Denial as a Form of Grace

I wrote this on September 9, 2024, and published it on another blog.  I am including it here as a way to bridge what was and what is. 

I had an epiphany yesterday.  That may seem an overstatement, but I think it fits.  I woke up Saturday morning and felt completely changed.  Let me explain.  I have been in a funk for a few months.  Not morose or even unhappy just not excited about any of the things that normally get my motor humming.  Workshops, retreats, quilt or fiber festivals or new projects.  I wondered if this lack of enthusiasm was a side effect of medications taken for tremors or maybe the antidepressant, I have taken for thirty years no longer is sufficient.  It is neither of these things.  It is grief.

Saturday morning's aha moment was realizing I had never really acknowledged, accepted and grieved the losses related to the things I could not do easily and without thought.  Eating, drinking, getting dressed, cooking (no knives please), writing, opening packages, handling coins and checking out in a store, typing my pin or making a phone call.  I have focused on my crafting, what is no longer enjoyable and what remains, never the day-to-day impacts on daily living.

I have spent so much time, money and energy in the last few months exploring, buying, starting and abandoning projects in knitting, spinning, and sewing.  Convinced it was just a matter of finding the right "thing" to spark my interest.  My hyper focus on how my tremors impacted my hobbies was pervasive.  So much so, that during my last neurology appointment when the doctor asked how things were going, I complained about difficulty weaving and quilting.  He said, "what about eating and writing?"  I said, "oh yeah that is hard too."

Probably, the lowest moment was several weeks ago when dear hubs got a deep cut on his finger and came inside to clean it up.  I realized despite being a registered nurse for thirty years I was unable to bandage his finger.

Saturday, I made a list of twenty-five things I do each day that are more difficult due to tremors.  Some have to be done, putting in my hearing aids, getting dressed and eating.  Other things are not required and maybe eliminated, earrings I am looking at you.  Mascara you are a goner.  I need to stop denying I need help when it is offered and realize that my abilities have changed, and it is okay.  I also need to realize the impact this has had on my desire to jump into new situations, take classes and attend retreats.  Even going out to eat with people I don't know well gives me pause.  These hands have changed.

 Wow, nine years since I updated this blog.  Alot of water and life under that bridge!  About two weeks ago, I became frustrated by simple hand stitching, somehow an activity that involves multiple needlesticks, blood, Band-Aids and copious amounts of bad language does not spell fun and relaxation.  In desperation for some handcrafting relief, I picked up my knitting.

I stopped seriously knitting in 2017.  My time was spent spinning, weaving, dyeing wool and falling in love with tapestry weaving.  I loved all of it!  Especially the friends I made, travels to fiber festivals, learning new skills and off course the beautiful fibers and fiber animals.

Alas, life involves change.  Essential tremors and then a diagnosis of Parkinson's disease last November required some thoughtful changes in my hand crafting routine.  When weaving became a chore, I moved into quilting then embroidery and slow stitch.  Cognitive changes made following even simple cutting and sewing instructions a challenge and those tiny needles were sharp and impossible to thread.

It was at this point; I dug out the knitting needles and dk sock yarn.  It was a fumble and stumble for the first few tries but then something changed.  My hands remembered and I relaxed into the comfort that sock knitting used to provide. Other than a disastrous sock attempt in 2023, I hadn't knitted socks or anything else since 2017.

I know it is just a pair of socks, some simple knitting but it means the world to me.  To find comfort and joy working with my hands again is an immeasurable blessing!