Finding my own style

All my life I have been the sort of person who "makes things".
I am definitely no artist, but I do enjoy fiddling about with fabric and yarn and playing with colours and shapes. In the past, there was always a bag with some project or other beside the sofa, ready to pick up instead of a book or in place of turning on the TV.

When R died, that desire to create seemed to die with him.

I decided very early on that I would cut up all his plaid shirts and turn them into comfort quilts and cushions for myself, friends and family. I even got as far as dissecting a couple of really tatty shirts, cutting off and saving the buttons and deciding which parts were reusable.

Then I stalled.

I couldn't see in my head what I was going to do with them. The images just weren't there. And even though I would have still had the fabric, I was happier knowing that the shirts were safe in his wardrobe for me to see at any time, rather than cut up in a box.

And so that side of me was placed on hold while I concentrated on working, keeping the place going or simply breathing, depending on what sort of day it was.

But lately I find I am starting to have ideas floating around my head once again, and my hands are itching to do something that doesn't involve typing or getting dirt under my fingernails.

Some friends are due to have a baby soon, so I thought I would dust off the sewing machine and make a little cot quilt.


I have always been very much a traditional 'squares and triangles' sort of quilter, but I was surprised to see this one turn out a lot brighter, yet simpler than normal and with lots of blank space that called out for meandering quilting, rather than my usual straight lines. (And yes, it has finally occurred to me that a quilt with large white spaces probably isn't ideal for a small child, so I may have to go back to the drawing board for the baby!)

I've noticed this change of style and direction in other aspects of my life as well.
Take clothes, for example.

Various friends and my no. 1 niece have 'taken me in hand' lately. They have ignored my increasingly feeble protests and dragged me shopping for clothes. Partly because the weight that fell off when R died seems to have stayed off and I had very little that fitted me any more, and partly because my wardrobe was well overdue for an overhaul in any case.

And now, much to my surprise, I find myself with several skirts in my wardrobe, and a pair of shoes with heels, of all things. Just about everything we bought was feminine, rather than practical, which is a huge departure for me. I spent a couple of days wafting around the house, wondering who this girlie person was I occasionally caught sight of in the mirror. I also have to remind myself to wash my hands when I come inside from the garden, rather than wiping the mud off on my already-grubby jeans!

It seems to be happening to my decorating style as well.

Together, R and I tended towards the slightly-cluttered, comfortable country style of décor. Earth colours, natural textures and lots of wood. That sort of thing.

Now my extension is slowly coming to fruition, thanks to the work of my wonderful BIL. It has nearly reached the decorating stage (at least upstairs) and I find I am leaning totally towards sleek, clean, uncluttered lines, fresh Spring colours and bold big-pattern fabrics for the curtains. None of which I can imagine having if R were still here. When the furniture goes in, I plan to keep it as minimal as possible as I seem to need space and air much more than the cocooning comfort of the past.

When I look at these changes, I wonder if that was how I always was. Did our previous choices simply reflect the fact that everything was a compromise between the wants of two people, and was therefore never entirely satisfactory to either of us? Does this mean that now I can be entirely selfish and have exactly what I have always wanted? Or have I mentally drawn a line under the past and started moving in a different direction? Or perhaps the shock of R's death has awoken a part of me that I didn't know was there? I really don't know.

Of course, given the choice, I would turn the clock back in an instant. But I can't do that, and so it is interesting to watch myself in a detached sort of way and see the awakening of a new person. I wonder if the new one will be someone that the old person would still like when the metamorphosis is complete.