The Meditation of the Stitch
The year has flown by, and this one brought some unexpected challenges. In many ways it’s been an incredible year for me; I joined the Louisville Area Fiber & Textile Artists, had my first experience of having a piece of my work in an art show, and I’ve really started to allow myself to take my embroidery work more seriously. But, on the flip side, a long, slow confluence of stressful events, chronic health issues, along with some old emotional wounds not quite healed, led me into a huge physical and emotional crash this fall/ winter. About 10 years ago I had my first big crash, that came along with an anxiety diagnosis. It was a similar setup- although back then I had no idea what was happening- and it really took me by surprise (which made the recovery that much harder). I worked really hard to recover after the first crash, and I was lucky enough to have a wonderful physician, therapist, family and friends to help me through. It took about 18 months to feel somewhat ‘normal’ again, and then life went on, as it always does. I learned A LOT about myself in that season, and found a lot of healing and freedom in beautiful ways. However, I now see that I foolishly assumed that it was ‘one and done’, that I could now logic my way through life- I had my mental health toolkit, and I thought that the emotional wounds I had started to find healing from were ‘healed enough’ to start leaving me alone. I could handle it from here. Of course those weren’t my conscious thoughts, but looking back now I see how much I went right back to a stance of self-protection, squashing my real dreams, and people-pleasing habits. So, here I am, 10 years later, with the same old wounds and another long, slow increase of stresses leading me into a similar place yet again.
These dark seasons are hell. If you’ve never experienced severe and persistent anxiety, I’m genuinely happy for you, but if you have- I can relate to the absolute hell you’ve been through. And here I’ve been again for the past few months. And so I’ve retreated, out of absolute necessity, from everything I possibly could. Moved into a season of hibernation, quiet, rest, and deep healing. I’ve found the support of a nervous system therapist, along with medication, family and good friends. Again, I’m learning A LOT about myself. I need to reconnect with my truest self, release pain I’ve carried around for years, and change the habits that have kept me caged.
And, moment by moment, day by day, I am getting better. Healing is built into every cell in our bodies- an everyday miracle I am so thankful for. Healing is not linear, I definitely know that at this point, and as much as I want to feel 100% better right now, this time I’m not in such a rush to check this off my list and get back to ‘normal’. I don’t want to go back. I’ve already started to build a new ‘normal’ that is so much more joyful and healthy for me. Now I’ve learned that the journey of healing is life-long- not because I’ll always struggle in the same ways, but because I need to stay open, vulnerable, and close to the One who can heal all things.
I’m an introvert, and while I can talk the head off of someone 1:1 when I feel comfortable, I don’t always share much of myself in more public ways. I have very mixed feelings about our society’s addiction to over-sharing, but I think I’ve tended to go the other way and stay too closed off. So, this is me choosing to be a little more open (and feeling queasy as I write all this out for you to read!).
How does healing happen? Social media is chock-full of 30 second soundbites that promise you fast relief from just about anything. But what does it really mean to heal in the ways we need to? I can’t fully answer that question for anyone other than myself. Healing is sometimes a stitching back together of pieces torn apart, and other times it is the burial of old things to make way for the new. Always, it is born of honesty, vulnerability, and connection. Those can be very scary places when we have lived in survival mode for too long. But, just as next year’s leaves are already standing their ground as buds in the coldest winter, so too is your heart. And so is mine.
Part of each day is pretty great, and part is some version of really hard, and it will likely continue that way for a while. And I can have peace with that. Yes, I ask for quick recovery, but I know that it is better to let this season take as much time as it needs to- I need these lessons, this time to let go of the old, dead habits and practice the new ones until they become my nature. I will struggle, I will cry a LOT (which is the BEST release!), and I am still anxious about so many things. But I’m not alone, and as crazy as it may sound, I’m starting to find places of profound joy and hope right here in the middle of the storm.
I learned a long time ago that every storm ends. Yes, another will come, but they never last forever. For me, anxiety is a lot like really bad weather- it can completely block out the sunshine and absolutely, terrifyingly pummel you, but it never changes the fact that the sun is still up there shining. And, just as fast as storms roll in, that can disappear. They often leave scars, but that’s ok.
Sewing has been one of my many lifelines for the past decade. As soon as I started embroidering back in 2013, I felt the meditative lull of this practice. It’s repetitive without being boring, it’s quiet, calm, and creative. The hours you put into it transform time into a tangible object that can beautify and bless. I can’t explain the sense of purpose I feel in stitching. As soon as I started learning, I KNEW it was one of the things I am meant to do in this life. It’s become a venue for expressing my deepest feelings, for encouraging myself, and for creating memorials to the endless ways that God has lovingly walked with me in this life. I will be stitching for as many years as my hands and eyes allow.
I was thinking today about the peace found in time spent stitching and how it can really be used as a meditative practice. I’m working on a small mixed-media piece that includes lace, quilt batting, tree bark, pieces of grass, embroidery and beads. It’s just an experiment trying to capture the memory of a feeling rather than anything realistic or practical. I’m using simple seed stitch to fill in a portion of the background which will be mostly covered by a piece of old, ripped lace. Using several different colors to fill the area, and just wandering around it with my needle, I paused today to observe how my body was reacting to this activity (this is something I’m practicing in different situations right now as I work to rest and regulate my nervous system- it’s very helpful). My breathing was slow and regular, my heart rate calm, my jaw relaxed… I was comfortable, and present in the moment. So I tried to settle into that relaxation even more. Focusing on how much I was enjoying not having a real plan for this piece, giving myself permission to play and explore, and not criticizing myself for being imperfect. I think that anything that helps us to connect to the present, connect to joy, and express ourselves is a healing practice. I’m sure that many of you have practices like this in your lives- I hope you do!
The next time you’re feeling antsy or pent up, I encourage you to pick up needle and thread (if that appeals to you). Pulling thread through fabric- to any end- mirrors the ways we find healing in life. To quote Katherine May in her wonderful memoir Wintering, “the needle breaks the fabric in order to repair it. You cannot have one without the other.” The unexpected storms of life, the slow stresses that pull the oxygen from our lungs, the disappointments and pain WILL pierce us all. And yet….
And yet…. Hope grows back, storms pass, and we can find lasting healing.
Instantly? No.
Easily? Definitely not.
But the threads that can bind up our brokenness make us into something brand new. Scars and all. And It.Is.Worth.It.
I don’t know what the next few months will be like for me, but I know I’m heading in the right direction. One tiny stitch at a time.
If you’re struggling too, know that you are loved, you are enough, and that this storm will pass. There is NO shame in reaching out for the help you need, and you are not alone.
Keep Stitching,
Leah
Beautiful, very intimate personal writing.
As I approach a new chapter in my own life, I know about this healing process.
You have written so well about these dark times and thankfully how the storm clouds finally disappear into daylight once again.
Perhaps, always there but the sunshine working hard to push them away.
Keep on stitching, you have found a balm for your life.
I’m crying as I read this. It is so true and so needed. THANK YOU for being vulnerable enough to share this process and your wisdom on this. ❤️