As the final days of August wane, I’ve run into several students who sheepishly tell me that they haven’t picked up needles or hook since the start of summer. Life is messy; priorities shift; the heat just swallows the day. As Arthur Ashe said, “Start where you are, use what you have, do what you can.” You don’t need to ask my forgiveness for taking a break.
I also hear the second unspoken part, wondering how to start again.
Nearly everyone has mentioned a big project they want to finish soon—perhaps by Rosh Hashanah (yikes) or before the autumn sheep and wool festival season gears up (there’s a little more time). No matter what, they want to jump back in and immediately make real progress. That’s wonderful. But take a moment to think through this desire first.
In addition to working on a project, these students are also rebuilding a habit. It’s one they had back in April and May, but they’re not who they were in the spring, a mere three months ago. There are many reasons beyond whatever happened this summer. Schedules may have shifted with school year commitments, or new interests were discovered—that mystery series started on vacation isn’t going to read itself. All of that’s ok.
Before my students commit to a goal, I hope they’ll think through whether it’s actually obtainable. Sure, who wouldn’t want a new sweater to wear to Rhinebeck this October? But not everyone can make that sort of time commitment—physically working the stitches, but also mentally working on it too.
The advice I give in this sort of situation is to pause and spend some time noticing where time exists that hands can be busy. Maybe it’s during the weekly Wednesday morning staff meeting. Perhaps it’s while sitting and waiting for a loved one’s soccer game to start (weather permitting). Or when a particular show is watched on TV. It could also be on the morning commute (as long as you’re not driving) or for 15 minutes at lunch every day.
I know a crocheter who only works on her project at our Thursday morning sisterhood knitting and crochet group at shul—that’s it. She’s consistent, and her work moves along steadily because she shows up. It’s not fast, but she knows when she’s going to work on it and she shows up. She’s in a bit of awe about how much more she’s now working each week than when she started and how her technique has improved. Consistency doesn’t have to mean “every Monday and Thursday at 8:15pm.” It could also mean stolen moments on Sunday mornings or when waiting in the car pool pickup line.
Here’s how I’m rebuilding working on a project with a deadline. After I looked at how much of the design still needed work and when I wanted to finish it, I didn’t just jump in and start working on it every waking moment. I paused to work on finding a new timeline. It’s not the one I thought, and that’s ok. Yes, I missed my initial deadline(s), but I haven’t failed. It will get finished.
For the past two weeks, I’ve set a few different times to work on it. I’m tracking how long sections take and how I feel working at different times of day and how well I focus on the project. I’ve learned what’s true about what’s possible for me to work on right now.
This noticing won’t stop here. I constantly pay attention to how I feel in the moment. I take notes (recommended but not required) and review them regularly, looking for patterns. Am I purposely ignoring the project, or am I trying to work longer? Both are valid responses. Already I’ve discovered that while this can be a great evening TV project, it isn’t right for me right now. There’s something else I’d rather work on instead.
By granting myself that permission to work on other projects, I’m more likely to successfully reach my target finish date because I’m not burning out on this one project.
This is a choice, not a failure. It’s a decision made about who I am right now. That’s what rebuilding is: learning by doing.
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