What Happened When I Took Up Quilting

I am amazed that I survived my most recent attempt to remain self sustaining. At age forty, a pretty appealing forty at that, I still look back and ponder what exactly was I thinking working three jobs nearly around the clock? Yes, it was my brilliant idea to piece together the profits from three different avenues until I found that one that would sustain me. I reasoned that it would be just for a little while. I now believe that desperation was settling in. I was falling behind on my car payments and my rent was due.  Prior to quilting it was not uncommon for me to go back and forth mentally on who would/should get paid, the lienholder on my vehicle or my friend who had opened her home to me as I hastily made that mad dash.  She was uber supportive of my leaving my failing relationship to take refuge at her home and pay half of the living expenses. That settled it. I could not fail her. I must be loyal.  After accumulating multiple jobs to string together until I landed that one perfect place of employment, I resolved to catch up on everything or die trying.  I adopted an overly optimistic train of thought to keep me going.  I paid attention to my speech. I cautioned myself against using words that described my pursuits in a toiling stressful manner.  In fact, rather than referring to them as jobs I preferred to call each job I reported as a "field trip".  I separated myself from the experience as much as possible by envisioning myself as woman simply conducting research. I looked at it this way, I love people so here I had the opportunity to meet and visit with a different set of individuals on a daily basis routinely. No work environment was beneath me. I was thankful for the opportunity to work. I believed that God would bless the work of my hands because my heart was right.  All I wanted was the opportunity. So my daily grind morphed into an adventure in customer service, I would be ever so grateful on each field trip and deliver the absolute best that I had to offer to all I came into contact with.  I would be pleasant, personable and professional but most of all, grateful for each opportunity.  I was determined to be the female version of Akeem from the movie "Coming To America".  Yes, I'm sure that you can tell, I love that movie. I would take my regal air with me and exhale commitment and a diehard perseverance into the commonplace endeavor.  I would work with integrity and attention to detail.  I would not let the grind define me but I would carefully quilt together the revenue from each pursuit,  I would create something beautiful of something exhausting and stressful. I was determined to piece together the scraps and survive by any means necessary. So, field trip number one found me working at a popular nationwide houseware retailer. This pursuit came about as I was visiting the store for one of my therapeutic sessions.  I have a habit of when I am a bit down or depressed I try to find beautiful things to simply be around to lift my spirits. Pretty things and indulgent surroundings sweep me away mentally. So it was that day.  I was longing for the comforts of home as walked through the store amusing myself with plush bath sheets and table settings.  On the way out I decided to ask if the store may need help as the holiday season would soon be approaching.  A lovely woman with the most comforting and entertaining spirit masquerading as a cashier handed me an application.  I completed the form, smiled, returned it and then headed for a reprieve at Starbucks where I planned to strategize on my next move.  I had been completing applications both online and the old fashioned way for some time now.  If I received one more, just one automated response I knew I'd scream. While I sat and sipped on my green tea I received a call to return to the store and meet with one of the managers. I thought this must be a sign because hardly thirty minutes had gone by since I left the store. I said a quick prayer and vowed that if offered the opportunity I would accept it make it work. After a series of meeting with all three of the managers which I found to be strange to say the least.  I was interviewing for a position as a customer service associate not management wow! I was determined to make it work even in the face of the managers' insistence that the job would be no walk in the park, making references to one of my daily requirements, the ability to climb a ten foot ladder and retrieve items for customers. I smiled from the safety of my seat on ground level looking up at all of the various products and simply said "sure, I could handle it." Was I afraid of heights? Before that day, I suppose I never really knew just how afraid of heights I actually was. Again, I was determined to survive and pay all, well maybe not all of my debtors. 

Field trip number two found me continuing on with my contracted position with the school district working with elementary aged children in an after school program.  Being able to continue spending my afternoons with these little people actually gave me something to look forward to, some way to feel as if I was making a difference. I felt more in my element at the school somehow. I can't explain it, but more myself. Actually I was providing the same service to each client, excellent customer relations. One set of clients were adults of course and the other clients were a group of children.  The adults at my first field trip actually proved to be much more difficult to contend with.  The customer base at the store seemed to be comprised of individuals who held what I believed was a strong sense of entitlement. The store catered to this set of clientele with a philosophy that one person at any cashier's station constituted a "line". Often I would leave field trip one headed directly to field trip two tired yet relieved to be dealing with children for the remainder of the evening. At least with my kids many of them had not yet had the benefit of being fully raised as of yet, so the concept of simply common courtesy and decency was not common to them yet. 


Field trip number three evolved by happenstance. Yes, I did say field trip number three. I was in much more of a financial strain and a dilemma didn't quite describe what I was going through so I was in full blown crisis mode. I struggled to remain my cheerful, optimistic and spiritual self in the midst of it all but the weight of my needs were heavy on me. One day while stopping for gas, one of the things I truly detest doing, stopping to pump the gas. I know that the fuel has to find its way into the car but I just hate having to stop to do it. I long for the days of full service stations.  On my way out of this particularly pristine station it occurred to me that they were open 24/7 and only a few feet away from my first field trip.  I decided right then and there I should add this little diddy onto my quilting pattern and see what comes of it.  Did I want to, really? No, but until a fabulous full time position with benefits presented itself I would simply do what I needed to do.  Bohemian at heart I knew that I could learn something from every environment while adding my own unique flavor.  I would be a student of this experience. God would bless the works of my hands until the next door opened for me.  There, I created an opportunity for myself. I walked right in and enlightened the management of that store how they ever made it without someone like me. After an interview with a feisty Phillipino woman who was the area manager, I assumed field trip number three.  I would work from 10:00 pm at night until 6:00 am and head to my next field trip for 8:00 am most mornings.

 

Most of my days my quilting reflected 16 + hour work days. I was exhausted yet encouraged that somehow it would all work out for me. I retained my dignity while setting my pride aside.

Doing It & Doing It & Doing It...The Aftermath

So its been a while since my last update on my bohemian faith journey and my how very much I have learned.  I have discovered that at my absolute best I am quite an attractive mess. I say an attractive mess because externally I believe that I'm holding up pretty well physically. The packaging isn't too frayed but my God am I a mess within. Thank God that the predicaments that I have an uncanny ability to find myself in don't show up on my face. A combination of good genes and trust in God has kept me somewhat aesthetically intact. I am a person with a fierce sense of loyalty and as the year comes to a close and I will take that into account as I conduct my yearly personal audit.  I must find a way to offer that fierce loyalty to myself. Well, so much has transpired that I feel at a loss on exactly where to begin on little update. Lets rewind the tape a bit. During the summer months I had vacated a relationship that I believed simply wasn't working at all.  I exited stage left in grand drama by leaving my then love interest with nothing more than his beloved New Orleans Saints chair in the middle of the room strategically placed in front of the television. For one, leaving the television was the right thing to do I believed because he had been good to me and he loved, loved, loved television, well ESPN. After months of taking two steps forward only to be pushed four steps back I surmised that our relationship simply could not nor would not work because we were two fundamentally different people and the likelihood of either of us changing was slim.  I held onto resentment and bitterness like a pitbull as he held his ground as well.  He was extremely loyal to me as I was to him, yet our love language differed greatly. We basically clashed on how we wanted to live, what I felt was acceptable and what was not.  I was judgmental and prideful. He was relentless in his refusal to bend.  Tenderness was not his strong suit.  He was a phenomenal provider because his heart was a living, pulsating organ whose only function was to cover and care for. He was a man who actually enjoyed caring for others in his own unique way. I wanted for nothing yet desired to be treated compassionately and carefully like the lady that I am. He was not into doing that and was adamant in showing and telling me that "I was not that important" nor would he "place me on a pedestal". My lover simply failed to understand that I did not want to be placed on a pedestal. I wanted the pedestal that I already stood on to be respected.  It was erected with a firm foundation in who God, my Creator designed me to be.  I saw myself as valuable and of pure quality with a sense of self esteem that was/is ironclad intact.  We went round for round. He let me down and I most assuredly agitated him to no end.  I required things of him, expected a certain level of treatment and frowned in disgust at his blatant way of ignoring my hissy fits.  Our moment of no return arrived on Mothers' Day weekend after visiting our respective families in Louisiana.  I fumed at his responses to me that I believed were a ploy to annihilate my sense of self worth and self respect. I truly believed every word and argument was a part in a diabolical plan to break me down mentally so that I could perform and behave like the women he had more than likely become accustomed to dating.  I vowed that I would not be controlled by a man! Our disagreements always ended with my feeling unheard, devalued, discounted and ignored. I believed that he would never make efforts to alter his behavior.  The day after any argument he would without fail get up and prepare for work and kiss me on my forehead as he departed before me leaving a credit card for me. This act always infuriated me because along with the kiss and credit card there was never an apology, one of which I always believed I deserved.  He always went on with his day as if nothing ever happened.  I always found a way to stew over his transgressions, his faults and flaws, his inherent inability to treat me like the fine lady that I was.  Did I mention that he provided for me very well after I relocated with him post lay off? Oh all of that was irrelevant to me as I made my getaway. At the end of a contract position without a new job awaiting me, fueled with 100% anger and bitterness I packed my bags and all of the furniture and fled the scene. The weeks that followed my exodus were a combination of emotions.  I needed some time to come down from all of the adrenaline that came as a result of the non stop arguments.  I worked on regaining a clear mind.  I tried to reestablish some consistency in working out.  I had created a self sabotaging self care regimen.  I medicated the madness with wine that worked grossly against my cute quotient which invariably made me feel worse about myself. Within the relationship I saw myself as the victim, the person being "done wrong" oh so wrong and I focused almost entirely on him, his actions and inactions. Our mini dramas became the topic of nearly every conversation with my girlfriends.  I deserved better I believed yet I was doing very little to attain it. I whined and complained to no avail.  So after moving in with a friend I settled into a new life of struggle and confronting myself, the self that perpetuated problems within my own life. I did return to work and amused myself with the little people I spent my days with until the organization that employed me stressed me to no end. I found myself slipping back into a familiar pattern, winding down with much too much wine. Not good at all. I walked away from that school and job hunted to piece together an existence on my own. Financially I had now taken on a rental obligation that proved to be quite a stretch for me as I attempted to get back on my feet, which I never was quite able to do.  Enter the fall, with a season change I vowed to pull myself together somehow and soar.  I took up what I call "quilting" where I would valiantly piece together jobs to meet all of my expenses.  In my mind I would keep doing it and doing it and doing it until somehow I was right side up again. I was staging a comeback. What I did not know then that in the midst of my comeback a heart cleansing would occur and I would see myself through different eyes. My current situation was not a situation afterall but a classroom that I had stumbled into. Now the time to prove just how teachable I was had come.  Would I stop, look and listen in the aftermath of my mess?