i will create

I learned to embroider this past October and started my first project the same week I broke up with my girlfriend. We'd been dating for a month when I found out on Halloween night that she'd shared my dark secrets with her friends—I cried, felt that too-familiar numbness, and asked one of her friends to drive me home. I'd had two white claws, and all I knew was I needed to get out of there. Needless to say, it was the worst Halloween I'd ever had.

I got home at 2 am and stared at the jean jacket I'd picked for my first time embroidering—one I'd had for years, with tiny yellow and blue paint streaks on the front from my theatre days. I'd drawn a giant cherry tree on the back of it, inspired by Pinterest art I'd seen.

I'd told my girlfriend about my new hobby and project. I shoved the thoughts of her away and grabbed the needle and thread kit I'd bought on a whim from DMC.

In the in-between of sober and drunk, tears still stuck in my throat, I began to stitch.

The fabric was soft, easy to work with. I listened to Girl in Red and imagined telling my girlfriend to fuck herself every time I tied a new knot. A tree began to form—one with long roots and a thick trunk and branches that reached the clouds. I didn't fall asleep until sunrise, with my jacket beside me instead of my lover. I had it before me the next day when I called her and let her go.

It took about a month before I realized I wasn't thinking about her anymore. I finished the jean jacket, poured myself into this new and fascinating art I could create out of nothing but a scrap of cloth and some thread. The jacket's tree definitely isn't perfect: the denim is puckered in spots because I didn't start using a hoop until halfway through the process, I used five different browns for the trunk and branches that aren't blended well at all, and I certainly could have added more flowers--but it's mine. It's proof that I could create something incredible from an art form I had no experience with in a time where I didn't want to exist. So I wear it with pride, and when I get compliments, my soul glows.

December came, and I embroidered six different pieces as Christmas presents for my family: two fish, a car, three cats beneath pink letters that spelled "mom," the Colorado state flowers, and a sailboat.

This form of art has captivated me the way no other passion has. I love to dance and sing and draw and paint—but embroidery is the passion that I work at every day; scour Pinterest and youtube for inspiration and how-tos. Only writing competes with my desire to embroider.

Embroidery is more than a hobby, skill, or passion. It's an act of creation that I engaged in during a dark time in my life, and it reminded me that no matter what happens in this life, I can still choose to create. I look back on the small hoops holding threaded images of things my family loves. I see the girl I was when I created it—the sorrow, the stress, the frustration when I couldn't figure out how to make a stupid French knot—but I see happiness, too. Hope that as long as I have the will to create, I'll be okay. Everything will be okay.

The hours I give myself to do nothing but create allow me to rest, unplug from the stress and priorities of society, and focus on my craft. When I return to the "real world," I come bearing gifts that not everyone will understand: the ability to practice self-care and meditate on the beauty of creation.

Whenever I debate over shades of blue for the sky or prick my finger on a needle, I'm reminded that I am alive. I exist, and I give back to myself and the world by creating art. it's a feeling that alcohol can't imitate—the sense of peace that comes over me when it's just me and a new, plain section of fabric, a new canvas. The high I experience when I finish a project and show it to my family—it's better than any drug I've taken. I'm grateful to my ex, who broke my heart when I didn't know who I was, and the fact that my embroidery supplies had arrived a few days before—I believe the universe has a sense of humor.

Embroidery has allowed me to accept who I am and document my feelings through art. whether it's a cherry tree on the back of an old jean jacket or a family of owls framed on my bedroom wall, I look at the art I've created and see the endless possibilities I can still create. I feel the freedom of an artist, unconstrained by time or kingdoms or society's shifting rules. I love to create, and I create love. I hope reading this reminded you of what you love and inspired you to give love in return.

-v. summers