So, I graduated from college and moved back in with my parents. I know that all the books tell you to do that for as short a time as humanly possible. But my parents are gracious people and I'm good at rolling with the punches, so it works. Still, I'm counting down the months until I pay off my loans and move out.
Wait, did I just say that my parents are gracious people? I must have meant monsters who eat people named Grace. Every three months living here changes into something like living in a dungeon. And I know that it has nothing to do with me. Because I'm angelic.
Seriously, living with other people opens your eyes to how weird the rest of the world is and how selfish you can be.
For example, I think it's so strange that other people don't have seven projects started at the same time. It was Winston Churchill's philosophy that doing something different is as good as resting. And I agree. If I can change from crafting to writing to cooking to cleaning back to crafting to my other craft, it's very productive for me. But people in my family have thrown around the words, "slob" and "pig" and things. They seem to think that if I'm not currently physically working on something, I shouldn't have it out. And they're even less less supportive of my 10 other projects. I guess they don't see the mental work and joy that happens while I leave my sewing out. I see it as decoration; they see it as mess.
It's hard to balance my need to be creative and my family's need for a weird sort of order.
I'm learning to put away projects that are not essential, and my family is learning to give me some space. And it's not fun. But it's probably healthy.
This is the kind of adjustment that I have to make all the time because I'm living with other people. And, like I mentioned, every three months it gets especially hard. I hope that I'm growing because of it. Or that the next few months go really quickly.
No comments:
Post a Comment