onceafatgirl

Peace is better than chocolate

Archive for the tag “crochet”

I can just get to work

I started doodling. And it’s maybe changing my life?

A lot of things have come together in my brain recently, that have changed the way I think about myself and my abilities. 

I have never been good at drawing. That just seemed like an obvious truth. I also have terrible penmanship. I really wanted to be one of those girls in school with the big loopy script. Or the ones who could change their handwriting at will! One girl in high school told me she was changing her w’s to a cooler style. I was thinking, you get a say in how you write your w’s????

And then I was thinking about teaching crochet. See, I hold my hook like I hold a screwdriver. But another very common way is to hold the hook like a pencil. And I tried to teach myself to hold my own hook like that, in case I need to demonstrate something to someone who holds their hook like a pencil. And I can’t. I was able to teach myself to crochet left handed holding it like a screwdriver, but I cannot do it with my dominant hand in a pencil grip. My fingers don’t work like that. 

So I have always had it hard wired in my brain that I am bad at visual art. And I have all of this evidence because my fingers don’t work like that. I am not saying I thought I was bad at art. But bad at anything that required me to take a 3 dimensional view and render it in 2 dimensions. In fact, oddly enough, I sometimes look at cartoons of animals to create a crochet pattern. In other words, I *can* do the opposite and take a 2 dimensional drawing and render it in 3 dimensions. I am great at knowing how string moves. I am a great fiber artist. I can knit and crochet and make friendship bracelets. The hardest part of embroidery for me is the drawing of the image.

But then I started doodling. Social media has been feeding me a steady diet of doodling content for a few months now. For a long time it was just satisfying to watch. But eventually I wanted to try. And I thought it was about the colors. Because most of these videos are so gorgeous and colorful. But I am actually pretty obsessed with plain black ink on the page. 

And then one of these videos said that a lot of creativity is not the result of being excited. It comes after repetition after repetition when you’re finally bored because you have made all of the obvious choices. 

So I have been making spider webs. And other fun stuff. But I keep coming back to spider webs. Over and over. Line drawings, or exploration of patterns and repeats, whatever. Just do it again.

And it has started to make some sense to me. It’s just shapes. And also, drawing is not an innate gift. Some people have a natural talent, but it can be learned. There are teachable techniques. Which I suppose I have always known, but not believed. Not for me, anyway. And MY FINGERS STILL DON’T WORK LIKE THAT! I make so many mistakes. Miss so many lines. But I’m learning how to use them, to incorporate them, to hide them, to just accept them.

I have to know in my heart and head that this place of ever evolving self acceptance that leads me to these new places of self discovery, that leads to deeper acceptance, and so on, is based on 20 cumulative years of choosing not to eat drug foods when shit got real. It’s 20 years of working through difficult situations by experiencing the pain, the disappointment, the discomfort, the stress, the joy, the excitement, the love. 20 years of eating three meals a day with Life in between. It’s 20 years of not being ashamed of myself for not being able to stop eating. 

Not being ashamed of myself has done wonders for my art.

I don’t have to be a visual artist. But I like that I don’t have to not be either. I don’t have to label it either way as part of my identity. And if the time comes when my doodling expands and visual art is part or all of what I want to create, I can go in without thinking I am “bad at” something. I can just get to work. 

All my castles on solid ground

With all of the things going on in my life over the past 6 months, I had not been making anything. No dolls, no toys, no blankets, no squares, no nothing. 

But finally, over the past 2 to 3 weeks I have started to make again! I am working on designing a little crochet convertible toy when I have the mental energy to do crochet math, and a seed stitch knit blanket when I don’t. 

One of the things that recovery from sugar addiction and compulsive eating has offered me is a firm foundation in the tangible. AKA “Doing the work.”

I am one of those girlies who straddles the line between woo woo and science. And one of the most important things I learned when I got abstinent from sugar and arrested my compulsive eating was that manifesting is not magic. It doesn’t mean “free.” And that if you do manage to “manifest” something without any work behind it, under it, there is nothing to hold it up. Building castles in the air, if you will.

When I was eating compulsively, I could absolutely lose weight. For periods of time, at least. But never ever once did I go on a diet or a program where I lost weight and thought, “this is the answer. I could sustain this!” 

Never once until I put my current boundaries around my food. Specific and measurable. Literally. Eating 3 times a day. Eliminating my drug foods. Weighing my food. With a community of people who do what I do. 

I had to change. I had to choose different foods. I had to choose different behaviors. I had to choose different thoughts. I had to give up whole ways of being. I had to have a crisis of self! (That sounds very dramatic but it was mostly a lot of me being in public in my pajamas and drinking gallons of coffee with a bajillion packets of sweet n low.)

And one of the ways that manifested for me was in honoring the cyclical nature of life. More specifically of MY life. That not every moment is a moment for creation. That not every purpose is one of productivity. That the moment is worthy. That I am worthy of rest and healing. That conversely, I am capable of digging deep and reaching so far beyond my comfort zone that I astonish even myself. 

The past 6 months has been a wonderful reminder how good I am at managing a project. How efficient I am. How dependable. It was fun. It was great to have so many new experiences, some of them a little scary. (In a grown up way, not a safety way.) 

And now I am ready to create again. In a new home with a new view and a new neighborhood with new people to meet. I am excited to be inspired and confounded and willing to try and fail. I can’t wait to spend hours making only to spend minutes unmaking and then giving it another go. No really. 

Getting control of my eating gives me peace enough to live my life as a process. I’m here for the experiences. And it’s all just experiences. 

Making bad art. And also great art. As one does.

I finished my lined zipper pouch. It was (is) absolutely hideous. And kind of hilarious. But I love it and am proud of it. And people on social media told me it looked kind of like a baked potato. 

So I modified the pattern, and changed the colors, and made a freaking adorable baked potato zipper pouch. With a fabric lining and crocheted butter pats and chives on top. I’m still considering how to crochet a dollop of sour cream for a little zipper accessory.

One of the most important lessons I learned about art is that you have to be willing to make bad art to make great art. And that not all your art is going to be great, even if you are a great artist. 

That was a lesson I heard, but did not *get* until I had my eating under control and I was no longer drugging myself with sugar. 

When I was eating sugar and drug foods compulsively, it really felt like I would never eat again if I didn’t eat that thing (cake, cookie, piece of pizza) right now. Like that was the last one on Earth and it needed to be mine.

I crafted in a similar manner when I was still eating sugar. Obsessed. Obsessive. Frantic. Inspiration was fleeting. And without the discipline of keeping my eating under control, I didn’t even understand discipline. You want me to STOP and then START AGAIN?????

Addiction felt like I would literally die if I  didn’t get my drug (sugar.) And similarly I felt like I would literally die if I stopped working on that project.

And because of that the art I made was often rushed and half assed. I didn’t want to do the mundane parts. I didn’t care about the details. I just needed to get it done!

When I gave up sugar and put boundaries around my eating, I learned that there was always another meal coming. Not just was told, but understood! And that let me be calm enough to focus on other things.

Now, when I make art, it is a vehicle for the details. I even IRONED the fabric lining for sewing and just general neatness. Who even am I???

I have some more ideas. More things I want to make. And perhaps some of them will be hideous. But it feels good to make some creative leaps early in 2025. 

I didn’t even want to be here

Honestly, I don’t even want to be here. There is a super ambitious (for me) project I’m working on. I’m cloth lining a crochet pouch and adding a zipper.

My first cloth lining. My first adding a zipper. I made my own pattern on graph paper. The piece, currently in progress, has gross imperfections that I will have to come up with better techniques for to make more in the future. But I always have a kind of deep knowing that I am good at making. And that I love it. That even the dissatisfaction is its own kind of satisfaction.

But I have the life I have because I take self care seriously and treat it methodically. 

I write this blog every week because I am committed to writing about my life as a recovering sugar addict. It’s self care like journaling, meditation, and exercise. Once I got my eating under control I could see that commitment was life changing. And that talking openly regularly about sugar addiction was a way I wanted to change my life. And it worked.

So here I am writing when I would rather be accidentally stabbing myself with needles and pins…(ok, I do actually hate that part. But I want to get back to it nonetheless.)

I could burn myself out on making. I want to. The addict in me absolutely wants to. I want to binge it the way I used to binge chocolate. Forget about my commitments. Just zone out.

And I used to make that way. Crazy up all night sugar fueled binges of compulsive creating. Too emotional to have the time or patience to actually care about craft. 

Being forced to stop to take care of my commitments, like eating my 3 meals, doing each of my weekly workouts, sleeping 8 hours a night, has made it possible for me to make more patiently. To take care of the details. There is no rush. 

It often felt like inspiration would go away if I didn’t finish. And sometimes it did go away. And sometimes it still does. 

But in the end, when I stop even when I don’t want to, to do things I know I need to, I get further, I learn more, and I make better. 

Now that this commitment is done I can make a little more. 

Until lunch.

Life, God and the Universe Conspiring

I found out this week that I did not get the job teaching art to kids. 

If I had gotten the news a week ago, I would have been devastated. But instead, I just remembered that I can’t get a job that isn’t for me. And I can’t lose a job that’s mine. 

See, I believe that. I know that. Ever since I put my drug foods down and stopped eating compulsively, I have had a level of peace and clarity that lets me see clearly, and choose my reactions. Now I understand that Life is always giving me better than I thought I wanted. I have very real examples of it throughout the 18+ years of having the sugar down. Men that dumped me and jobs that fell through, only to find out that there was something better waiting for me. Something and someone *right* for me.

But sometimes, when I am attached to something, a specific outcome, or just needing a *win* for once, whatever I have decided a “win” is, it feels so personal. So targeted. Like Life and God and the Universe are out to get me.

But in these little moments of clarity I can see that when I get my ego out of my own way, Life, God and the Universe have only ever conspired to give me the best. A life beyond my wildest dreams.

My mother-in-law sent me a picture of a crocheted potato this week. Right before I got the email about the art teacher job. And I asked if she wanted to learn how to make one. She did! I got excited and I have spent the past few days trying a bunch of different potato patterns. Accidentally made an egg pattern. Made an egg cup for a princess, and gave the egg a face and a tiara. Gorgeous and hilarious. A gift for a friend!

My creativity feels abundant. I am making art. I am writing a lesson plan to teach how to crochet a potato. I am feeling excited and inspired. 

I still don’t have a job. And I still want to make money. But I trust that the best way for me to do that is on its way. Maybe by teaching people how to crochet potatoes. Who knows? Not me. And I don’t need to worry about it. I can let Life, God and the Universe conspire without me.

Avoiding the pit of despair (and carbs)

First, for those of you who are dying to know, I did finish my character doll in time to gift it to the author. I didn’t get to give it to her directly, per either her own or the book store’s policy, but the doll turned out better than I expected and I was sorry to give her away. So sorry that all this week in my free time, I have been working on a smaller version for myself. (She’s a particular shade of blue -like the grey blue of hydrangeas – and I didn’t have enough yarn to make another one the same size.)

I am proud. Proud of the doll. Proud of my progress as a crafter and an artist. Proud of my accomplishments but also of my work, my willingness to work, and my willingness to undo the work that doesn’t work.

In getting my eating under control I had to learn to live my life differently, and to view my life from a different perspective. Because when I was eating compulsively, my life revolved around my feelings and my feelings were volatile and always leaned towards discontent. So when I wanted to make something – and I did. I was an artist from a young age – I was only interested in the completed work, not the process. And I was obsessed with time. Or at least I was obsessed with the time I had already spent. So if I spent time on something and it came out wrong, I didn’t want to go back. I didn’t want to spend even more time “fixing” what I “should have done right the first time.” So I either had a thing I didn’t like, or I gave up in frustration.

In getting my eating under control I leaned to deal with difficult feelings. First hunger. I learned to be hungry and not eat. I learned that hunger, at least the kind that I was experiencing, would not kill me. (I am not talking about real hunger. I am not talking about food insecurity. I am talking about having feelings that were uncomfortable and the desire to eat my drug foods to numb those feelings.) And then frustration. And then the shame of failure.

And what I learned by feeing these difficult feelings and not eating over them is that on the other side, if I don’t numb myself, there is a choice to be made. Do I leave the mistake or do I go back and fix it? Because suddenly there was a choice. And to make it, whatever I chose, made me understand how I controlled my own life.

Of course I had always controlled my own life. But I didn’t know that. And I didn’t have the capacity to figure it out. Because I was constantly shoving those feelings down and burying them under a belly full of chocolate cake.

When I put boundaries around my eating I gave myself the opportunity to learn and grow. I did not know that I was lacking it before. Because I was smart. I was capable. I was a quick learner. But none of these things were worth anything when a stumble landed me face first in a pit of despair and carbs.

Don’t worry. Tomorrow I will be dissatisfied with my doll making skills again. In fact, I already am. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. But I am still proud of the work I have done. I just want to be better. Whatever that takes.

I couldn’t do it alone

I had another crochet doll breakthrough this week. And it was an interesting reminder about how other perspectives from other actual humans can change things so drastically for me.

I am making a character doll from my most recent favorite series, and this character wears sandals. So I had to figure out how to crochet a bare foot. A bare foot!

Well I mentioned it on a crochet forum online, and lots of people asked to see it. And the first attempt was hilarious. Hilariously awful. But I posted it. 

Now the crochet forum is full of really nice, really supportive people who love crafting. And lots of people said my first try was not as bad as I thought. Which may have been true. But I was not satisfied. And I was not going to waste fancy, expensive, DISCONTINUED yarn to make something I thought was meh at best. (I may be a yarn snob, but I’m still cheap.) But one of the commenters said I should try a particular stitch for the toes. (Popcorn stitch, in case you know or care.) And it is something I never would have thought of myself. But it was perfect! And I am thrilled with the results! I even made her right foot with my fancy, expensive, discontinued yarn!

I am a loner. I love my own company. I am content in my own head. I can go for days and not see another person and be perfectly content. I mean, I do see my husband. But even he, who is probably a bit of a loner himself, can be home with me and we will happily do our own things for long periods of time. 

But this can make me forget how other people can shift my perspective, my thoughts, my choices.

When I was in the food, I didn’t talk about food or eating with people. My eating was simultaneously shameful and deeply private. I did not talk about the crazy things I did. I did not want to say them out loud. And that made me feel very much like I was not only bad, but I was the only one. 

When I got my eating under control, and got into a community of people also getting their eating under control, I heard people say that they did the exact same things that I had. And even some crazy things that I had never done. (Yet. There’s always time. It’s why I still do all of the things I do and I don’t pretend I’m cured.)

I needed a community. I needed to know I was not alone. I needed to know that other people were crazy the way I was. And I needed to know that even those people who had been in it even deeper than I had, had somehow found a solution.

With both design and eating, I have learned that my accomplishments are both mine, and the community’s. I had to do the work. I had to show up, put in the effort, make the mistakes and feel the feelings. But I could not do it alone.

Reclaiming My Time

When I got my eating under control in 2006, what I ended up getting was a lot of time. Like a ridiculous amount of time. 

So much of my life before that was eating, or planning the next thing I would eat, or getting the thing I wanted to eat, or just thinking about eating. And then there was the body stuff. Trying to pick clothes that hid my body, or trying on everything I owned because I hated my body and hoped that something would look ok.

When I put boundaries around my eating, I definitely spent a lot of time meal prepping. But “a lot of time” is relative. And so I had a block of 2-3 hours once or twice a week to make all the food I would eat for the week. And eating itself took absolutely no more than 3 hours a day. And I did not have to think about my body anymore. I could just put on clothes and go about my day. And I didn’t have to think about eating all the time, because I already *knew* what I was going to eat and when.

Add to all of that the rise of YouTube, and all of the crafting tutorials everywhere, and suddenly, I had the time and brain space to get great. I leveled up in crochet, taught myself how to knit, and acquired new and more impressive crafting skills.

Well, recently I made a dress up doll that looks like a character from the Bridgerton tv show, because I am obsessed with her dresses (and her character.) And of course the show is a huge budget period piece so the dresses are complicated. I decided that I needed to learn to embroider. More specifically to embroider on crochet to make the appliqué designs. Because of course I did.

The point is, I can. I have the time. I have the brain space to learn. I have the desire to do something even if it is complicated.

The other thing that I have is the willingness to do the prep work. I spent many hours crocheting a particular dress, before the appliqué accents. And there was a time before having my eating under control, when I would have watched some tutorials, and then jumped right in and gone to work on the finished dress. And maybe it would have been ok, but maybe it wouldn’t. But I was too impatient to take my time. I didn’t have much time. There was food to obsess over and eat, and clothes to try on and take off, and a body to lament.

But getting back all of that time has made me willing and able to do my due diligence. To make a swatch (or 2, or sometimes 3) and practice. To try new techniques, and decide which worked best. To really play with it. 

Crafting makes me proud. I love what I do. I love the feeling of accomplishment. I love having an object that I can hold in my hand. I love the puzzle of figuring out how to take an idea and make it a reality.

I was always creative. I made all kinds of art through all kinds of media, my whole life. But I never had the patience or brain space to really excel until I put boundaries around my eating and took back my time.

Phew, am I gonna be one skilled sailor!

If you read last week’s post, you know that I am in the middle of a huge artistic crochet undertaking and I had really started to hate it. It’s an original design, a character doll, and I have been working on it for many weeks. Well, one particular part, the hair, was something I had been working on for almost as long as all of the rest of the doll. It’s a common thing. The hair is always the single most time consuming part of one of my dolls. And I realized that part of my problem was that I had done hours and hours (and HOURS) of work on it, and it is not going to work for what I want to do. In other words, I hated it because I knew that it didn’t serve me or my project and yet I could not let it go.

I am absolutely terrible at letting things go. In general. But in particular, this example was extra hard. It was not my first attempt at the hair for this doll. I had already had to rip back hours of work I had done for my first try. And this second try I got so much farther. So many more hours. It feels like so much time wasted.

I weigh most (if not all) of my food every meal, every day. (There are rules in place for when I don’t have to weigh it. Like I can eat 1 apple, no matter the weight. Or two eggs. Or other similar circumstances. But there are always boundaries.) And it has happened before that something has gone wrong. My scale shut off before I was done. Or I realized that I put the wrong measurement in with some other part of my meal and it was something wet or sticky and I could not just remove it and keep going. And when something like this happens now, I just throw the whole thing away and move on. Because I have over 16 years of experience believing wholeheartedly that my boundaries and my honesty and integrity around food are the most important things in my life. But in the beginning I struggled. What about the cost of the food? What about the time I spent? What about the hard to find ingredients I used in it?

I don’t want my work to be for nothing. I don’t want my time to be wasted. I don’t want to be wrong. I don’t want to have to try and fail. I just want to get it right. I just want smooth sailing and to be exceptional and gifted. I want things to be easy for me the way everything seemed easy to me as a precocious child. 

But what’s the saying? “A smooth sea never made a skilled sailor.”

For as much as I want to be right, gifted, a genius, a natural, a great proficient, I want more to be skilled. And I got that desire for skill over “natural talent” by being willing to abandon what doesn’t work. By being willing to throw away the things that don’t align with my goals.

Look, I totally get high on being precocious, even now at almost 45. And I am, actually, a natural at yarn craft. But I am making new things, hatched from my own mind, not a replica of something hatched from someone else’s. And it’s called trial and error, not trial and automatic success. Even so, setbacks can still make me feel frustrated like a child. 

Which is why I am grateful for the lessons of my eating boundaries. If it doesn’t work, scrap it. The time and the money and the effort are all part of a process. And the goal is to meet a goal, in whatever time and way that happens, not to always only be right.

Art and my noisy brain

I have been working on a crochet project for a few weeks, and I am in an uncomfortable but predictable place with it. I am a good portion of the way done and I have not been working on it almost at all for weeks, because I have begun to wonder if I actually hate it and have made a terrible mistake in trying to make it.

This is predictable because it happens every time I make a project that is an original idea and not based on a pattern. Every. Single. Time.

I know that this is the way of art. That there is nothing to do about it but keep going. And I even know somewhere in the back of my mind that it will probably be amazing, even if it is not perfect. And I know that I can alway frog it back (the common term for pulling out rows of stitches, because you rip it, rip it) and try again if I am so inclined. But knowing all of this does not particularly help me move in one direction or another.

My mind can be a bit of an echo chamber. Thoughts and ideas can bounce around in there for long periods of time, and grow or change shape in all kinds of unpredictable ways.

When I got my eating under control, an important early lesson was how I am “only as sick as my secrets.” That the things that I was afraid or ashamed of were amplified by my reluctance to talk openly about them. And once I found people on whom I could rely to be lovingly honest and nonjudgmental, I started telling my “secrets.” It turns out that the ghosts that can haunt me in my own mind are just shadows and dust bunnies when I shine a light on them. Sunlight is the best disinfectant.

But art (and yes, I do consider myself an artist, and the kind of crafting I do art) is not merely an idea or a concept. The proof of the pudding is in the eating, as they say. (I know, they don’t say that. But they should.) And art is not about ideas, but execution. So even if I were to wax poetic about my current project, which I occasionally do, it still doesn’t change the fact that it is not really anything until it is finished. It is not the idea that is haunting me, but my ability to make the idea tangible, and the reality of whether I can, in fact, manage to do that.

What I have learned about making in the 16+ years since I put boundaries around my eating is to trust the process. To fully embrace this place where I am stuck. To make friends with the rattling jumble of noise in my head. To honor the uncertainty and fear, and then, eventually, push through. To recognize that the idea and the object that is born from it are never the same. That art and craft are different, and that my art will only ever be as good as my skill in the craft. That there will always be more craft to learn, so make the art now anyway. 

Like I said before, I have this experience every time I create something from my own mind. And everything I have ever hated half way through, I have come to love upon completion. So I will probably make a few smaller projects or try some new techniques, and give myself a little distance from this major creative undertaking, and then I will come back to it and power through. And we shall see what I end up with.

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