Yesterday, I found myself in a major meltdown of sorts.
One of those moments that it’s always good to have no witnesses to.
Perhaps that’s a uniquely Joy-thing.
Anyhow, there are a couple of truths I’ve learned in life.
First: No one calls me Joy.
Well, I call me Joy. But I always seem to have some nickname (eh, hence quilty joyjoy).
Past history has proven Joy to be even more daunting than a child being called by his or her full given name.
Joy, written in a text, or said on the phone, never ever, ever has anything good come of it.
You can bet my major meltdown came after a couple of Joy…-moments.
Second: Someone special, despite the miles, seems to know the moment I’m at my breaking point.
My friend has been with me through some of the most desperate moments in my life, including being told I had multiple sclerosis and the challenges that accompanied that diagnosis. She’s feasted on homemade soup and rolls, or even just peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, when I’ve stretched my budget to the limits as a single mom, but still wanted to share a meal with a friend. She’s offered comfort sitting with me in the salty air by the ocean, grieving the loss of my mama after a very short battle with cancer, because she knew that meant home to me.
She’s been there to just listen, and to dry the tears I seldom share with others, and rightly calls me a “lukewarm rational.” She knows I don’t let the world in all too often because I don’t like the risk or the hurt. She tells me that I’m one of the strongest people she knows, but I keep telling her that I am so very tired of having to be the strong one.
Yesterday, after one of the hardest losses in my life, before I’d even put down my phone, she seemed to know and was calling to reassure me that I’d be okay even if I couldn’t see that at all.
Third: Quilting and writing help me maintain my composure and sanity.
I have a very quiet, simple life and I like it that way. Except that when my lukewarm rational-brain goes absolutely haywire (aka no composure or sanity), I make drastic choices, such as contemplating giving up quilting and tossing out my paper and fountain pens, or moving the contents of my website to trash, which if you notice my minimalist skeleton of a website, is just what I did yesterday.
My pal reminds me that I need to keep writing and keep quilting, and not to give up. She tells me to write letters I will never send, finish quilts even if they don’t have a home, and just to keep going.
Fourth: Insomnia is boring.
Insomnia is a drag, and less fun when I say I’m not going to quilt or when I delete Twitter and try to shut the world out. A few hours of insomnia and wondering about the weekend football games, upcoming hockey season rosters, and no desire to pick up a book and read…maybe my decision to delete social media was drastic. I like having a running archive of recipes I want to try.
I must not be alone in those rash decisions to disappear because it seems websites give you 14-30 days to reactivate your accounts.
My not-so-little meltdown yesterday, as unwelcome and unfortunate as it was, has given me the chance to get things organized better and maybe start to rethink where I go from here. I’m not sure what that is yet or what it will look like: life, quilts, or website.
Now most certainly, I didn’t back up my data before throwing in the towel and at a certain point I realized that I had a few very real commitments that I need to keep both to myself and others. Ultimately, the reason I started this was to share my love of homekeeping and quilting and provide quilting patterns and tutorials along the way.
I suppose I just needed a gentle nudge from a friend to keep me on track, and as much as I want to sit home and throw a pity party for one, it’s just another moment to grow, learn, and be strong–even when I adamantly don’t want to be.
I appreciate your patience as I attempt to put the pieces of my website back together, hopefully in a more user-friendly and organized fashion.