Summer has gone on and on here in Seattle (and the SMOKE) but it’s slowly getting better. A few crisp mornings have felt really good and helped ease me into a different mindset. Unpacking a lot of feelings (as one does) about my habits toward work, and also feeling gratitude for the path I’ve taken and the ways in which I’ve evolved over the years. I had a camera roll moment the other day — you know, when you fall backwards in time and it all replays to you in a new and different sense?
I lost my favorite beanie two Christmases ago. We were staying with family in a big cabin near Chelan and I arrived with it and departed without it. I’ve toiled about it for two years, maybe ridiculously so. I got that beanie when Mike and I first arrived in Seattle years ago. We were getting ready to meet my aunt, uncle and cousins at Kalaloch for our first camping trip (together, ever, and first in WA). It was mid-summer, and we Chicagoans figured we’d be fine in whatever tee and shorts we packed. We were WRONG. As we made our way around the peninsula we were frigid. And wet. And a little panicked. We pulled off in a very very remote Goodwill parking lot and ventured forth to get some warmer gear that we’d probably never use again. I pulled the hat off the rack, gave it a sniff (like one does at Goodwill), and bought it for two or three dollars. It didn’t leave my head (sleeping in a beanie will always feel like camping to me) for four days. After that we were bonded.
The earliest photo of my beloved hat.
Flash forward to the two Christmases ago, I was bulging pregnant with my second and devastated at my loss. Every now and then I go back to the many many many photos I have of myself wearing that hat and study its details trying to compare it to the zillions of other gray wool beanies I’ve seen online. Nothing has been just right, even though I’ve made several 85% right purchases.
I fell into one such hole the other night and came across some photos from 2016. I was miserable. I mean, my face was smiling but my eyes told a different story. I felt so lost during that stage of my life. I was working a job that demanded an incredible amount of my energy, and had some very toxic leadership situations. I was also in a life stage where I was expecting my job to save me. I thought my career would make me happy, or that it should. I felt like I was truly failing because I wasn’t thriving and didn’t see a way out. I googled “how to leave retail” in desperate fits feeling utterly deflated that I hadn’t figured it out.
I could go on about the transformation that happened over the next few years, and about how I left that job and started my own business, but that’s another story for another day. It’s relevant to now because I’ve been making shifts and changes in my own business ever since it started. However, sometimes I get stuck in ruts where I believe that the sum of my suffering is the sum of my tenacity, and that seeing through difficult situations is virtuous, even when those difficult situations are probably toxic and detrimental to my wellbeing. I’m telling myself as much as I’m telling you: the suffering doesn’t do shit. No one is rewarding any suffering on my part. As a matter of fact, that kind of suffering out of dedication’s sake is the biggest drain on my productivity and inner creative genius that is desperate to make bold choices and create from passion.
In a rare moment of total clarity the other night as the lead-heavy blanket of anxiety and doubt was starting to settle in for a long winter’s nap I suddenly zoomed 10,000 feet above myself and realized that the suffering I was enduring was optional. And I decided to end the source of it and stop working on that project. Along with any freedom from a decision to stop something professionally as a freelancer comes the equal and opposite panic of the well of income drying up. But then I remember something my grandpa told me years ago as I was starting out. He had his own business for many years and he said, “Once I started I always had work.” And it’s the truth. The work comes, and it always has. Whatever superstition you might be telling yourself about your income situation (and I’m saying this to myself as much as to you"): freaking cut it out. Look at how far you’ve come, the beautiful things you’ve created, the wonderful people you’ve met. If you think the well is running dry look around at all the beautiful proof that you’re being an utter fool and get on with the good work.
One thing I will not let go of: replacing my hat.
I created these photos for Laude the Label on a beautiful October afternoon as I was basking in all of these thoughts. Laude creates beautifully made pieces that transcend trend and give back to the earth and the people who make the garments. Really good for existential pondering, too. :)
