Before I begin the real post, I’d like to warn you that this long overdue post is very long, and somewhat emotional and personal too. I don’t usually like posting much about my personal life in my knitting blog, but somehow, it feels appropriate.
Some of the readers of this blog are close to me, and know the details of my life, which over the last 7 months has changed dramatically. The first post of this blog was made on November 30, 2007, when life for me was very, very different. At the time, I was still living with my husband in the US, with a stepson only 7 years my junior, and 5 cats. As of January 17, 2008 however, that all changed.
My parents helped me to uproot from my very unhealthy and abusive relationship at my request, and transplanted me back to my homeland of the Fraser Valley in British Columbia, Canada. The circumstances my separation are complicated and many, so I won’t go into the, but suffice it so say that this is one of those situations where it was very wise for me to leave. Things got very messy very quickly as my soon-to-be-ex-husband tried to find every excuse in the book to make things difficult for me, including making ridiculous demands for money and property, and asking me to lie in court, and then acting as if I was the one who had come up with the idea all along. Starting to see why I left?
Life has been hard the past few months. I started a job just a week and a half after leaving, I started to pay back what to me was massive debt to my parents, and I was getting over the shock of my new life as a "separated woman." The word divorce made me shudder, but I knew it was for the best. Well, after months of paperwork, statements, property and finance battles, I met with my estranged husband and a judge for a settlement conference, where I kicked his sorry butt up one side of the court room, and down the other. The judge realized quickly my ex’s tactics, which included trying to insult, demean, and rail road me, and took every opportunity afterwards to make him squirm and point out the outrageous nature of his demands. Needless to say, I got my way and left that court room trying to keep the giant grin from my face. Because even though I couldn’t stand him anymore, I wanted to be tactful and respectful. This did not stop of course, the squeals of delight my mother and I made when we got to the car though. Or the celebratory drinking in the hotel room that night.
I mean come on. The bad dye job! His cell phone going off in court! The judge calling his demands bogus! The look on his face when my mother made it obvious that we had documentation that he was lying! It was priceless! Karma, you are my friend.
So far, the progress of my life, while very difficult to get through at times, has been great and rewarding. If only I could say the same about my knitting progress.
With all the paperwork that I had been doing, plus how much I was using my hands at work (I work an auto parts store, I’m constantly lifting things, prying things open, and getting them just generally beat up), sometimes the last thing I wanted to do when I was home was pick up my knitting needles. I know this sounds absolutely blasphemous to you, believe me I could scarcely believe it myself. But trust me, when your hand are raw from washing all the dust and grease off them 18 times a day, even the softest of wools and silks feels rough, and the knit stitch seems like a chore. The week before I journeyed down to the US of A though, I picked my needles back up and began a pair of socks that have been dubbed Happy Feet.
And I bought victory yarn, and a yarn basket that I’ve pined over for almost a year, and I found the perfect project for my victory yarn!
Progress has begun once again in my knitting life, with the Panda Wool already cast on for a pair of socks, and the Lantern Moon basket in use. I can’t help but think about how much I miss my cat Rascal, who is in the States, and I haven’t seen since January 17, 2008. I miss him terribly, and I was thinking about him while at work today. But then, I came home to this sight:
While the family sandbag – I mean, cat, Misty, is no Rascal, and won’t sleep on my head, or curl up with me, or follow me around until I pay attention to him, she definitely brightened my day when I saw her sleeping on my bed and purring when I walked over and began to pet her.
Rascal, I miss you, you will never be replaced, but I hope you understand why I had to leave you behind.
My progress has been phenomenal, and many people have expressed how they admired my strength to get out of a volatile situation, and to start over again. I’m proud of my self, don’t get me wrong, but every time I see his picture, I wonder why if this progress is so good, why it has to hurt so much.
But as the French say, c’est la vie. Such is life.