In Which I Bury the Lede (As per Usual)

I should be doing many things right now, namely: unpacking my clothes (which means I have to find the majority my clothes), massive clean up of M's bedframe (that was somehow removed from under protective plastic at the beginning of the demolition and can't be moved till "de-hazmatized"), reorging a basement that's so full one requires gold-standard tetris skills to manage it (and till this is done, furniture that isn't supposed to live upstairs is piled in a corner of my living room) - I could go on...

The thing is, I'm exhausted. I'm exhausted on pretty-well every level. I'm about to go back to work tomorrow (after a two-week "break") and I don't even know how my intellectual self is going to resurface. I'm trying to find the spark but I'm like a lighter at the end of its fluid.

My nature is compelling me - I'm scared shitless that, if I don't get up and work on everything right fucking now, I'm going to lose my will (already rather non-existent) and I can't bear to spend the rest of my life in this state of chaos. In case you're wondering about the veracity of one's mind being a bad neighbourhood that one shouldn't visit alone, I'm the very instrument of this misery. I'm the bomb I need to detonate. Scott keeps promising me that he won't lose his will and that, if we do even two hours a week, things will get done eventually. I just didn't think that things would continue to be so challenging, even though Scott warned me constantly, in an effort to prep me for ongoing stimulus.

On the flip side, I'm sure I'm learning many excellent life lessons I'm going to appreciate next year.

But talk about burying the lede. This post is about how - despite the flaws in my brain-state - my broken faith in humanity is being restored - in large measure because I am the most fortunate person on the planet when it comes to friendship.

Let's take a moment to dwell on that: I have awesome friends who show me love and acceptance and support at every turn. They call me to check in. They lift hundreds of pounds in boxes and furniture. They manage my work portfolios when I'm on vacation. They buy me dinner and dessert and listen to me chatter incessantly. They give me beautiful bottles of pink bubbles (that are real Champagne!). They inspire me with their diverse experiences and philosophies.

I have always said that, when it comes to friendship, I won the freakin' lottery. They should write on my gravestone: She reveled in friendship because she had the best friends.

Which brings me to the most fantastic experience I had yesterday. Gillian - who truly is as adorable in real life as she is in your blog feed - made a point of it to invite me to a sewing meet up (despite my not having looked at a machine in 18 months) and sweetened the deal by a) picking me up / taking me there, b) making me a NEW dress that actually fits (Lady Skater, my fave design ever) and a gorgeously-fitting new black T-shirt, c) cutting me out a Camino Cap T pattern plus fabric while d) standing by me with confidence-inspiring words while I serged it together amongst a group of utterly lovely women. And then she gifted me a copy of the "dress of the summer" pattern: The Fiona Sundress. Can you imagine such generosity?

Not only did Gillian take me away from the overwhelming in my own environment, but she guided me through an experience that might have been differently overwhelming, but wasn't, by making it normal. That's the mark of a terrific teacher and an excellent friend.

But let's go back to the part where she made me a dress and a top. I freakin' need that dress and top! They fit so beautifully. She chose perfect fabrics (I will post photos soon, I just have to take a shower before anyone sees me in anything). The dress is in animal print! What I learned yesterday, what metaphorically smacked me in the head, is that I have to stop with the goddamn fitting perfectionism. Lord, people - Gillian didn't even have my body there when she cut out these patterns, and the clothes fit.

Let me say this in front of an audience so I cannot back track in the future: Perfection is the enemy of the good because there ain't no good once you slice it to shreds - 3/8 of an inch at a time.

My goal as a sewist, over the coming months, is to go slowly (I don't need to make a capsule wardrobe in a weekend - not that this ever worked, given my natural pace) and to make the assumption that I'm not so much a special snowflake on the fitting front that I can't make a change or two to the vertical dimensions and call it a day.

If I want to be different - and I do - if I want to grow as a person and as an artist - then I need to see things through a different lens. If I can sever myself from perfectionism when it comes to the things I make - the things that are supposed to bring me joy - then I will be able to transfer that awareness to the other areas of my life.

Yesterday Gillian gave me a wonderful gift that I will not forget, one in lieu of the beautiful clothes that she made for me. She brought me closer to myself, and for that I am very, very grateful.