I never had any interest at all in sewing. At all.
Which, while true, is also a terrible way to start off the very first post on a blog that is ostensibly going to rely heavily on content related to sewing. But, that’s kind of who I am and who I intend to continue to try to be when I write here. I pride myself on my authenticity, of my real voice coming through in my writing, and I am hopeful that those of you who chose to read my musings will hopefully walk away feeling as though you are truly getting to know me.
You know — cards on the table, no bullshit, #nofilter, etc. etc. etc. (full disclosure, my actual Instagram photos will definitely have some sort of filter applied because the lighting in my home is terrible, but I digress…).
I am planning for this space to be somewhere I can connect with people while sharing my thoughts, experiences, successes and failures — in both sewing and life — very likely with references to the lyrics of my favorite songs sprinkled throughout.
All that being said, plans do not often turn out quite the way we’d expect more often than not. If someone had come up to me with a crystal ball in 2019 and said, “In two years, you will start writing a new blog…” I would have believed it easily enough. I mean, I am a writer by trade so it’s not all that far-fetched, though if they had then finished that thought with “…about sewing” there’s a decent chance I would have become deeply suspicious that their “crystal” ball was actually acrylic.
But here I am. Writing about sewing just over a year after I bought my first machine, signed up for an online class, made a dress (that magically fit!) and never looked back. Because sewing has become so much more to me than just stitches in fabric. It has given me purpose, and self-compassion, and confidence, and cracked open a creative channel inside me that had been buried so deep and for so long I had almost lost hope of feeling it again.
It is calming. It is centering.
I find the thrum of my sewing machine meditative and the cadence of my serger comforting. My children have made clear that they find both to be annoying and disruptive when they are trying to watch TV but I have learned to tune them out and remain in my zen because Sewing > Television.
I am learning to love and accept my body in a way I have never been able to before. I have found a community of people who unabashedly support, cheer on, assist and advise their fellow humans with a generosity I have not seen prior to this. I consider myself lucky to be among them.
I have made new friends with real connections that have depth that goes well beyond sewing.
And even more than any of this, I have somehow found myself. I got lost for a while with so much of my identity wrapped up in my other roles as mother/wife/daughter/teacher/student/advocate/patient/checklist maker/errand runner/plate spinner and ball juggler extraordinairre that somehow I became buried underneath the weight of all of those other labels and forgot what it felt like to just be me.
I am sure that I’m not alone in losing myself. I certainly hope I’m not alone in finding myself again.
And I don’t love all that I am discovering. There are more scars now — both literally and figuratively. It gets messy sometimes, thought that’s more often in my house but sometimes in my head too. I still have more questions than answers and and am smart enough to know just how much I still have left to learn. And that’s okay. Because scars show that you’ve got stories to tell, tidy is overrated and nobody likes a know-it-all.
I will say things I shouldn’t. I will possibly cause you to experience second-hand embarrassment. I hope to make you laugh — preferably with me more than at me but I know that I don’t always get to choose. I might accidentally offend someone but I will always purposefully listen and learn if I do.
And I hope you’ll join me here for all of it.