...or Blue/Panic revisited. It just will not go away. If experience is any indicator, it probably won't for several weeks. I'm not sleeping well or long. It's usually in the long, dark, night hours that panic sets in and I just can't turn my brain off. Then, after worrying myself into exhaustion, I finally pass out only to wake again as soon as it gets light. It's light.
We are having a week of last moments. Yesterday evening, my sister came over with her brood, to say Farewell to the boy/man.
(this is only some of them)
So did several other boys/men (that's Owen in the tan shirt):
Eva and I made a mountain of beef stew. Seriously. Way more than we needed. But, "It freezes well." Now I have a mountain of beef stew in my freezer.
After all the hub-bub had died down. I started to feel wistful. Here's what set me off:
No more pile of skateboards in my hallway.
Which is curious, because the skateboards leave marks that irritate me. Not so curious. A few days ago, after a particularly blue/panic night, I came downstairs in the morning to find a pile of dirty dishes in a sink I had emptied of its contents just before going to bed. I cursed the boy/man for undoing my hard work. Then I laughed and then felt blue again. *Sigh* No more unanticipated sinks full of dirty dishes. How does that song go? "I can't live, with or without you."
So here's what I do. Knit. Big surprise. I feel better when my panic is productive. I feel better when it has a point. Knitting helps me relax. Concentrate on things I can do something about. My mind walks a narrow bridge of knitted stitches that spans a chasm of late night depression and panic.
Last night, I picked up the Bucket o'Peace. I'd already done the brim, but had set it aside when I found an error in the intarsia peace symbol pattern on the crown. I solved that problem and made significant progress - about halfway up the crown.
That is so satisfying, and much better than fretting into the wee hours. I plan on wearing this hat and my Knitters Against Bush t-shirt in NYC when I protest the Republican convention. But that's a story for next week.
This week, I'll muddle through the blue/panic. Experience has taught me that I'll live through it. But sometimes, in the dark of night, it seems like the new regime.
Now it's time to go tackle the anticipated sink full of dishes.