I guess it was inevitable. That change would come.
Maybe it's because I have had this headache for 10 months. I have to tell you, constant pain changes your perception of a lot of things. I never knew.
I have tried so many doctors, and so many things. I have been tested, and poked, and examined. I have MRIs, CT scans, Xrays, lab results.
I also still have this headache that apparently is determined to drive me crazy.
It has been slamming for three days, which is why you aren't getting any pictures.
I came home today at noon today, and cried all the way home. No prayer, no argument, no promise will make it go away.
I admit it, I am near the end of my rope.
But for the last couple of months, something has been nibbling at the edges of my consciousness. Random thoughts at first, then more persistent trains of thought.
Discontent. Weariness. The need to move on.
Like an old friend, one you haven't seen in a while, but one whose silhouette you would recognize anywhere.
When I first bought the old house that was the studio, 7 years ago, I had been weaving out of my home, with all my stuff crammed into a room about 12 x 18. This 200 year old gem was the perfect place for me to spread out, and settle in to my weaving. My intent was to have a place where there was no TV, no distraction, a place where I could explore my passion, express myself through it, and find peace and joy and serenity in my retirement. It was actually meant to be in direct contrast to the 30 years of nursing, in a local emergency room, and 20 years in a maximum security prison.
In the beginning it was all that. It was everything I wanted.
But my gene pool ran riot, and my workaholic nature took off.
And now, I have a full time business that takes two of us to stay on top of most days. Sock monkeys, looper looms, kits, loopers, and sock rugs pumped out in production style. Custom orders, students, weaving weekends, keeping up with inventory; stocking the shelves with placemats, blue jean rugs, lodge rugs, fabric rugs, scarves, dish towels, shawls, mug mats, table runners, Sweet Bottoms, and on and on and on. Shipping and accounting and marketing and advertising, web site maintenance, photo shoots, and what............??? no weaving???
And you know what?
It isn't what I wanted, not at all.
And now, this headache has brought me to my knees, and maybe that's where I need to be to figure this out.
The other day, I was rocking on the porch, because I couldn't apply myself to anything, being so distracted by the knife between my eyes. And I asked myself: what would you be doing right now, if you could be doing anything at all???
The answer was easy.
I would be in Maine......I would be spending most of the summer in Maine. In a camper, in a rental, in a second home. Anywhere. But I would be in Maine.
I would have a loom to play on, and I would read, and walk, and sit by the ocean. I would kayak, and eat seafood, and say 'ayuh' a lot.
I would be in Maine. Because it's been a dream of mine for 30 years, or more.
I would NOT be running a business that totally consumes my life.
I remember saying, a few years ago, that I couldn't wait until my 'business' got to the place where I could just weave whatever the BLANK I wanted to weave, put it on my web site, and if someone bought it, FANTASTIC, if not, not a problem.
No custom orders, no classes, no requirements.
But recently, I realized, what is stopping me from doing that right now???
And again, the answer is clear. Nothing is stopping me, nothing at all.
So right now, I am debating all of this.
There are so many options.
I could sell the whole thing, lock, stock, and barrel. Put Crazy as a Loom on the market.
I could downsize, sell most of the looms, and fabric stash, and keep my favorites.
I could just walk away for a while, and let L run it until I figure it out.
I could CUT out custom orders, weaving weekends, and whatever else I wanted to cut.
I can STOP being a production weaver. No more PRODUCTION rugs. Just one of a kind, just rugs I love.
So that, dear friends, is where I am today.......and I must tell you, I don't think this is a passing fancy.
It feels very real, very necessary.
I keep asking myself one really BIG question.
"If you don't do what you want to do, and live how you want to live, when you are SIXTY FIVE years old, just WHEN THE HELL are you going to do it?"