Finished season 2 of "Picard" tonight. That last episode was hard to watch. It finally hit real close to some of my own traumas that I had already recognized it was dancing around. Healing hurts, though...and this was important for me. Those characters raised me, and now they're guiding me one last time.

I bet season 3 is going to be rough.

I wasn't sure yet whether or not my lantana had survived the winter. Today, the first new leaves are showing up!

I have now knitted 26 out of 1,000 hexagons for my blanket, so I have... Hold on...carry the 1...

A lot more to go!

#CoSoKnitting

Being laid up in bed has given me plenty of time for writing today. Is it good quality? I don't care at this point. I'm putting ideas into words. They can be trimmed and polished some other time.
#CoSoWriting

Day 2 of running a fever and feeling like my whole body has a headache.

I'm going to cry if I can't find the energy to knit today.

There will be a day when I demand that the Universe reveal to me "why I'm even trying to write this damn story, anway".

I'd really appreciate it if somebody shows me this on that day.

Watched a couple of "Picard" episodes with my Most Beloved One and rolled some twists of yarn into balls. It's been a long time since I last had such a cozy evening. 🥰

I know what the intention of the words is. I feel, though, that complimenting talent instead of skill unconsciously programs us to think, "I can't do that thing because I wasn't lucky enough to be able to do it perfectly within 5 mins of seeing someone else do it. That other person is lucky that it's easy for them."

"Oh, you're so talented! I wish I could knit!"

Then get to work, because I have many talents but this is not one of them. This is skill that was woven from stubbornness and spite, tied together with tears and lots of cussing. Stitches cast on with fear and bound off with rage.

Even if people tell you they want your honest opinion, "It smells like Strawberry Shortcake hosted an orgy," is probably not the response they are expecting.

I've spent my whole life so far being TOO concerned about pleasing other people. Thinking I would be safe if I figured out how to keep other people happy. I'm ready to do what makes me happy, and spread that joy to others. And try to stop worrying so much (I'll still worry some) about the people who refuse to receive that.

I am 45 years old. I spent the first 38 years trying to make someone proud of me who, even if we were still in contact, never would be. Then I spent 7 years accepting that and grieving. It's a special kind of hurt when a parent and child just don't "fit" with each other.

I'm going to make ME proud of me. Despite all the times I've been accused of being "so proud of yourself", or not caring about other people "because you only care about yourself"... No. That was never it.