knack for craft

One of my super powers is anticipating the needs of others, and I’ve discovered several others on my journey back to hope.

I can hyper focus on meaningless superficial shit (as she says it in a sarcastic voice).

A menagerie of heartless filtered materialism, stacked neatly in my frontal lobe ready to consume.

I’ve never felt worthy of that consumerism. Instead feeling content with thrift and used items, or heck making the thing myself.

That’s one of the side effects growing up with a single mother with little money, and the knack for craft.

But the opposite is quite true. That consumerism isn’t worthy of me.

I know how to live with little, for long stretches of time. But now I’m learning to accept that I can have brand new, unused things. Athough I’m still uncomfortable with it.

The hard worker, instilled in me by my mother, needs to work herself to the bone in order to deserve something.

This type of thinking, of unworthiness, is difficult to break. But my girls have shown me new paths of thought that I can take.

The mind is capable of so much growth and rewiring. The fact that I discovered these new paths is proof that my mind can change.

I am worthy. And I don’t need anyone else’s approval for it.

I’ll reluctantly admit that I have been on my phone way too much during quarantine.

Some time is spent for good like writing and editing pictures. Some for distraction, and other times for that mindless consumerism.

And not just for whipping out my card and making a purchase.

But buying into the bullshit people portray.

Editing their lives with filters and fake smiles.

Spontinaety is replaced with perfectly stylized still lives at the ready for the next clone to copy and regurgitate.

Everything must be recorded or it “didn’t happen.”

I get caught up in it, sure. A sense of belonging, especially right now when collectively we are all lonely, is desperately what some people need.

But I’ve never been a follower.

And I want to reach out to people, specifically with this blog. But I’ll chart my own course in order to do it even if it takes a little longer.

I don’t know what I’m doing.

All I know is that I need to keep writing to release the endless amount of thoughts and ideas from my skull.

Usually when I begin the journey, and its important, the destination becomes more and more clear with each step.

I am definitely in a funk though. I’m just very sad.

The isolation is part of it. My daughter constantly testing me is another.

But a gargantuan weight of pure sadness is the one year anniversary of my girls birth and passing is this Saturday.

My mom is the only person who has asked me if we are doing anything. I’ve decided to get a cake, and I set up a little pinterest style “party” table to satisfy my creative itch.

It feels like a million years have gone by, not one, and I have all the grey hair and dark circles to prove it.

Hello darkness my old friend, I guess you will be here for awhile.

Join me on my path back to hope~