Perfectly Imperfect

It had been years since I’d made time for crafting. I dreaded mending clothes and my hot glue gun had been firmly tucked away, collecting dust somewhere in the back of the closet. Between working, freelancing, and friends, I had rarely made the time for something that had been the center of my world for so many years… But then the world stopped.

It was early March and none of us quite knew what to do. Grocery shopping became more of a scavenger hunt, picking through nearly empty shelves and scraping together enough to get through the next week or two, until this whole thing “blew over”. Yet deep within the chaos and uncertainty of 2020, buried somewhere beyond the news, and behind the towers of carefully collected TP, were small pockets of self-discovery. Hidden parts of former selves just waiting to be revealed. This is the story of what I found.

There were no masks available.

It had been a little over a month since I had lost my job. I'd been sitting at home, reading, watching 80s action movies with my husband, baking too many cookies, and doodling here and there. But as time went on the world beyond our front door began to creep in, and we would have to go back into it, only we couldn’t find masks, no one could.

It was out of pure necessity that I went into the closet, picked out a few old tee shirts, a pair of jeans, and a thrifted dress that had never fit quite right. I untangled the cord to an old iron, left behind by a roommate years ago. Finally, I dragged my sewing machine from the back of my closet, dusted off the yellowing plastic, and found a pair of pink Fiskars still tucked away in the case. Both had been a present for my sixteenth birthday, the handle of the scissors had matched my hair perfectly, and I still remembered writing my now faded name down the side of the blade.

I carefully measured out a pattern I had found on the internet, sliced through the crisp paper, sheared through the brightly patterned fabric, and listened to the long-forgotten humming of an old friend. I had put these tools away so long ago, forgotten how big a part of my life they had been. Yet sitting here, sewing masks to keep my family safe in a global pandemic, I rediscovered the joy of making something with my hands.

At first, I had to get creative, using what supplies I could find; kids tights instead of elastic, any cotton fabric that I could get my hands on, pipe cleaner nose wires, you name it. I was giving them away to friends, sending them to family, then something unexpected happened. A friend asked me if I could make 10 masks for a daycare. My first order, ever. I carefully put them together with love, feeling so accomplished holding a stack of handmade goodies at the end. Then, well, the word got out, before I knew it I had made over 200 carefully folded face covers. The mask shortage had led to a full-time craft habit, and out of pure necessity I had begun to create again, and it felt amazing.

I started to make videos. At first, selling extra masks, then just about everything else. I joined Tiktok at the urging of some friends. I watched in awe as people created amazing things out of materials I had never even heard of and I fell headfirst down the rabbit hole. I started making earrings here and there, I even decided to start an online shop. I kept creating video content, although I thought no one was watching when a friend asked if I could make grilled cheese earrings for their shop. All I had to work with was a little clay, a craft knife, and a willingness to give it a go. They turned out great.

Then the strangest thing happened, people started asking me for crafting advice. Having no real idea what I was doing, but always happy to help, (and with nothing but time on my hands) I went for it. With that, an idea was born, Dottie does DIY – the craft show where I have no idea what’s going on. And people loved it. After all, isn’t crafting all about trying new things and learning from your mistakes?

As time went on, I started to gain a following, my fellow weirdos and spooky friends. A group of total strangers who accepted me for who I am, and who helped me rediscover my authentic self.

Somewhere deep in isolation, I realized something, when the world was big, I had been treading water. But stuck alone inside the walls of a small apartment with a sewing machine, an internet connection, and a whole lot of glitter, I learned how to swim again. I found a community that loves to learn and create together. One that's eager to find joy in the little things like getting a new plant, or learning how to speak crochet.

I peeled away the hard exterior that had developed from years of being who I thought I was supposed to be and discovered the little girl I was before. The one who loved to try new things, even if they didn’t always turn out right, the one who used to hot glue rhinestones to her book bag and hand paint tee shirts with made-up superhero names. I remembered her, and I started to forget why I thought I needed to be so serious.

I realized that I am imperfect. That I am perfectly imperfect, and the things that I make with my hands could be too. I started making again because I had to, and now I craft every chance I have because I get to.

When I lost my job, I wasn’t sure what I would do, but I managed to find something that filled my heart with so much joy I couldn’t help but share it with others. I started making jewelry packed to the brim with glitter, and people loved it. I realized I could share that joy through crafts. When my dad got sick and I couldn’t go see him because of the pandemic, I picked up my crochet hook and I made him hats. I realized I could send him my love with crafts. And when I needed to send help, I reached out to that community that I had built, they bought everything I had ever made, and I realized I could take care of my family with my craft.

Creativity has always been a huge part of my life, sometimes it was just for fun, just to relax, or just to share something with friends. But I have discovered the more time and love I pour into making, the more my world keeps expanding. I am so grateful for every stitch, every ribbit, and every bump in the road because I can see now that every mountain I have climbed has turned me into the full-time creative weirdo I am so proud to be today. I never thought by losing a job, I would gain so much.

I rediscovered the joy of being silly, the absolute freedom of not caring what anybody else thinks. I found out that learning from my mistakes, and laughing about it along the way, makes other people want to learn from their mistakes too. That opening up and sharing my creative process allows others to feel that they have the space to create alongside me. We learned that everyone makes things a little different and that we can learn and grow from each other. We no longer fear our mistakes, instead, we learn from them, laugh at them, and find in all the ways we never saw before, that we are better for them.

It took the world closing down for me to open back up, to give that little girl in me a big hug, let her wear a little glitter, and even dye her hair to match her scissors.