Those Little Mindful Moments That Made Me, Me

Time and time again I have come back to my craft room. It's my comfort place. My little slice of serenity, where I can get lost in the 100s and 1000s of stitches that soon create a piece of artwork, a garment, a scarf; you name it, I've most likely created it at some point. It's my happy place. A time just for myself, where I can forget about all my worries. Without it, I wouldn't be where I am today.

Sewing and crafting is something I have loved doing since I was a little girl; and I really owe it all to one person, for introducing crafts to me, all those years ago. My mum.

It began one afternoon. I was laying on the couch watching yet another cheesy sitcom. This was the 5th one I had almost finished in the space of 2 months. This is what my days consisted of, that year in 2009, when I was struck down by glandular fever, which quickly escalated to Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. Before I could say "sewing machine", my mum was bathing me, feeding me and dressing me, because I was so sick, I could barely even lift my head long enough to watch a 20 minute episode all the way through. I was missing. Missing out on school, missing out on playing with my sisters, missing out on life; while this mysterious illness ran through my veins, I had nothing, I was nothing. However, my mum was determined to change this. And for that, I am forever grateful.

So, as I lay on that green couch with the gold European-style cushions, watching Jan Brady complain about everything being about "Marsha, Marsha, Marsh", watching the time tick by, minute by minute.

Tick. Tick Tick.

Mum came in and she was holding a cardboard box with a colourful bear on the front. As she opened up the box and pulled out the colourful bits of felt, stuffing, thread and a plastic needle, to reveal a "build-a-bear" kit, it was the first time in months where I had forgotten that I was at home. It was the first time I had forgotten that I was home in the middle of the day when I should have be a school, running, playing and learning. It was the first time in forever, where time stopped and all I was focussed on was the stitch and the stitch after that. It was the first time I had forgotten I was sick and for the first time in a while, I felt purpose.

From then on, it became my new "couch-time" activity. Each time I had finished a project/box, mum would bring me home a new one to tackle. So by the time I had mastered hand sewing, everyone in the house had multiple knick-knacks, hand-made by me. When I got bored of hand sewing and when my stamina started to increase and I wasn't so unwell, mum introduced me to knitting. Before she knew it, I was teaching her different stitches, and then I was teaching her crochet.

I went from bored, sad and fatigued, to my mind being occupied only by thinking about what my next project will be and what I can create next. It gave me purpose and it gave me strength.

While my sewing and crafting days, started all those years ago with that little "build-a-bear" box from mum, it is something I have kept with me; and something I will continue with keep with me as a travel through my life journey.

It has given me so much.

It has given me purpose when I didn't have any; a way to fill the time and feel accomplished, when I couldn't do much else. It has given me a way to connect with my sisters, when I create garments for them. It has given me my own costumes and 1950s style outfits for my roller-skating waitressing job at a diner. It has given me with a skill to help others, by allowing me to sew face masks in a pandemic for those who didn't have access to them. It has given me an income when I couldn't work a traditional job.

But, most importantly it has given me so much joy and continues to be a constant in my life. The mindfulness sewing and crafting brings to my life has been a saving grace and I can truly say I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for those moments of being absorbed fully in an activity. Those moments where I can just be.

Those little mindful moments that made me, me.