More madness...

So it's Sock Madness... aka SM10... time again... where knitters from around the world play a speed sock knitting game for bragging rights. Tendinitis in my right thumb always keeps me humble. Frankly, I'm happy if I finish the qualifying socks and with a second pair. Once a toe up or colour work pattern comes into play I gracefully bow out... hollering 'oh, damn' when the pattern pops up is graceful, isn't it?

Being a relative newbie in the game, I'm still fascinated with the whole process and all the work the organizers put into this competition. I know how to organize events. It's a whole lotta work but what the SM10 folks do is like wrangling cats from all corners of the earth who are all special snowflakes in their respective time zones!

So what is it that makes this special snowflake play this crazy game? Focus. This helps me focus on one thing and that, in my crazy, wackadoodle anxiety filled world, is a good thing. The goal of focusing and finishing a funky pair of socks within two weeks (or less) is very satisfying and oddly enuff, calming for me. Maybe because real life is a whole lot of "hurry up and wait and change it again" work projects... and why the thumb isn't too happy right now. During this game, the world around me is shut out while I knit one stitch at time... one row at a time till the toes are complete and I put them on. The satisfaction is huge... as is my smug smile when I look at my feet and think how cool they are.

Anxiety isn't cool but focusing on cool things to help calm the spirit is well worth the effort. Sooooo... let the stash diving commence but first... where is that Arnica for me thumb?

planes, trains and automobiles...

I'm taking the LRT to work now... long story short, I lost my downtown parking but it's not all that bad. I'm saving some money with only buying train tickets vs. parking fees. I don't have to deal with rush hour traffic anymore. The walk to and from the station isn't bad at all even when the wind is nasty.

But... I have to plan things a bit more. No more last minute errands on the way home after work. There's as much leg room as one has on the cheap seats on planes. It gets pretty dang warm on the trains and that's a problem for when my internal solar flares kick in!

But... I get to knit. A 20 minute train ride is enough time to complete at least two rounds on a pair of socks or a few rows of plain garter knitting on a shawl. Focused knitting is an interesting way to calm the mind even with the hustle and bustle and bell dinging.

I've started to read a book called Knit for Health and Wellness. Most knitters know that we do this to keep from hurting people... well, that's what we jokingly say but there may actually be something to that. So... while I attempt to avoid elbowing my seat partner, my goal is to put into practice what I learn from the book and share said learning's here.

In the mean time, let's see how many shawls I can finish on the train over the year... one done... second one on its way.

 

Keep Calm and Garter On...

Today is #BellLetsTalk day... where Bell donates 5cents for every tweet etc. to mental health initiatives across the country. The irony is that exactly one year ago today, I went on medical stress leave for a month. Lots have happened since then... I've come a long way since that major anxiety attack that brought me to uncontrollable tears and down to my knees. I still have a ways to go but I do recognize my growth.

It wasn't a rosy year but knowing today that I'm not where I was last this time last year has given me strength. I've re-learned to notice the anxiety moments and manage them a whole lot sooner. How? Breathing is cliché but that is a part of it. Closing my office door when I need time to myself or even just saying 'no' when I just can't deal with crowds.

And then there is knitting... surprise! I have come to enjoy the simple garter stitch. You know the one... the basic back and forth knitting. What I call my 'stupid knitting'... when I don't have to think about following a chart or counting stitches or remembering if this was the cable row or not. Simple, "I don't have to look" kinda knitting. It is these moments where can just focus on the movement of my fingers and watch the growth of the project... my Zen. There is something very pleasing about that.

When I need to quiet the mind... I've come to learn that the garter stitch is my friend... the one that is always there for you no matter what happens in your life. The one that will hold your hand and just say 'there, there' with no expectations other than knowing that that is enuff.

I'm almost finished my wee Baktus Scarf... maybe it's time to do another Doctor Who scarf... the ultimate in Zen knitting... or a test of my resolve. Either way, sometimes it really is just about the journey.

Sweet 16...?

I'm hoping 2016 will be sweet since 2015 was a year I'm more than happy to say goodbye to. Between the ex-boss that resulted in stress leave from work, managing the returned panic attacks, holding my father's hand while he was in palliative care... and so much more... 2015, well, it wasn't nice knowing you. 

Without my father to talk to, a lot of things built up far more that it normally would have. Strange how that happens. When I'd return from a work trip, he'd be the first person I'd call to tell him all about it. My last week long work trip in December was very stressful and I missed my father even more. He would have talked me down, tell me "all is ok, dear" and then would ask what I was knitting while sitting in those "swanky hotel rooms us government folk got"... oh, he was a funny guy!

My biggest cheerleader is no longer there for me and my un-balanced core needs to hear "all is ok, dear" even more. So this year will be a year of looking to hear those words in different ways. A year of simplifying things in order the clear the clutter... oh, don't worry... I'm not going all granola or anything. While I research and learn and write... it's all to find my centre again.

Of course, knitting will be involved. I believe that art, in all it's many forms, is healing. Knitting has been my healer and carried me in the past and it will again. The simplifying begins with knitting projects that only my stash will support (unless I'm travelling cuz souvenir yarn doesn't count). Good thing I have a large stash. 

Another step... chopped off my hair to a spunky pixie cut! It has always been long since high school. Good thing there's knitting for in-spite of having my own internal solar flares (that's another story), the neck gets a tad cold but oh, the amount of shampoo I'm saving!

While I go through 2016... I will go through it remembering my father's big Irish heart and twinkly blue eyes. While he may no longer be here... my new tat is as my reminder that he is always with me. The knit blue celtic-knot heart with a sprig of Irish Heather is on my right arm so that when I knit, or do anything else, I see it... my reminder that all will be ok.

Last year was a year of heartbreaking tears... this year? Healing tears of joy... and when I begin to doubt, all I need to do is touch my Blue Heart... breathe deep and say to myself, all will be ok.

Oh, and it was yet another shawl I was knitting in that 'swanky' hotel... yup... one healing tear at a time.

'TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS... with apologies to Mr. Moore

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,

Not a gift was wrapped, maybe 'cause I'm soused.

The baking's done and frozen outside with some care 

Everyone best like them or I'll be a damn grumpy bear.

CatMate is nestled... adding more fur to the bed.

I doubt he's dreaming, just snoring instead

I'm still in my pj's... braless of course.

Watching Doctor Who, a marathon in full force.

When out on the deck there arose such a clatter,

I limped from the lazyboy... me face covered in batter.

Away to the doors I muttered, 'oh balderdash'

Peered through the window and checked out the mountain ash.

The sand on the crest of the newly shovelled snow

Made it easier for the neighbourhood dogs to go...

When, what to my bleary eyes should appear

That damn YEG magpie squawking with cheer.

With the little ol' bird, so annoyingly quick,

I knew the lil' bastard was up to his tricks.
More rapid than swallows his curse shouting it came,
He whistled, and cawed, and shouted out names;

"Now, merino! Now, 'paca, now, chashmere and llama!
On, angora! on qivet! on, camel and 'paca!
To the top of the shelf! to the top of the cupboard!
Now Stash away! Stash away! Stash away all!"

And then, in a instant, I heard with some awe
The prancing and pawing of each little claw.
Eating the cookie dough, and turned quick around,
Up on the deck railing YEG Magpie came with a bound.

He was dressed all in his feathers, no more no less
No clothes he wore... sad I was, I must confess...
A bundle of fluff he had flung on his back,
He was looking for a spot to drop his wee pack.

His eyes -- they looked wary, he wasn't too merry!
Those iridescent feathers was none too luminary!
His sad little beak was chomping some chow,
While his wings kept flapping all crazy and how;

The stump of a chip he held tight in his beak,
It was all he had, he looked a tad bleak;
I offered him cookie dough, some raisons for his belly
The closer he came, well, he was a bit smelly.

Soon he was perched on the edge of the bowl,
Bobbing and diving; overeating was his goal;
With warmth on his back and a gentle touch to his head,
Soon gave him to know he had nothing to dread;

He squawked not a sound, but went straight to his pack,
Unloaded all his fluff; dropped pretty needles with a good wack,
And placing his head on the side of me nose,
I tied on him a wee muffler, with a tear, I must disclose;

He sprang from the deck, along with a whistle,

Away he flew with the speed of a missle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he flew out of sight,
HAPPY KNITMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!

of love and loss

I was adored by my father... which makes his death on July 30 a hard loss to live with but live with I must. It has been a tough few months with hospital visits and overnight stays holding his hand all the while working and managing my anxiety attacks. These are bittersweet memories. While these and other memories of my father may fade as I grow old, the love for first born will never be forgotten. 

My father was a story teller... a true seanchaí. Even while he was in the hospital, he charmed the staff with his stories and flirty blue eyes. He had a true Irish soul. It wasn't until I visited Ireland for the time did I realize how deep his Irish soul was. Every tour guide, bus driver, B&B proprietor, publican in the local or the lads in the same local... they were all story tellers. They would drawn you in with a story and there was no going back... the lilt didn't hurt. That's when I fully understood how Irish my father was even tho he never stepped foot on the ol' sod. His Irish grand parents, Sam and Martha McNeill Mills influenced him in so many ways as my father influenced me.  His soul is my soul as we both love storytelling. 

Blue Heart
In honour of Da's blue eyes

Dad charmed young and old, friends and strangers, men and women... his charm came from a genuine love for all he met. He had no malice. Considering he lived in his wheelchair for nearly 30 years he was one of the most positive people I knew. My brother is the charmer and I'm not nearly as positive or as patient or as kind as my father was but I'm working on it. It is his spirit of forgiveness that I am trying hard to emulate right now. You see, a 'friend' betrayed my trust some time ago and while that person is no longer in my life, the damage caused to others is coming to light. I don't do well with betrayal. The last person who betrayed me nearly destroyed me so while forgiveness is hard, I must for my sake.  

If I am to honour my father's memory, I must also honour his greatest gifts. While dad is no longer with me, may his strength and twinkly blue eyes continue to envelope me on my journey of life.

Let the vacay begin!

How many times have we said, "I really need a holiday!" but did nothing about it. Well, after the past few months of managing the panic attacks, work issues and did I mention panic attacks... I'm now on holidays. A holiday that requires flights, hotel and the dreaded bathing suit. Being a woman of a certain age dealing with internal solar flares... I'm getting over the bathing angst and getting ready for some poolside knitting and napping.

We really don't do enough self care. We're conditioned to care for family, overextend ourselves at our jobs, say yes when asked to do things for others, volunteer for everything and then... do it all over again before we even consider taking time for ourselves. Knowing ones own limits is one thing... adhering to them is another. Heaven forbid you say no to someone without thinking you're getting the evil eye for being selfish. We know that self care is important for if we don't care for ourselves, we'll have nothing left to give to others. Yes, we all know that but...

If we don't listen to our hearts and minds they will shut down on us. Mine did... the anxiety levels were so high that a month off and medication was required. I failed to listen... to act... the body and mind forced me to action. We all know people like me... and we say to ourselves, "That'll never be me." Surprise! 

Part of my self care, including my time off was to begin to say no and not feel guilty about it. Not easy but it's a lot easier than I thought it would be. I still don't do well with large crowds (my wee knitty groups don't count) that require my attention but I'm starting to go out in crowds that I don't have to do anything but just watch the goings on. So I'm heading off to California to help celebrate my HearstSister's birthday with style... hanging out at the House of Mouse (the ultimate over-stimulating crowd sensation)... and quietly knitting by the pool resting the weary soul under the bright sun. 

We all must care for ourselves... it's not a selfish act. Not taking care of ourselves and pretending nothing is wrong is the selfish act. I learned the hard way. So... time to find the passport, load the music on the iPod, put the finishing touches on me new tote and more importantly, sort out what knitty projects to bring... possibly warn the hotel cabana boys! Let the vacay begin!