The dilapidated house on the corner

I’ve lived in this area all my life, and I’ve lived in this house with my family for two years now, so a fair amount of time, where you’d think I’d be familiar with everything.

Just on the corner of a turning I take frequently, there were, until recently, high fence panels, covered with ivy, winding and oddly romantic with its wildness. Every time I look that turning, or came up the other direction towards it, it would make me smile, as it looked so welcoming in an odd way. I love the wilds of nature, and ivy is something that fascinates me in how it will grow entirely without prompting, support or the foods that other plants demand. So these fence panels made me smile.

Then one day a few weeks ago I was coming up towards the ivy panels, when I suddenly saw they were gone. Ripped down completely on one side. The front panels, onto the main road, remained, but the side was gone. And for the first time I could see what was behind the panels.

A little old house stood there, dilapidated, crumbling but still upright, with a wonky chimney, chipped tiles, a broken window. The grounds around it have been prepared for demolition and then construction, with various stakes in the ground and different coloured tapes  between them. The ground was uneven and had the appearance of almost being churned, then thrown in different directions.

But the house! I fell in love with the house even more than the ivy panels. It was charming, beautiful in its ugliness, welcoming in its brokenness, a house full of memories and history that can almost be read on its collapsing walls. And I thought…. “I wish someone had torn down those panels sooner”.

Later on it came to me how much this likened to finally letting people in to see who you really are, to show them your ugliness, your vulnerability,  the failings in your health. People who only see your ivy covered panels only see your romantic perfection. Those who see your wonky chimney and broken tiles see you. They see who you are, the real you, and they might love you all the more for it.

Admitting to people how ill you really are is so painful and terrifying. But be proud of your house. Show it to people, and let them absorb your reality. You are a beautiful dilapidated house.

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Keep crafting on

Finding a way to keep crafting through the dark moments and really broken days is vital to my mental health. I’m one of these arty types who can’t actually draw even when healthy, so inside I’m a frustrated artist who desperately needs an outlet. 

Today I’m having a bad flare up, with a lot of pain, spasms, and tremors BUT I need to keep crocheting or I will be grumpy as hell on top of all of that. 

I’m finishing off a blanket in Stylecraft Special DK made out of granny squares and stripes that I’ve used a selection of happy colours in. I get a bit of a seaside feel from the completed blanket, with different shades of sea, pebbles and with grass and seaweed scrambled in between. 

See – frustrated artist! 

It’s not long until I can see the final project and I’m excited. The excitement is over ruling the symptoms briefly, andt to me, that’s the magic of craft. 

Crafting a crafting space

When we last had to move, the only property we could find locally that had a garage for my wheelchair had three bedrooms. And so I am lucky enough to have a craft room. 
Until the last few months I confess it has been used mainly for craft storage and for the blocking of items. I owe my craft room an apology here because it is a wonderful room and shouldn’t have been neglected. 

Now however I have an armchair (I need a foot rest, am thinking either a storage cushion or one of those big circular poofs), the room is more organized than it was, I have a kettle and hot drink making area. In the process of organizing the room I have realised I’ve been stocking up preparing for a world washi tape shortage, but we’ll skip that point. 

My crafting space is now a crafting space. It is not just a room to shut the door on. It is cosy, it is comfy. It is safe. And when you feel cosy, comfy and safe, you are more likely to create beautiful things. Yes I am a hippie at heart, and I feel it is important to have a little safe area where your creativity can explode. Regardless of whether this is a room, a cushion, your side of the sofa, a place you go in your mind when you are crafting or the bag you carry your craft in, finding that crafting space – that is magical.