Last time I wrote, I was inspired to start creating seamless garments. Since then, I have done two holiday shows, had a Black Monday sale on Etsy, learned more about pricing retail vs. wholesale, and generated a list of all my new projects that is a mile long (and so exciting to contemplate making). And then the news we'd hoped for came.
My husband got a good job offer ... in Minnesota.
If you don't know what living in Michigan is like right now, think grey and depressed. We'd been in a recession long before the housing crisis. I have watched so many friends lose jobs, or pick up the pieces when they survived a devastating layoff and had to take on their former colleagues' work for no additional pay. Savings starts depleting and the credit card debts still increase. Stress levels are high wherever you go. Because of that stress, my yoga classes are still well-attended. And somehow my scarves are still selling, but only to people for whom cutting back means not going skiing in Banff this year. But M's job has been untenable, and my work is not enough to keep us here.
In a little over eight weeks, our family will uproot some pretty deep roots (we've been here over 12 years), and set some new roots in very cold soil near the Twin Cities. The children will be fine eventually. My husband is better and we haven't even gotten there yet. I am somewhere in between. My yoga career flourished here and I found a new calling working with fiber. I have a large community of support for both fields. I know I can start over in MN and it will come together over time. And best of all, we will finally be near a large contingent of family, both my husband's and mine. (My MIL has already started mentioning art fairs to try and get into this Spring and Summer.)
Anticipation mixed with sadness.
a better job situation for M
renewing old friendships
extended family nearby
meeting the yoga community
finding the local handmade community
bluer skies (literally as well as figuratively)
all my mamas and babies I've been blessed to help through that transition
our shul and Rabbi
Leon & Lulu
my teacher in Honor, MI
When someone states a truth about you so obvious that you balk at its correctness, you know you need to work with your resistance. Long ago, my yoga teacher told me I don't like change. I thought about my life in theatre with several jobs a year. I thought about moving cross country more times than I can count on one hand. I though about my willingness to change colleges, change careers. I knew he was wrong, and I argued in my head with him for weeks after he said it. Then I realized he was right; I don't like change. But having done it all my life, I am good at it. I look at my deadline for packing this house up after M leaves to start work and I know I can do this. I look at starting over at 45 and I know I can do this. I look at my children and see how much help they will need leaving the only place they've ever known, and I know I can do this.
And after I'm done, I can pull that list of Woolynns projects out and start on that.