The Means to an End?

I stopped writing because I really thought no one cared about anything I had to say.  I sank into a deep abyss where I did the worst possible thing I could do.  I stopped doing everything I loved.  I stopped reading, knitting, writing,  cooking, hiking, enjoying my life, and generally everything that made me - ME!  I let life beat me down and accepted it and became something akin to whatever animal a sloth and a snail would make if they were to mate.  Not the slowness of them, but the way in which they move through life.  Life must speed past them like a high-speed train - I envision some scene I must have seen on television where the person is moving along sadly and everything else around them is moving 10 times faster.

I became a sad wallowing woman for a time-being and would like to find out how to return ME to me.  My heart has always been on my sleeve and I thought I was an easy-to-read person and that people understood who I was.  It turns out that I am more mopey than fun and tend to get lost in my own misery.  Of course, I knew that.  I just didn't know that I knew.

My life has changed so much since I started writing this 'knitting blog'.  I no longer have the job I had when I started this.  I have moved down the ladder quite drastically over the last eight years.  My kids are now sullen teens with attitude to spare, and there is more yelling/arguments/difficult behavior than I care to share.  Basically I was unhappy in my life back then - and little did I know it was only at the tip of the downhill slope.  Would I have changed anything back then, if I knew what was coming? - probably.  Would I have ended up here anyway? - maybe.  Would I have really changed enough in order to make a permanant difference? - probably not.  But here's the thing... the path I have chosen to accept is not making life better and I want to make life better.  Each and every decision I have made along the way plays some part in that.  And at every crossroads there is a new decision to make and I panic... I have recently made a change that will effect my future and I'm curious now to see if I made the right decision.  I had to choose between two jobs.  One which I hate most of the time, but makes more money and might possibly open more doors for me, and one which I hate only some of the time, have some close attachments to co-workers that I might lose touch with, but I get paid very little and I've had to work a lot of nights, weekends, and holidays and missed out on several family moments that have possibly affected the overall relationship I have with them.  I'm letting go of the latter and I worry already that I've possibly made the wrong choice.

But here is my tiny glimmer of hope -

I will have weekends back with my family and quite possibly pick up the things I love again and have the time to remember what I loved about myself and in finding myself again - also forge new friendships with people who like what I like, and that also love me for who I really am.