Auld and New

I’m learning to crochet. Something I’ve tried a number of times before, but lost interest very quickly. I can have the attention span of a gnat and often expect things to come naturally and quickly and if they don’t get a bit pissed with it. Or at least, I used to.

Perfectionism is what I yearned for in everything I did. The perfect musician, teacher, son, friend, uncle, creative and so much more. But I NEVER got there. In fact, I set myself up to fail continuously and would fall apart because of it.

Now though, I realise how imperfect I am. How imperfect the world is. How nothing is what it might seem to be, especially online. We are all imperfectly perfect as humans. We are like my crochet. There, but with bits missing and bits added in. Picking up as we go. Losing as we need to. We show our scars of a life lived. We have laughter lines of times when life has been great. But the biggest thing is that each of these lines and scars are perfect, just as they are. They have our stories woven in to them. Our experiences. Our love and our hate. Our anger, sadness, laughter, seriousness, energy and so much more. And I embrace them. Each and every one.

I love how the crochet is coming on. It is obviously honest like my approach to life. What you see is what you get and I will not apologise or change that, despite what some might yearn for. I won’t fake it. I won’t pretend life hasn’t happened. I embrace and I look it right in the eye and accept it, whilst also finding meaning in it. That’s the honesty I want in my life.