content warning: talk of body image
2020 was a weird year. I think we can all agree on that. It tested our limits and boundaries and for so many of us, I feel like it broke some down even. I was not being perceived and subsequently, I was not making a sound. I was listening instead. Okay, that sounds cheesy as hell, but it feels true. I was listening more to who I was and met myself at deeper levels from a widened mental bandwidth that was usually wasted on trying to figure out other people’s perceptions of how I looked or acted. Social anxiety is a trap, isn’t it?
I don’t know if anyone else experienced the same thing, but I saw more and more people questioning their gender, appearance, and goals in life. Seeing people on social media come out of shells they had been trapped in for so long and it made me feel like it was something I could do too. I learned more about disability justice and acknowledged that I am both chronically ill and disabled. I came out to friends and family as bisexual (in 2021, but it was the culmination of sitting with myself for so long and recognizing who I really am. And if I haven’t told you yet, hello! I’m fruity as hell!). I started playing around with my curly hair and respecting its choice of violence every morning. I looked at my body differently, and thought more about what I put on it emanating who I was and not who I wanted to be.
I continued the conversation I’d been having in my head about why I had chased after trendy clothes for years hoping that if I had just this one piece of clothing in my wardrobe, just that one jacket or one dress, it would be complete and people would think I was put together. I think the dopamine rush that online shopping gives had a hold on me for too long, and growing up with the mall as an easy place to hang out made the capitalist pressure of staying on trend even more suffocating. But to be honest, living in a disabled body that also chooses violence some days is hard to dress. This body does so much to support me, and I do so much to support it, but when straight sized trousers don’t fit over scar tissue on my stomach I feel like it hasn’t held up its side of the bargain. Social media brought me more people who look like me that I could learn about disabled confidence from, as well as the wide array of styles that are actually out there and not just what’s being shoved down my throat on targeted ads. I learned more about slow fashion, and bought a Singer Start machine in March of 2021. I have been altering clothes since high school, but until I butchered hand sewing a gauze dress did I take the plunge. I wanted to have some more control over this part of my self expression, and it has both been an incredible creative outlet and the bane of my existence.
The issue is that I hate reading instructions. I am a learn-by-doing, give me something broken and let me figure out how to fix it kind of learner. I like making mistakes, but only in an incredibly safe space where I have to make mistakes because I wasn’t given any instructions. IF I have the instructions, I better do it right the first time, and all I’ll know is what I was told, not all that I can learn from the task at hand. I’ll literally buy a chair, throw away the instructions with the box, and start building just trusting that I will be able to figure it out (my partner hates this). I have made so many mistakes while sewing garments and it is so freakin frustrating because of the money wasted on fabric that doesn’t make it into a drawer. Honestly, most of the garments I make I don’t end up wearing all that much. I’m still learning about my actual style and what fits me well. But my god, do I know my limits well now. I have to set a hard cut off at 8 pm each night to put my machine away and come down from the crafting chaos. And I’ve made so many things! And that is so cool! I am learning new skills and enjoying the process! That is enough.
I wish I could give you some deep metaphor about sewing the pieces of my life together, but really I’m just figuring things out and taking them one step at a time. I’ve started quilting, which was an easy art to jump in to after accumulating a mountain of scrap fabric too small for garments. Hand quilting is a much slower process than using a sewing machine, and the forced slowness is something my overactive brain and body really need (I’ve recently realized how easily the tempo of music affects my heart rate.) If you ever find yourself with extra (clean) bedsheets or clothing items, feel free to send em my way to be repurposed into a cared for and functional embodiment of life. Okay that was a lil cheesy too. Love me some cheddar.
what I’m working on: quilted stockings for me and my partner from this tutorial by suzy quilts!
something local: dog owners and dog lovers should check out the cliffs and trails of fort funston! you may find woody and i frolicking one weekend morning ☺︎
something to read: jess bailey of @publiclibraryquilts’ zine many hands make a quilt details short histories of radical quilting and has taught me so much about the history of this art. she also has other features you can read online
something to listen to: made by many with kara roselle