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3 days ago
6
A few summers ago I got caught up in the frenzied emptying of dusty cardboard boxes, folding my undies in a new fancy way and asking a forgotten melon baller “do you bring me joy?” Having control over something, anything, when your life is one tumbling hyperfixation adventure after another was very seductive.
I don’t have many regrets in life but I do regret letting go of several tubs of embroidery supplies. My yearning for them rivals any Sapphic love story, but I intend to create a happier ending. Less bury your gays, more cute wall adornments.
I was neck deep in a cross stitch phase 15 years ago, eternally skulking around garage sales and Lincraft looking for my next hit. The last project I got into was making embroidered bookmarks with fabric backing. A sweet pair of superb fairy wrens stitched into that stiff gridded fabric sits in the spare room at my mum’s house – just the thought of it makes me break out in goose bumps. She’d deemed it too nice to actually use, which was equally infuriating and sweet.
Since last year I’ve been back on the gear and nobody is more shocked than me. After some hectic tendinitis in my right arm and a lot of fine motor function going haywire, I thought I could set the potential stitched birds free.
Then, during a recent bookstore visit, I spied a wee ladybug kit that came with a wooden hoop and everything I’d need. It was no bigger than the palm of my hand – simple, achievable, something I could see coming together slowly.
We called our youngest child “baby ladybug” when they were cooking away in the womb, so I had to have it. Next came a little Mario driving his car for my big kid, and a few Kris Kringles received some personalised offerings too.
After finishing the latest kit I’d ordered online, I was bereft. My hands needed something to make! I went into the shed: holder of hopes and dreams in erratically labelled storage tubs, in search of remaining craft supplies. I found about six half-finished soft toys, a stunning collection of origami paper and all the tools I could ever need for flower arranging.
Sticking only to what could fit in a small storage cube, I lugged a curated collection of cross stitch projects inside. I’m now having a ball stitching a massive kookaburra from a kit I bought eight years ago at a garage sale. Our first child was born soon after and focus was diverted from whimsical crafts to learning how to be a parent.
These projects take me away from the handheld equivalent of pokies: the luminescent games on my phone. Cake Match has taken many hours I’ll never get back.
Although my pupils dilate with pleasure every time I beat my own high score, these electronic pastimes remove me from the present and wreak havoc on my posture. The search for dopamine is eternal and getting the repetitive stitches just right, in pleasing colour combinations is the biggest rush in my life right now. It feels like doing a wheelie down a cliff, blindfolded. By giving finished projects away, that joy can be paid forward to those I love.
Marie Kondo was wrong.
The minimalists were wrong. The thing that stopped bringing me joy has now been resurrected and I couldn’t be happier. If anyone finds a large embroidery hoop with the words “DIG ME!” stitched on, and room for lots of veggies yet to be stitched, please return it. I’d love to finish it for my kitchen.
