Phillip and were having, what I thought, was a miraculous time. I was knitting, he was gaming. That’s what we do. Then I got up, tried to put some dishes away and I slowly watched him watching me…..
“You can’t use your arm, can you?”
“No, having trouble today, but I can put the dishes away with my right arm. It’s fine.”
Quickly, he expressed his concern. “No, no no no. Not fine. You’re left hand barely works anymore, your teeth are killing you. Now, come on! I’m tired of watching you in pain.”
We talked about it for a good long while and we….debated. (Ok, argued. His version: I love you too much to see you in such pain. My version: I can handle it.)
Pushing myself to knit to fix my teeth and pay the bills is just doing damage to my arm. So, once I get my teeth fixed up, my arm will be too damaged to continue knitting to fix my arm.
I don’t think we’re going to make it to February 16th, which is when I was going to finish knitting teddy bears in homage to it being 5 years since I sold my first one to get out of homelessness. But, in all the hope of knitting to reach an end, to fix my teeth, to give us some security, to raise us up, to keep us alive…my arm just can’t take anymore. So, these last bears I knit, will be the last.
I would rather fix my teeth, rather than my arm. Sounds crazy, but, I’m at the point where I’ve poked a new hole in my belt buckle to keep my pants up. Wearing two pairs of socks so that my boots fit.
And he keeps asking, “What do you do next?”
I’ve never been fond of playing my cards before they’re ready, so I always just mention, “I have a plan.” And I do. I truly truly do. I have an idea of what I want to do with this blog. And it involves all of you. All of us and everything we’ve been through. I’m good at writing. I’m good at inspiring. I’m good at reminding of hope. And in my own way, I’m awfully good at bringing people together with the reminders that our commonalities should be shared through our differences. A safe haven for knitters in a way that hasn’t been seen before. Not a “Ravelry” and not a “Knitty.” Something different. Those sites have done incredible things for the art of knitting. But, I’m going to move into the soul of knitting. Because that’s where I speak best. That’s where my voice find it’s resonance. Why, and how, and for whom, are my calling. Not the stitches themselves, but the intention behind the stitches.
I have a solid plan for this blog and perhaps it’s time to start on that sooner, rather than later. Because, it does not seem we are going to make it to February. The more I knit, the less I can. The less I can knit, the less my teeth and arm are tended to. The less I knit…..
Well, let’s just say, I will NEVER be homeless again. I won’t allow it.
So, I keep picking up the needles, and as they drop to the floor because I can no longer hold them, I suck it up. Foolishly, I suck it up. I raise my chin defiantly and proclaim that I can do it. But, with my mornings I notice more and more the slowing of my knitting. My left arm just can’t follow the speed of my right arm. I drop my needles more now. I bend down to get them and find myself grabbing them with a grunt and a moan and quick, “f*!k,” under my breath.
With the orders I have to complete, and the bears I keep knitting up to keep the money coming in, the last teddy bears I have will be the end of my teddy bear making, long before February arrives. I’ve watched my work slow to the point I have to make amends for it, apologize for it. I watch my right arm take dominance and notice that my left arm will no longer hold a coffee cup. I watch myself reach to my husband to hold him and my left arm won’t lift as high to meet his shoulders. I’ve watched my left arm try to point at something and shake as it lingers mid air.
So, this is where we are. Concerned, pressured. Pushed to move quickly….like any knitter approaches a new and intimidating project.
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