The Re-Education of MoMo: How I Broke Out of Decades of Stagnation and How You Can Too . . .

A recent experience helped me realize how far I've come out of the stagnation that held me back for ages. Maybe my experience can help you, too. Read on for more!

In 1998, Lauryn Hill came out with her seminal debut album, The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill. Autobiographical, poignant, and entirely self-penned, Ms. Hill took stock of her life, and intimately discussed the touchpoints of growth and reflection she had encountered thus far.

I feel, in many ways, these past 12 months have been much the same for me. I’ve discussed some of this in the episode Metamorphosis, and others.

I don’t know if it’s my neurodivergent brain, but I’ve rarely stuck with anything, other than my near 43-year walk with Christ, and my 36-year marriage.

If something wasn’t quick, easy, or guaranteed to yield the desired result, I’d quickly back away. My neurodivergent brain was certainly a curious one, but curiosity without tolerance is exhausting. And for a long time, I didn’t have the tolerance.

With the discovery of the supplement regimen that has calmed my brain and transformed my outlook, I’ve stuck with this routine for 146 days now, nearly five months, and it only continues to get better.

I’ve noticed a number of growth markers I want to share with you. You will surely have your own that are unique to you. I encourage you to track them. I have mentioned a number of tracking systems in our episodes here (two linked below), and with this episode, I’m including a tracker of sorts for premium subscribers.

When I first learned to knit, I refused to “frog” (knitting slang for “rip it, rip it”). However, with piles of UFOs (knitter code for “unfinished objects”), I declared “Enough!” Not out of a quest for perfectionism, but out of frustrated curiosity. I needed to understand what I was doing wrong if I ever wanted to finish anything. Frogging was my education. It was messy, but it was honest.

Once I finally had enough skill to knit in peace, I stayed in that advanced‑beginner lane for a long, long time. Not because I lacked ability anymore; but because I just wanted knitting to be a refuge. Predictable. Calming. Something I could use to finish and gift without drama.

I languished in Functional Avoidance-land for many years. Because I was a process versus project knitter, I was getting what I needed, in essence, so the advanced techniques I saw all the “cool kids” reaching for, I just dismissed. I told myself, “I don’t need that level of challenge, so just forget it.”

I chose big yarn and big needles because tiny needles and fine yarn took longer for me to reach the finish line for gifts. They took attention and patience; the very opposite of the “let me blow this pop stand and move on to the next thing” energy I was manifesting.

For years, anything that required that kind of investment of time and energy went straight into the “maybe someday” pile. Not because I couldn’t do it, but because I didn’t have the tolerance to stay with it.

A therapist once told me I couldn’t possibly have ADHD because I didn’t overturn the puzzle she gave me during the testing process. I remember saying, “I didn’t know that was an option!” That line also described my whole creative life to a T.

A few recent projects have had me tearing my hair out, along with the yarn frogging. But, as I said in the episode, “When the Cord Snaps,” the lessons learned apply to far more than improving my knitting technique.

Michelangelo once said that he could “see” the statue encased inside the marble. It was just his job to release it. With this latest project, I had started a number of items with this particular yarn, and none of them passed muster with me. So the yarn stayed in storage, only to come out when I thought I had found the pattern. Along came an occasion when I needed to get the color scheme exactly right, and I remembered this yarn. So I dug it out, and again, each attempt at starting didn’t meet my “statue in the marble” vision. I knew in my heart of hearts what I needed to do to make it conform, but it was going to mean those tiny needles, fine yarn, slippery metal needles, and some techniques I really did not want to try. But because the recipient was someone I consider to be family, I buckled down and did the thing.

The first attempt was a spectacular fail. One that the old me would have used to bail on the whole thing. However, with this new supplement regimen fueling a new state of mind, with emotional regulation front and center, and a bit more frustration tolerance (read: “take that, therapist lady, I’m not throwing it across the room!”), I tackled it again . . . and it came out exactly as I envisioned. Michelangelo was exactly right. The project lives within the medium, where the artistic eye can see it.

That’s the difference regulation makes. It didn’t produce fearlessness, but rather the capacity to hold discomfort long enough for the curiosity to do its work.

What I experienced wasn’t just a knitting win. It was a nervous system win. A tolerance win. A “this girl ain’t that girl anymore” win.

Where in your life are you still operating like the old me: choosing the quick, the easy, the familiar? Not because you lack curiosity, but because you haven’t had the tolerance? Can you envision what might shift if you let yourself stay one breath longer to capture the statue within the marble? Chime in below!

Mentioned in this episode: