like an epiphany. Staring in that mirror, realizing that I didn’t need some disease to eat away me. To realize it didn’t matter if I died thirty years from now or two seconds from now. I will die. And looking myself in the eyes, I realized for the first time what all that cliche ‘living like today is your last’ meant. Not that it makes it any less cliche. But that I did not need some disease to give me an excuse to try and take control of the moments that I could influence. That it didn’t matter. That I will die anyway, no matter what I do.
It wasn’t depressing. It was perhaps one of the most freeing moments I have ever had in my life. I was awed by it, and I have been marveling about it most the evening. Talking to others tonight, socializing, just marveling at this world. Marveling at the fact my mortality and how much sweeter that makes everything.
Perhaps it’s a morbid way of reacting. I don’t know. I don’t know what to think, but my heart is lighter than it has been. I know that I have bills to pay, that things are hard. I can’t control that, not really. But I don’t have to wait on life to give me a disease to let me be that Brooke I imagine, that girl who tries to take control when she can.