Sometimes, who we would like to be and who we authentically are don’t jive. Sometimes, these two people can’t even be friends. Last night, my two petty, jealous rivals came to a standoff. It all went down at my sewing machine.
10 years ago, I bought my first sewing machine. I was fresh off of my honeymoon and spending the summer living in Alaska. I traveled to Anchorage with my two dogs to be with my husband who was on a 5 month assignment for work. I was thrilled. Having taken a leave of absence from my job, and found myself with nothing but time. Being a newly wed, I decided to dive into the domestic. I didn’t actually know how to sew. But, being the creative type, I figured that I would catch on quickly. As you may have guessed given the title of this post, I didn’t.
Looking back, I can see that I made many mistakes along the way. I had no interest in taking a sewing class. So, instead I bought books (ha, ha). I also bought my sewing machine based on the way it looked rather then what I needed it to do as a novice. So, my cute, vintage, singer machine and I spent many tense hours together. I can’t remember what I actually created that summer. I think that there were a few acceptable dog pillows that came out of it. I certainly didn’t create the bedding or alter and repurpose clothing the way I had envisioned. Mostly, I just felt defeated and frustrated.
I took a break from sewing for a year or so. But after my daughter was born, I tried again. This time I had visions of designing baby clothes. I would save so much money and Amelia would have one of a kind dresses. I had so many great designs in my head. Again, this didn’t work out so well. So, I took another break.
4 ½ years into my abusive relationship with my Singer (I was the abuser), I was convinced that the machine was the problem. If sewing wasn’t coming naturally for me, it wasn’t my fault. Impulsively, I went out and bought a new machine. With it, I brought home the dreams (and fabric) for a new set of bedding for Amelia. I owed her for 4 years of suffering without handmade dresses. Many late nights, do-overs and tantrums later, I actually finished this project. I felt validated. I tried sewing clothes again. It was a bust. And so it went on like this for the next 4 years.
With 10 years of practice, I figured that a simple project like sewing a child’s busy bag for next weeks airplane venture would be a snap. I had years ago learned my lesson about jumping in to a project too soon. I carefully made a pattern, measured, ironed and set myself up for success. The result: a gigantic flop.
On the bright side of this 10 year struggle, I am now, finally at peace with my lack of skills. For me, sewing represents a lot more then just a skill. I think that women who sew are the epidome of domestica. If you are an accomplished seamstress, give your self a pat on the back. You are perfection. I wanted a little of that for myself. But, spending 20 hours and $40 on an Easter dress that Amelia can NEVER wear (peak-a-boo neckline) does not make me happy. I would much rather spend my time and money shopping with her for the perfect dress. I can’t make it. There are many things on the domestic front that come naturally to me. I am a terrible sewer. I am not a sewer. It just wasn’t meant to be. There is a great freedom in letting go.
Have you ever tried to be good at something that just wasn't good for you? Did you let it go, or are you still struggling?
