There has been so much I’ve wanted to say in this space. And, I find that the more words and thoughts that I gather, the farther I get from the chronology of what I want to share. What I mean to say is that there have been a considerable amount of changes in my life, so I will find it hard to explain the ins and outs of how my existence managed to forge away from January to July and how it is that I came to be here, back in Anchorage, Alaska.
As much as I’ve tried to maintain the theme of a strictly knitting blog, I know I’ve etched in a bit of the personal. I’ve shared here and there about my master’s work in public health and the life I was building with my partner S in Anchorage, Alaska and the hope of transitioning back to the Midwest. Knitting for me has always been about self-expression and embracing the creative process, which ultimately means that I must sit and let my mind explore and go where it needs to go. And, inevitably sharing about my knitting journey means sharing a bit about life. As much as I like to keep this space light because, well, so much of life isn’t light. I do want to be honest about my successes as well as my losses.
So, it is with that in mind that I want to publicly share that S and I are no longer married. It is still hard to say it aloud and just as difficult to type it out. The important thing to know is that we are both okay. I believe that we tried as best as we could at the time to part on amicable terms. And, I hope that I will always be able to say that my life and world expanded from our time together–I never regretted a day that we shared together even the hard ones. I feel lucky to be able to say that because I know many people who go through separation and divorce aren’t able to say as much. This of course doesn’t mean that there weren’t challenging and difficult things that led us to this decision. But, I don’t write to gather sympathy; it is more that taking the time to put this in to words helps with processing where I am with it all. And, again, I think it’s necessary to let you all know that I’m still here and haven’t given up on this space yet. Also, I know that some of my dear but distant friends keep up with me through knittinginatree, so I apologize if this news comes as a shock. I’m trying to take my time and slowly reconnect with you all individually but I also felt that it’s time everyone knows about it.
As with every major life event there is always an element of the bittersweet. This is a really delicate time in my life, and as much as possible I’m trying to embrace it with openness, presence and honesty. With all of the transition going on, my knitting gusto took a hiatus this spring. However, the need to create has returned and I feel grateful to be inspired to return to my craft. Also, I feel very fortunate to be in a place and space that feels right, yes; I’m back in Anchorage, but more on that later…
For now I’ll end by sharing a poem that has been following me around the past few months. I think it represents quite a bit of where I am now.
Love After Love by Derek Walcott
The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your mirror,
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,
& say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine, give bread. Give back your heart,
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you.
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your Life.