So, last night Jeff and I went out to dinner with our good friends Kerry and Thomas. It was a last minute dinner date as they weren't sure whether they would be able to find a sitter. They finally did at the last minute so off we went. Even though going out in Skagway is kinda like Groundhog Day--there's only one place to go eat in the winter so every time you go out seems exactly like the time before--it was way more exciting than what we had been doing, which was watching the Sopranos from beginning to end for the second time.
Of course, while I was watching I was also knitting on quite a few different projects. I am tragically afflicted with knitting ADD and sometimes need to be surrounded by several skeins of yarn and many different projects all at once so that I can always reach for something else when I get bored with whatever I'm doing.
When Kerry called to see if we wanted to go out for dinner, I am embarrassed to say that I had a mini panic attack because it would mean I would have to put my knitting down for the evening. But, deep down I know that by putting my knitting aside for other endeavors, if only briefly, only makes me a better knitter and also gives my mind a break from knits and purls and fiber and needles.
The first part of the evening was great and I didn't think about knitting at all. But as the evening wore on and I got more tired, my mind began to wander to my cozy little corner of the living room where my projects were languishing in the dim lamplight, waiting for my return. Eventually we said our goodbyes and went home.
The entire walk home I started to feel excited, even giddy, at the thought of walking through the door and settling back into my stash. Sadly, my yarn has become my best friend, which is both good and bad. Good because it has provided a creative outlet for me and also helps me focus when my mind is going in a million different directions. It also makes me feel happy to produce something that gives other enjoyment. And it provides a sense of deep fulfillment that my day job could never ever provide.
But the downside is that it also has become a barrier or wall between me and the world. I knit when people come over to hang out; I take my knitting with me when I go to other people's houses; I take my knitting to bowling night. As long as I have my knitting in front of me, it keeps people far enough away so that they can't get to me. I have always suffered from social anxiety and for many years I wondered if I needed drugs to combat it but instead turned to food. Now, I still turn to food but not nearly as often as I used to. Now I just knit.
This might not seem like the most awful habit, but it's no different than being an alcholic or drug addict. It's just a lot more socially acceptable. It's what I use to deflect the problems of the world that seem to be pressing in from all sides. As long as I have my knitting then the problems can't quite make their way to me. They have been buffered and and weakened so that their full force isn't felt. I'm kind of like the ostrich with its head buried in the yarn...er...sand.