Actually, I've been pulling threads for a while now; doing untangling of my own. Maybe, to use the imagery of late, what I'm doing now is weaving something from the pulled threads.
Weaving something atypically open-ended, on instinct, without knowing the pattern and then being overjoyed to find the work just right, just what was needed, just what was wanted.
|learning new crochet stitches, no pattern in mind (makes a good dollhouse rug :)
|more trying: this one ended up as a doll blanket
Me: "Well, you really only have two choices: not to fail, or be o.k. with failing."
Self: "It's impossible to do the first, and I am not o.k. with the second. (Cue Westley "Then we are at an impasse".)
Me: "Maybe there's no such thing as failing."
Self: "That's just another way of saying it's o.k. to fail."
As bleak as that seemed, it was a start. It led to the understanding that what I was really searching for was a way to not fail. A way I actually trusted.
And one day out of a tumble of words, a knot of thoughts, something new emerged and took root. It took a way of thinking about things that's not instinctual to me and made it of value because it's the antidote to failing. I'm tempted to make it into a tattoo, but for now, I'm working on a design to embroider.
Play is the opposite of failure. And because it's a statement of my own, in my own voice, it's been so much more effective at cancelling out that deep doubting voice than anything reactionary; any argument that I've tried in the past. Just my own voice, firm and steady, saying "play is the opposite of failure" and finding joy in it, because in the end, all the good stuff, the stuff that had no acceptable value but now does, the stuff I remember passionately and fondly, is play.