Tag Archives: hoarding justified

The Muse is Accustomed to Being Fired


I’ve had to let the muse go due to intense hip, back, shoulder, wrist and hand pain. No longer am I enamored of my patchwork collection, instead I am judging it wanting and a waste of time. It probably isn’t either of those things but the chronic-pain-colored glasses view it as such. Every step I took yesterday hurt my hips like a wide band across my lap, from deep in the joint to radiating outward over the muscles of my thighs. By the end of the day, of course, it was worse and I lost my composure entirely and had a sobbing fit in my bed while the husband and the dog tried to figure out what to do with me.

I suspect my emotional fragility at the moment is partly due to the above and maybe somewhat influenced by hormones (O, perimenopause, you wretched, wretched bitch). While I cavalierly said I didn’t care if I was once again making a collection of things no one would buy, today I DO care about this and perused my Etsy shop just to make myself feel worse. I don’t know why I cling to Etsy when I haven’t the time to devote to keeping it up. It’s the excuse for my thrifting addiction, “I can sell it on Etsy” but no, no I can’t, not consistently. There are times, like today, when I feel like my constant making of things is foolish and sad since rarely do I have an answer to “What will you do with this?” or “Who would buy this?” Earlier this week I was content to simply be creating, happy to be in the process and satisfied by the process and the products. But the process that makes me so happy and satisfied is the same process that means I was in bed crying at 8:00 pm due to pain.

The Shrink and I are working very hard on being in the Now, since that’s the only thing we have any control over. Last night, eyes leaking, my brain kept saying, “Okay, so this is the Now but the Now is horrible and what if it’s the new forever (no, no, forgive yourself for that and go back to now) Now sucks, Now is awful!” Or, as my husband finally put it (canceling out hours of mental looping and self-criticism) “Today’s just a bad day.” Yes. And I have to learn not to then tack on, “And what if tomorrow is, too? Or worse?” Because I don’t know that, and I can’t determine that until tomorrow becomes the Now. It’s a bit of a rabbit hole.

So today is slightly better so far except that I feel like a giant, potentially leaky vessel of tears. I have a massage and maybe that will ease some of the pain. Maybe I will look at my last assemblage of pieces and find it more favorable than I did yesterday. Maybe tonight will not be a night wherein I find myself freaked out about not having pain drugs, sobbing into the dog’s neck and panicking about the future. A future in which I will possibly drown in clothes, fabric, and partially finished quilts.

Reports of My Death, etc etc, Greatly Exaggerated, etc


Oh look, I forgot about my empty little unread blog.

It was an intense semester and there was a point where all extraneous activities had to be set on the back burner. Fortunately, said semester is now over as is work in general until mid-January, 2015. Naturally, I’ve been making things, all kind and manner of things, all of which are lovely and seem not to sell.

I made these:

Polka Dot Ruff 2 Red Bead 2 Rose Scarf 3




And this:


Collar Close Up 1

The are all for sale in my Etsy shop.

That is only the tip of the iceberg, though, so watch this space. I’ve starting working with beading again, which is murder on my hands and strains my eyes but also feels like a grownup version of coloring and is very satisfying. I may even go back to beading some of my artwork, something I did some years ago, gluing tiny seed beads one-by-one and inadvertently sniffing a lot of 527 cement. Sewing them to things is really exciting because I can string up to three tiny tiny beads at one time rather than doing them all individually. Yet, I see a future hunched over a drawing with my tweezers and glue in hand, I do.

Health-wise, I am doing mostly okay. I have cut just about all ties with traditional medicine. I am taking no prescription drugs, and while I know there is no sense in issuing ultimatums, I’m going to stay in that place as long as I can. Massage is helping. I was good to myself and didn’t even cancel my weekly appointment when we were in the hellish stages of pre-production, leaving work and returning in an oily but relaxed state. It was hard, initially, to stand up to someone else’s tendency towards martyrdom and refuse to play, but I did, and it got much easier.

I am learning to avoid the siren song of martyrdom in general, as I also continue to work with The Shrink. Those two things are doing me much more good than all the appointments and drugs and physical therapy ever did. At least for now.

I will try not to abandon you for so long again, I will.