Where is my joy?

Where is my joy?

I have always believed that we all deserve joy. Even when I was growing up in a single parent home, with not a lot of love, and way too much instability. Even in my twenties as I fought illnesses and struggled to survive, I knew there was something, somewhere that would bring me happiness. Even as I moved from California to Iowa and eventually to New York, I knew one day I would find the thing I was meant to do. When I met my husband all the pieces of my life seemed to fall into place, and then our daughter was born, and everything was just about perfect. Yet, I knew there still was something out there that would light my soul on fire, something that would make me happy as an individual, not just as a mom and a wife, and I was going to find it no matter how long it took.

I have been looking for this “thing” for as long as I can remember. I have tried so many hobbies looking for something that would bring me joy and while I took to a lot of them, I didn’t LOVE them. I wasn’t truly passionate about any of them. I compiled a list of them for you to see that I put in a pretty good effort.

Here are the things I tried while searching for my joy:

Hiking, acting, golf, running , snowboarding , jet skiing , water skiing , camping , gourmet chocolates , cake decorating , survival in the wilderness , gardening , cooking , woodworking , kayaking , blogging , yoga , graphic design , biking , rollerblading , fishing , geocaching , boating , stand-up comedy , miniature painting , fantasy Hockey , Dungeons and Dragons , laser engraving , epoxy crafts , Cricut , paleo cooking, diet coaching , pilates , writing , running , meditation , knitting, crocheting , sewing.

I have failed to some degree at all of these things. Except sewing. I received a sewing machine as a Christmas gift from my husband in 2019. I had never used a sewing machine before or had even the slightest inkling of how to turn the thing on, but I thought it could be fun to learn, and would be another hobby to add to my list of “failures”.

The very first thing I had to do, the most important first step of every hobby I tried, was to shop. I needed all the supplies. Maybe I don’t actually like hobbies, maybe I just like shopping? Anyway, I took a trip to my local fabric store, and I bought all the notions I might possibly need. Thread? Check. Fabric? Check. Pins and pin cushion? Check, check. Cutting matt, rotary cutter, Fiskars scissors? Check, check, check.

Once I had everything I needed, I set it all up on the dining room table. Then I sat in front of the machine visualizing the ornate garments, the show worthy home decor, all the beautiful gifts I’d make, and the pure talent that will come pouring out of my hands once I figured out where the power switch is. Then I got up to make dinner.

I sat in front of that sewing machine several times over the first few days trying to read the directions that were in some form of English, but not my English. What the hell is a presser foot?? Then finally, after a week of visualizing myself sew, I logged into the internet and watched a lot of videos on how to set this machine up. And then I did it! I threaded a bobbin, and then the machine. I threaded the needle and had all the knobs turned to whatever setting that lady on the internet told me to set them at. I was ready to make…..well, something.

I decided that the first thing that I would make is a throw pillow. How hard could it be? It’s two pieces of fabric in a square. I can handle a square; I just threaded this beast of a machine and I’m feeling like I can conquer the world. As far as my ego was concerned a square had nothing on me. Turns out, a square had everything on me. I laid out my turquoise and white fabric, measured the 18-inch squares and cut it beautifully with my brand-new Fiskars. I pinned it all in place and lined it up on the machine. I was sitting pretty tall at this point. Successful step after successful step had led me down the path to a false sense of confidence.

I turned on my machine and flipped the switch that dropped the presser foot (which, I learned is the thingy that holds the fabric down, and if you don’t use it your stitches will come out looking like spaghetti). I pressed my bare foot down easily onto the pedal to run the stitch and delighted in the fact that I was finally SEWING!! That glorious feeling of success lasted about four seconds. Why the hell is my line all wobbly? I am holding the fabric straight and the line looks like a snail trail. How do people do this?

Thank goodness the machine came with one of those stabby thread puller things, which I later learned is called a seem ripper. I pulled my stitches, lined up my fabric again and pushed my foot into the pedal, again. Zig zag, wobbly lines, again. What the $^&$@ is happening?

I pulled the stitches several times until I had an epiphany; who cares? The stitches don’t have to be perfectly straight, nobody will even see them because they are on the inside! So, I continued on to sew the other 3 and a half sides of the square. Wow, it looked so bad. But the good news is that when I flipped the pillow right side out you couldn’t really tell how messy the inside was. I was totally going to make this pillow!!

After I had sewn the sides, and flipped it right side out, I realized that I may have forgotten to buy fluff for the inside of the pillow. I should have realized as much as it must have been the only thing left in the store. So, I had to sacrifice a few old stuffed animals that my daughter kindly offered up, and I put their innards into my new pillow form. I squished the opening in the side into my machine to close up the stuffing hole and ran a terribly crooked and obvious stitch to close it up. I had a pillow. An incredibly mediocre pillow. My very first mediocre pillow.

That pillow was the start of something truly special. I love sewing. Even in the midst of an expletive laced rant about how the tension on the machine is fine, and why did the thread pull out of the eye of the needle!? And how the hell am I supposed to make straight lines?? Even in those moments, I knew I was creating something. Sometimes I created something terrible, sometimes it was beautiful, but every time, I created it. I had never felt that kind of success in all the other things that I tried. I had never felt that same pride as I felt when I looked at that sloppy pillow filled with murdered stuff animals. I mean sure, I made a beautiful human once, but lots of people do that. Not everyone can sew a pillow.

I guess I always knew I would find my joy, I just didn’t know it would be sewing. The wonderful thing about finding sewing in December of 2019 is that during the height of the pandemic, sewing was the only thing that made me forget that the world was upside down. I knew I was making something with my own hands, and however it turned out it took me away to a place without covid. That’s how I know it’s my joy, my happiness. Over the last 18 months I have gotten pretty good and have even sold quite a few pieces that I made, and I still feel that same excitement when I finish a new project. That same sense of joy and pride swells up in my chest when I look at my creations.

So, my advice to everyone is to keep looking for your joy until you find it. Try a hundred different things and be okay with being terrible at a lot of them, because you may find the thing that sparks a fire in your soul, and it may be something you never expected. But you won't ever find it if you don’t start looking.