I lost my joy

skeins of handspun yarn

The last few years have not been fun lovelies.

I was in an abusive job situation that completely demoralized me and made me doubt my self-worth. When I found myself in fear of opening emails and crying at my desk, I knew I had to do more than just increase my antidepressants and anxiety meds. Calls to the HR department went unanswered. Employee relations? Don’t even bother. I bounced from panic attacks to severe depression like Forrest Gump was my opponent.

On top of that, Mr. Stashaholic was diagnosed with congestive heart failure. A month in the hospital, followed by a pacemaker implant and an aborted attempt at a cardiac ablation.

Three years passed and then his back started bothering him. I mean really bothering him – to the point where he has to sit or lie down almost all the time. Diagnosis: severe spinal stenosis.

Between the back and the heart, everything fell apart. We’ve been waiting 10 months now for a new surgery date for another attempt at the ablation. This is the last shot. He’s been in atrial fibrillation for 365 days straight now.

All this to bring us to today. Why I decided to start again. Throughout it all, I never stopped making. Never stopped knitting. Never stopped spinning. But I just couldn’t come out of my pillow fort to write. I had lost my joy. The words wouldn’t come. Oh I had lots of things to tell you, I just didn’t have the strength to put them in words.

I have a new job now – one where I am valued and treated with respect. I have started to see bits of sunshine when I peek out from my pillow fort. I have spun miles of wool (see picture above). I am still taking it one day at a time, and still afraid of the monsters outside of the fort, but hoping that by coming back to what I love the most – words and wool – I can start to reclaim my life and my joy.

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