Mellow Yellow

I am, I said
To no one there
An no one heard at all
Not even the chair.
I am, I cried
I am, said I
And I am lost, and I can't even say why
Leavin' me lonely still.
~Neil Diamond

 

We have a shaded, secluded balcony deck that doubles as a missile strike zone. The weapons of mass disruption are pinecones – on steroids. They land with a thud that causes ringing in our ears to be confused for as air raid sirens.

Enjoying the little patio requires strategic planning. I’ve pretty much established the point of impact of where most cones hit (and its bouncing trajectory path) and have carefully arranged the chairs in a way that does not require us to wear helmets. A canopy would resolve the issue, but since we’re trying to keep a more important roof over our heads, such a luxurious safety measure will have to wait.

This outside space hadn’t been used much – until I had a series of panic attacks. They were coming on painfully almost nightly and I would run out (in my typical dramatic fashion) onto the dark deck.  I’m not quite sure why being out there helped control my irrational fear of dying, considering the very real possibility of a pinecone knocking me unconscious to the ground.

Since we could not afford anti-anxiety medication (much less, any medical aid), Mom and Marissa shoved yarn and needles in my hands and told me to knit through the attacks. Again, a strange choice when you’re afraid of passing out and possibly falling onto pointy objects that could stab you in the heart. And you all know I would prefer to knit, purl, pop a pill – but it’s true that knitting (and crocheting) without a prescription drug does help with panic disorder.

So on mornings when I felt one gaining momentum, I would grab my knitting basket and head out to the patio. I knitted without any rhyme or reason, just simply for the relaxing repetitiveness. My mind would calm and instead of worrying about the hell we were going through, other thoughts crept into my brain. I attempted to hold on to them as I tried not to drop stitches, but unlike the yarn in my hands, those thoughts weren’t taking shape.

Now that we're a little more safe and the attacks are striking a little less, I want to sit and think about those thoughts. I need this blog to be my escape from the last eight months. I will eventually write about that experience and the incredible spirit - both good and bad - of friends and strangers. And even though it feels like my life came to a total standstill on that evening in January, the world kept revolving and my feelings about other stuff kept evolving. And I need some time to knit it all together.

Comments

[Linda Woods]

Welcome back to the blog world! I can't wait to read what you knit together.

[Stop Hounding Me]

I need to keep that in mind--to grab the needles when everything seems to be too much. Your spot outside looks lovely (falling pinecones be damned!).

[BellaKarma]

Linda ~ Thanks! Feels great to be back! =)
SHM ~ Thank you! Yeah, definitely give it a shot.

[Rainy Day Crafter]

Just taking a look at some of your older posts. I find crochet incredibly relaxing and soothing, especially in times of stress, so I'm glad your knitting helps. Your deck looks gorgeous by the way, and your photo is stunning - the way the sun is glowing though the trees and falling dappled on the chair. Just lovely!