In Spite Of

We become the adults we are either as a result of our childhoods or IN SPITE OF our childhoods.  I'm choice B, I suppose.  


So as I spend all this time hand stitching away, I have lots of time to ponder life in general.  Why the hell am I creating all this work for myself?  I could have just bought these baptism garments.  I could have made them, but used store-bought trim.  Why do I insists on personalizing every aspect of this project and adding more work to my already full plate?


EUREKA!!  I suddenly understand so much more about myself.  I've realized only yesterday that, again, it's in spite of my childhood.  All my time as a kid was spent competing with my mother for my father's attention.  I was never as good at anything as she was (I've got an earlier blog referencing this topic).  Sewing was one of those things.  "I'd just never even hope to be as good as she was" is what I learned to believe from my father's actions and words to me.  Well, I suppose even in her death that I'm out to prove myself just to spite my father by trying to do things better than she did.  I'm not sure if my mother made my christening dress (was I ever christened?).  Well, snap.  I've got TWO with hand beaded trim, 2 bibs, and 2 bible covers.  


So do I have my dad's attention and respect now?  Ha,  doesn't that sound crazy?  dark?  twisted?  immature?  It does to me, but it's what makes me tick and I am embracing it in this moment.  For some strange reason, I feel like Neo in The Matrix at the end when he whoops that Agent Smith's ass and flexes a "digital wave" through the matrix.  Yep, that's me at the sewing machine.  *snicker* *sneeze(nerd!)*


What a weird path my mind has taken.  Still trying to become a more well-adjusted adult I suppose.