Not Everything Needs To Be Written

I’ve thought about writing nearly a dozen different pieces over the course of yesterday and today.

A mix of:

Was “escape” too harsh of a word?

Let me tell you about the time…

Sometimes I miss the familiarity…

Why I’m not dating…

Even the incredible conversation I had with my doctor yesterday—about tinder, kindling, and how to rebuild the fire that is alive in each of us.

Maybe I’ll write about those things in the coming days and weeks.

Maybe.

But every time I thought about it, my brain said, nope… we’re not going there.

Whatever is going on under the surface right now doesn’t need to bleed all over the page.

And it doesn’t have the bandwidth for the process of writing about any of those things right now.

It’s saying, let’s take a break.

So I am.

But—

I can feel the restlessness in my body and my brain.

Even after a very challenging workout this morning, I still wasn’t settled.

I had difficulty focusing.

I couldn’t make up my mind.

I kept wanting to doom scroll on TikTok—and I gave in for a little while.

And then, finally, something shifted.

I realized what I needed.

Not rest.

Not discipline.

Something new.

Novelty.

Different.

So I broke out the bag of crochet kits I bought a couple of months ago but never started.

I dug through them, found one I wanted to begin, pulled out the pattern—

and immediately realized I didn’t have the right hook size.

Darn.

So I picked my second favorite and hoped I had what I needed to make it work.

And I did.

I’m six rows into a blanket now.

I might give it to my sister.

It was exactly what my brain needed.

Over the next few days, I plan to go back to my almost-finished lightweight summer top.

I have about ten rows left on each panel, then I need to block and steam them and figure out how to sew them together.

I also need to get the rest of the supplies to turn my mandala blanket into a wall hanging—finish sewing the pockets for the rods onto the backing and attach it to the blanket.

This is all brand new for me.

And my “figure it out” muscle is feeling a little weary.

But there’s no rush.

I have time.

So instead of bleeding all over the page,

I wrote about this.

The wall my brain hit.

The pivot.

The small thing that helped.

And the belief that everything will be better tomorrow.