If you've been reading along as I've recounted the drama (ha!) of the Cotton Robin, you know that I was wonderfully excited to be able to participate. It's always fun to jump in the deep end of the pool (holding your nose, of course), and that's sort of how I began the Cotton Robin: last minute, hoping I didn't slip up, and just a little anxious.
Since I was so last minute, I didn't have time to think. Good. It meant jumping in no matter how cold the water. Two colors left on the work table volunteered their services and we were in business. This above was my block. Yay! I really liked it--improvisational, bold, something of a watery color in there. Just fun. Anyone could do anything. I even tossed in the tiny bit of left over fabric.
Then I had the chance to look at the Cotton Robin blogpost on which every one of the blocks were posted. They were all so.... quilty! I wanted to cry. I desperately wanted to get my little blue block out of there! Why did I ever consider this? I know I'm too different to do these things. Then I did cry. Quite a bit, actually. But remember, I cry a lot. Sometimes I cry because I cried. Well, often. So you get it now? The internal drama of bipolar disorder can be overwhelming...and managed. Thank goodness I had remembered to take my medicine.
When I calmed myself down, I considered my options: 1. write Julie and beg her to undo the magic of managing the robin so people would forget about me; 2. write everyone and try to explain my block, or what I was thinking, or how I'm different. And I considered the consequences: #1 was not fair to Julie. She had put in great time and effort. Plus, I'd made my own choices. #2 seemed confusing, long-winded and overly dramatic, of which I'd had enough. I chose #3 which was to let go of the feelings of inadequency and see what transpired. There was the possiblilty (albeit slim) that it could be interesting and fun.
I just went on with my little life of living and teaching and retiring. Beautiful little quilt tops came, and I did my best to interpret and add to the story, and then the little quilts left. Finally my own little block, which had grown into a beautiful little quilt, returned home.
Oh my! I cannot imagine that it could be better. It's perfect. And look at the quilting. Perfect. It's all just perfect. Tears? No, just happiness. Although I didn't complete the quilt or work past the beginning block, I'm counting it as a finish. It is, after all, finished!