okay. this particular place at my dinner party is called w.i.t.w. which stands for woman’s inhumanity to woman. not a pretty thing from any seat at the table. my daughter and i fell victims to two particularly nasty emotional thugs a month or so ago.
such women seem to feast on the weakened and the vulnerable. can anyone explain that to me, please?
so much viciousness, so much meanness. well, i really don’t want to recount – shoot, i don’t even want to remember. words are beginning to surface, but not enough yet. am still stitching my way through to situating the tenacious event since i know understanding and clarity is and will forever remain impossible.
yesterday acey commented on the BULLion stitches. (thanks, acey.)
you know, there is something metaphorically therapeutic about wrapping the thread around and around and around the needle, then pulling and sometimes even yanking it so all lie down orderly, perhaps even prettily next to each other. it’s in the tension, i think. wrap the thread too tightly around the needle, and experience stuck: can’t pull the needle through. get nowhere. don’t guide/manage, and threads quickly escape then poof – they’re gone – requiring one to start all over.
tension. seems key to understand that at every moment.