Updated: Aug 24, 2018
I started this blog to follow my journey sewing. But as we all know, sometimes our personal life bleeds into our professional life. This being especially true when you work from the confines of your own home, squeezing in working hours in the middle of the night and between kids napping.
When you cultivate your passions your inner flame burns brighter. But in the life of a stay at home mom, few can see your light. Most days I am only seen by my children, my husband. I speak little to anyone else. Even in my youth it always seemed people were only in passing in my life, having moved almost annually. And so it is now, still. People come for a while, and then as fast as they came, they are gone. Ultimately I share very little of myself besides what I create. But I keep my flame burning for me. Until those rare moments come along when a family member or friend reaches out to hear my story. Unfortunately recently it seems those interactions end with accusations of having been singed by the flames I carefully guard. Those who preach love and acceptance seem to be the most harsh in doling out their judgements. And so I recede. I find comfort in the silence of sewing. The purr of the machine. Each stitch I can control. Unlike the universe that overwhelms me, unlike the complexities of social interaction that befuddle me.
It's funny how social media was designed to connect people. But in truth it feels like one of the most isolating platforms of relating to people. We only post what we feel might impress, our accomplishments, our highlights of life if you will. Rarely do I see someone post the raw struggles of life. And even then it is such wide gap to cross to reach out. People wish you well but there is no real connection. And when you feel that urge to go deeper, I question how it would be received, " will they feel I am prying? are we only acquaintances?" But from a distance I admire their bravery. I have been reflecting a lot on the case of Shannan Watts. Her facebook profile would give no hint of her struggles. The debt. The questions of faithfulness. Only happy cheerful family photos. Because that is what is allowed, expected, the front we want to portray. Not our personal, raw, truthful hardships. I think I am similar. I use social media for my work and God forbid I speak out truthfully to a judgemental world that might reject and attack from behind safe computer screens. And whoa to dampen my professional image so publicly. I don't dream of it. But in person, with those you entrust your true self, that is the most disheartening rejection. And that is why my flame flickers. And once again I must guard it closer. The isolation feels deeper. And so I sew. My work may be the only safe thing. Even without pay, or recognition, I must keep putting down the presser foot. There must be success somewhere to be had. Somewhere I can let my flame burn, where it will bring warmth and appreciation rather than burns and wounds.