I love working with my hands. I love making something from out of nothing but the materials I find. It gives my hands something to do while my brain does its thinking and I don’t get distracted as much as I might if I was just sitting and thinking without doing anything with my hands.
I have mental health problems, which, unless you are new here, you already know. I have clinical depression, social anxiety disorder, as well as post concussion problems (still a year and a half later). I know my depression and anxiety are here to stay, I can work with that. The post concussion is more frustrating though because I can tell where I’m off and no one can tell it’s a problem (as far as I know at least) or when it will go away. So I work with my hands by crocheting anytime and anywhere to try to manage symptoms and help me focus.
As a result I take a small crochet project that doesn’t require a pattern to read, just the same stitch repeated over again and usually a square for a blanket, so I can just automatically crochet it. On Mondays we have a morning worship and meeting. This last week I worked on a scarf. As I was working on it I had a realization. My life is like that scarf. I am the yarn. I started at the beginning and get spun around and twisted and put in a previous loop/stitch to move forward. I can’t see the pattern or where it is going to go. I don’t know what I’m going to look like in the end, but there is a purpose and when my life and the pattern is done there will be a finished product that will be useful. The further along you get the more you can see what it is supposed to be, but it still isn’t done and you can’t rush the process.
So here I go, even though I’m frustrated by the brain problems, weaving in and out to be made into what I am supposed to be. It’s a long process that can’t be rushed, but in the end it is worth it and the item has value.
We all have value. It doesn’t matter what we have been told or come to believe about ourselves based on our experience. We are all valuable. We are humans, we are people, we have a life and a purpose. No one was born for no reason. It’s finding our worth and believing it that is hard.
Handmade requires time, thought, and skill. We were not made thoughtlessly, nor are our lives.