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I need to be me.

My brain is like scrambled egg. Menopausal, ADHD? Autistic?  Wading through the mush. Sick of being pushed around, being nice, being good at being helpful. Really good at being helpful.

Helping other people. Not helping myself.

What do I want?
I think I have been asking this question for nearly 40 years. 

Art/life balance, also probably 30 years. 

Weighed down with self-doubt , why don’t I know anything?
Do I really have nothing to offer the world?

What I do know.

Colour and texture are my friends.

I love materials, threads, drawing as communication, text, when thought bubbles appear.

Wool. Felt, spinning, knitting, crochet, weaving. 

Bowl shapes, hat shapes, rectangles – scarves and wraps…

Sometimes I think I want to do one thing, and I end up doing something else. Does it matter? Do I try to do everything? Can that really be a business plan? 

I need to work within my capabilities. I’m fed up with living with anxiety, trying to be good enough. Commissions are stressful. I need to let my creativity bubble up. Do little collections of things and let them be. Make make make. Will it be okay? Let’s see.

Life is better with dog walks, nature, gnarly trees, soft earth, fungi.

Self compassion. Self kindness. Self champion. 

Friendship. Connection. Workshops. Sharing skills and stories.

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