Life is like a Ravensburger

Back when I started this blog I wrote about how I became interested in sewing.  And the story is true, up to a point.  That point being when my hobby became my obsession.  A year ago I was pretty much told, in no uncertain terms, that the person I had considered to be my best friend found me to be an undesirable person and now considered me an “enemy.”  This came after a rough patch, and I won’t deny making more than my fair share of mistakes, and that more blame lies in my direction than his.  I also won’t deny that in spite of anything that might have been thought, felt, or said, I still consider this person to be the best friend I have ever had, and I still care for him deeply.  So, when it was made clear that I really wasn’t wanted, and that my presence was more of a hinderance than anything else, I did my best to close the door on that part of my life.

I was left with a large void in my life.  Sewing filled it.  That is one of the wonderful things about sewing – it demands focus and concentration.  The only times I wasn’t feeling miserably rotton and depressed were the hours I spent at the sewing machine, or while I was skating.  Of course, as many home seamstresses know, sewing can be powerfully addictive.  Hours I had previously spent talking with friends and going to social events became filled with obsessing over patterns, fabric, and sewing projects.  I started reading sewing blogs as a form of social interaction.  And it wasn’t like I didn’t realize what was going on.  I thought there must be some better way for me to deal with things, but I couldn’t seem to find one.  And the online sewing community is so friendly and welcoming, it is hard to feel like I was doing something wrong.  Although I must admit I have often wondered that if I realize I am using it as a coping mechanism, does that make it ok?  I think the first time I thought I was going a bit too far was when I had such a strong reaction to one cancelled shopping trip.

For some reason, I have always been better at making long term goals to short-term ones.  The problem is that I seem to be rather inflexible about diligently sticking to them.  Even when they take a lot longer to accomplish than originally anticipated.   I used to be very strick with myself about meeting my commitments; where I failed miserably is dealing with fact that some are more important than others.  I couldn’t bring myself to deviate from my plans, even when I my gut told me it was the right thing to do.  Now I seem to have gone the other way – I am focused on the short term, creating sewing goals and projects on a whim, simply because I want to make them.  Since so much of what I had considered part of my long-term plan hasn’t been a viable option for over a year now, I have felt adrift.  I have been trying to find the desire to finish some of my long term goals, but it just isn’t there anymore.  I am too close to the end to stop now, but it is sad realizing that, at least to me, the end result is just going to be a piece of paper that cost far more than it will be worth.

Deep down I know the root of the problem is that I am too much of a people pleaser.  It’s why I left my former group of friends – if I was making life so uncomfortable, then I figured they would be happier without me.  It’s why I moved my sewing machine out of my apartment.  It’s why I can’t get over being such a disappointment to my friend in the first place.  It’s also why I don’t talk about it.  Because the few friends I have left get very frustrated and angry with the sad, mopey, and depressed.

So I do what I have always done, which is sit, and think.  I have been thinking a lot.  Probably too much.  I tend to do that.  I have been thinking about the future, and coming to the conclusion that the career path I am contemplating will probably be met with a lot of resistance.  I have been thinking about how I need to find a better balance between sticking with long term goals and not missing out on the important things because of my inflexibility.  Similarly, I can’t just live the rest of my life depending on my sewing whims to bring me happiness.  It is a temporary high for sure, but in the grand scheme of life, I don’t know if it is really all that substantial.  I have been thinking about how I should go about finding that balance.  I still haven’t really come up with a solution.  In the end, though, despite any thinking, planning, or plotting, I can’t help but feel that I am trying to put together a giant puzzel and missing all the pieces that go in the center.  I can fill in bits here and there around the edges, but the really important part of the image can’t be formed.  And there isn’t much to be done because life is like a Ravensburger – you can’t just buy the missing pieces because all of the puzzels are cut differently.  Anything that is lost is just gone, and the holes will always remain.

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