Today I had my first class from http://www.stitch labs.biz in Austin. I’ve seen for years but have acquired many bad habits. Bad habits in sewing and life. Working on changing bad sewing habits and bad life habits.
Category: love
And Sew it Begins
As I have said in my earlier posts, I’ve become a recluse. I have begun to worry if I am developing agoraphobia (the fear of public places). It’s so easy to stay in my apartment and the more I do it, the easier it becomes. I have made the first step towards to shutting the door or should I say opening the door to prevent that from happening.
I have signed up for three weeks of sewing classes at Stitch Labs in Austin. I have been sewing for more than 40 years, but didn’t want to take a class that would be so frustrating I would end up feeling like a failure. So I selected a beginner II class. We will make a pillow with piping and a zipper the first week. The following two weeks we will make a book style bag. I hope to brush up my skills and then possibly take a more advance class.
One of my most cherished memories are the dresses I made for my daughters and all the Halloweens I made costumes for them and then later on for my neighbors’ children. The photos bring back such happy memories. With this class, I hope to take the first step towards making happy memories again.
Text vs Email vs Letter
According to the internet there are six billion texts and 100 billions emails sent every day. Personal, handwritten letters are almost extinct. When I searched online for how many letters are sent everyday all I could find were estimates from several years ago and it was for total pieces of mail. The number was about 700 million which would include advertisements, bills and just general junk mail. So there is no definitive answer to how many personal letters are sent daily.
Should it matter how you communicate as long as you communicate with those you love? Speed would be the primary argument in favor of a text. You write it. You hit send. And the message is almost instantaneously received on the other end. Argument for e-mail is that it allows a time trail of communication with each email sent being time and date stamped. So aren’t those methods the best? Don’t they make the most sense?
If you are trying to send a simple message, then yes, those methods work. But I was thinking about the importance of a handwritten note or letter and why it has so much more significance. First it takes time and effort to hand write a note, then address an envelope, stamp it and mail it. So just the very act of doing it says to the receiver you care. Second meaning can be carried in the handwriting itself. Handwriting is personal. Everyone has a slightly different style. And over time a recipient can see changes in the writing. Does your mother’s hand look weaker than normal? Is your friend stressing certain words differently? Next, a note or letter can carry the scent of the person who wrote it. We’ve all heard of the perfume scented letter but what about one that has the scent of smoked wood, or vanilla or anything that leaves a personal mark. It creates a sense of being closer when you are aware of the scent of the sender. And if we only communicate by text and email, when we are gone from this world what will remain of us? How will future generations know we loved our family and friends? What written evidence will be left? Certainly not our texts and emails.
So take a chance. Go buy some inexpensive note cards (they usually don’t allow a lot of room for writing so the sender doesn’t feel overwhelmed by the need to fill the page), buy some stamps, compile a list of five friends or family members and write them a short note. Make it a habit. When I receive a note or letter in my mailbox among the bills or junk, it completely brightens my day and all for under $1.
The Future
Years ago I took a Bible study class and the question was asked if we would want to know our future if we were not able to change whatever may come? I said yes. Everyone else who was 15-20 years older than I was, said no. They explained that as humans if we knew the future we would spend our time focusing on the hardships and sorrows to come rather than embrace the joys we would experience. At the time I wasn’t sure I understood. I do now. If I had known fifteen years ago the heartache, betrayal and pain my husband (now ex-husband) would bring, I would have missed twelve years that did hold many happy times with my daughters, family and friends. My focus would have been on all the wrong things.
I don’t know what my future holds. Right now I find looking too far down the path frightening. I spent 30 years of my life working towards a life I no longer can have. I’ve spent the last three years being very bitter and angry because I feel like my life was stolen from me. However the bitterness and anger can’t sustain me. I have to move forward and build I new vision for my life. Hence the name of my blog, Life Rewritten. I am having to rewrite my future.
What I hope the future holds is good health for myself and my family. I hope I finally let go of the bitterness and anger, and move towards gratefulness and joy. I hope I finally can find a job so I can support myself.I hope to find a way to truly make a difference in this world. I hope my daughters and son-in-law stay joyful and happy. I hope my single daughter find Mr. Right. I hope I eventually have grandchildren. Those are my hopes and I believe there is a high probability of those things happening. Now for my dreams, I don’t honestly think they will happen. I dream of meeting Mr. Right (not likely at my age because men like younger women). I dream of owning a home and not living in an apartment for the rest of my life. I dream of being able to afford to travel again.
But we will never know our futures until our future is in our past. And we can’t change our pasts or completely control our futures. So faith becomes key. Hebrews 11:1 NIV “Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.”
French Friday
For Tjparis French Friday love quotes. Some lyrics from J’ai dit oui. It is from the French musical Robin des Bois sung by Caroline Costa.
Wildflower Wednesday
This is for tjparis at La vie est trop courte pour boire mauvais vin.
I received these lovely flowers today from a friend for my birthday.
A Map as my Muse
Start in Kingsville, Texas on a long ago October 1st
Then 18 months later move to Oklahoma City to be near your mother’s family.
Then a couple months after you turn 8, move to an entirely different place and suffer culture shock in the Twin Cities of Minnesota.
Learn to speak with a new accent and use different slang, learn to love snow but you stay there for a short time and when you are 11 and finally fit in, you move to Denver,CO.
While you live there you go to 5 schools in 3 years and live a middle class life right smack in the center of the wealthy. It’s the first time you understand that some people have opportunities you’ll never have. You really never get settled. Then halfway through 9th grade at the age of 14 you move further west to Las Vegas, NV.
Now the above photo doesn’t represent what Las Vegas looked like when I moved there. It was a town of just 300,000 and not 2 million. You live a fairly normal life despite what people had predicted. You learn The Strip is the adult equivalent of Walt Disney World and if you lived in Orlando you wouldn’t go every weekend. You live here 8.5 years, go to high school, graduate college and then marry a man you barely know because you feel in your heart this will never be home. So you marry and move to Cedar Falls/Waterloo, IA.
You are surprised that you suffer from homesickness since Las Vegas never really felt like home. You have culture shock again. You adjust to the sub-zero temperatures after having lived in the desert. You’re disappointed that your new husband is totally so self-focused he doesn’t hear the sadness in your voice. You wonder if you made a mistake but you won’t admit it or accept failure. Then you get a job, get pregnant, and five days after you have your baby you move to Davenport, IA for your husband’s new job.
It’s known as the quad cities because two Iowa cities meet two Illinois cities at the shore of the grand Mississippi River. You know no one. Your husband travels and then leaves and goes to Texas for a new job a mere 8 months later. Alone you pack up and drive with your 11 month old to Irving, TX.
You remember the awe you felt when you saw the Cowboy stadium. You remember the hope you had in your heart that here your husband would be more in tune with you and connect on a deeper emotional level. 1 year later you buy your first home in Lewisville, TX. Then 5 years later you buyer a bigger home for your expanded family of 4.
Again your heart is full of hope that now things will change. Life is full with love for your children, your friends but there is still a misconnect with your husband. You ignore the signs. You try to fix it. And you wonder where it is that you belong. Are you a misfit like your husband seems to believe? Is there a place for you? Would your husband ever love only you and be faithful? You are here for 28 years and build a life then your husband’s secrets become too much to bear and he leaves you. He doesn’t want to change or stop drinking or give up erotic massage parlors and prostitutes and porn and peeping tom activities. He finds a younger woman and pretends that his family doesn’t exist. Your daughters are grown. You are left alone and forced to start again. But where do you go? Where do you belong? You go to Austin, TX with no idea if this is the place but you try to find the hope for happiness that was lost so long ago.
Will Austin be the bridge to my future? Is there happiness on the other side? I don’t know. I’m still on the journey.
Why don’t I listen?
Our assignment in writing 101 was to look back at our posts and stats. Clearly the letter I wrote to myself was the most popular. As I reread the post I am slapped in the face with an ugly fact, as good as the advice is, I don’t take it. I need it. I definitely need to take my own advice but I am fighting an internal war.
Little battles are raging and I can’t seem to find the energy and focus I need to not only win a few battles but to ultimately win the war. I have to completely rethink who I am and what my life meant and what it will mean. It’s like I have spent 30 years looking into a warped mirror so the reflection I saw wasn’t the real me. It was the warped image controlled by my ex-husband that I saw. I saw only what the narcissist wanted me to see.
Now it’s imprinted on my brain. All those warped messages are carved deeply into the recesses of my mind. Can the damage be undone? I am not sure. Websites about narcissistic abuse have helped but finding a counselor that understand the seriousness of the damage done by a narcissist isn’t easy. I only have health insurance through the end of the year so if I don’t find someone soon that can help me see my reflection as it truly is, I have no idea what I will do.
So fellow bloggers, keep me in your prayers. I haven’t found a job and I am weary of the search. I am weary period.
Writing 101 Vignettes
I blew on the window and saw old Jack Frost. Taking my finger, I drew a heart but as quickly as it was drawn, it was gone. Is that what love was like? Was it there one minute and gone the next? Did it come in on the wind and leave with the rain? This is a question I couldn’t answer. And no matter how many time my breath gave me canvas to draw on the window pane, t never gave me the answer I was seeking. The love I was seeking was never there.
She sits at the table and stares out the window. It’s a cold day, the wind is blowing and frost forms on the glass panes. Even from across the room, I can feel her longing. She doesn’t move. I am not even sure she blinks. I do see her reach for the glass. She never draws anything but a heart. And the heart, the love never lasts. It always fades away before she has a chance to capture it.
The house looks so warm. The snow is slowly growing deeper. The flakes are large and heavy, sticking to my hat, coat and gloves as I make my way towards my car. I see her everyday looking out the window. She never smiles. I wave to her but she never waves back. Even from here, I can sense something is right. Sometimes there is a heart on the window, but before I can tell if she has written something else, it has faded.
Why doesn’t she look my way? Why doesn’t she feel my love? I reach out to her. Doesn’t she see that? Maybe My love doesn’t come in the manner which she expects. I am not a knight in shining armor. I won’t marry her. I won’t forcibly move her from the chair and the window, but I will wait. I will wait patiently. She used to know me. We used to spend time together, quietly talking and listening. But she turned her eyes away and lost sight of what matters. Now she sits and draws hearts on the frosted window pane, when all the love she will ever need is here with Me, her Lord.
My life on an unexpected path 