Not all experiences along the path of recovery are bad ... or troublesome ... or problematic.
Sometimes the writing stops simply because I'm busy doing other things.
Namely things with my hands.
Things that not only occupy my hands, but also my mind.
Things that help with the healing.
Right brain things.
Like knitting ... and crocheting.
Creating beautiful things out of yarns.
When I start creating, my imagination starts to run wild with colour combinations, etc. ways I can change the pattern, make it different.
These are the good times. Very good times. Times when I watch something take form and shape beneath by fingers.
When one project is finished, I start another. Sometimes I have several things on the go at the same time.
These are the good times. The times I rarely write about though. I don't really know why. Maybe because it is the good times. Or maybe it's because I have a separate blog for knitting called The Naked Knitter which I haven't written in for ... a very long time. Or maybe because I cannot write and knit at the same time. But knitting ... also crocheting ... are a huge part of my recovery process.
For the last month or more, I've been in the middle of another important step on the road to recovery. I've been getting ready for three (not one, not two, but three - count 'em!) craft shows coming up in November. I took a big step both last year and the year before when I did one craft show (in different locations) both years. This year, I'm really pushing the envelope by signing up for three - all in the month of November.
Hence the busy fingers. And mind. Both busy with creating something out of virtually nothing using a string and implements. Implements being either a crochet hook or two knitting needles. Also a pattern.
I'm now proficient in both. So I call myself "bistitchual" which is a phrase coined by Mikey of the Crochet Crowd which I loved and have taken as mine. It simply means that I can both knit and crochet.
Doing three craft sales is a major step on the road to recovery because it signifies that I'm ready to push the envelope a little bit further. I'm ready to go out more. I'm ready to challenge myself by voluntarily getting into what might be a stressful situation.
A situation where I voluntarily put myself into an unknown situation. A situation where I cannot control who will be there or how they will react to me.
After my doctor put me on short-term disability after my second back to back stress breakdown because I had suicidal ideation, the adversaries didn't stop. They Facebook stalked me and went to management about what they saw saying I was violating ethics issues by writing "Bullies 100; Suzanne 0. Off work again." Management didn't respect the fact that I was off work for valid reasons and called me at home. Management became angry when I didn't return the call. Then Management emailed me and told me I would be disciplined if I did not remove those posts. I remember not only being suicidal - which is why I was off work in the first place - but also very confused. What was objectionable? What was my supervisor talking about? And why were these people viewing my Facebook account? None of them were my friends on Facebook. Which meant they had to deliberately seek out my account.
She made it clear what the offending posts were by sending me screen shots of them which she had accessed at work from my personal Facebook account.
Which brought up more ... sludge. More feelings of worthlessness. More upsetment. More ....
Well, let's just safe I not only felt violated but I felt very unsafe. Fear came in and because my companion for years after that.
I spoke with someone who is very savvy about all things information technology and learned that I could make my Facebook account private thereby assuring myself some dignity, privacy and protection during this very delicate time.
Which made Mangement angry. Because I had effectively cut off the on going soap opera in the office.
But things didn't stop there. The adversaries then drafted a petition claiming that they had a right to a stress free work environment (I could write an entire blog post on that one statement alone) and that I was the cause of major stress in the workplace. It was signed by all but one person on all three shifts.
I was eventually presented with a document giving me an exit package in return for resigning.
At that time, I expressed to the union official assigned to me, the vice president of our small local union, that I was afraid of these people. Of what they were capable of doing. He assured me that nothing would happen that I did not initiate.
All of this to explain why voluntarily going out into public, into a situation which I cannot control, is a huge step on the road to recovery.
I have reached the point in my journey of recovery where I am no longer live in fear of these people. Where I know who I am. Where I am sorting thru the lies. Where I am reclaiming my value and Who. I. Am.
I am woman.
Hear me roar.