Sometimes I feel like life is nothing but a neatly rolled ball of yarn. Some people can keep their ball wound neat and tight. Others, yarn balls, can be unwound filled with knots, loops, and bits of lint. While others who find their yarn ball unwound and all over can rewind it up into a neat ball again or at least something that resembles a yarn ball.
I can keep mine rolled up most of the time, maybe not quite as neat as when it was brand new, but rolled up. My ball gets unwound from time to time, and the yarn is tangled all around. I can always rewind it up into a reasonably decent-shaped yarn ball. I have been unable to untangle the long string of unwound yarn for the past several months. As I sit having my morning coffee, I look around at my house, the disorder that I struggle to regain control over—feeling as if I can’t roll my ball back together even if it is uneven and wound all wrong. The long twine has knots, loops, other more petite yarn balls that feel so filled with knots I don’t think I can ever untangle them.
Each day I make a conscious effort to regain control of what feels like complete chaos. I struggle each day to make sense of the mess that surrounds me. I know what you are thinking; ask for help—such a simple solution to a simple problem. I do not feel that this is a simple problem; I see a very complex issue that seems impossible to solve. The process of regaining control is not simple. The perfect mask is hard to make, and I have perfected it over the years. I know that I have worn the ideal cover for too long—so much of a mask that I do not even recognize myself when I look in the mirror. I know that those closest to me can see through to what I am hiding behind. I don’t want the questions, “what is wrong?” and the “are you ok?”. I do not know how to answer those questions. I don’t want to answer those questions.
I have found my way through the chaos before, and I know that I will find it again.