It’s been a long few weeks since I have completed an embroidery piece. I forgot how good it feels to finish a commission and hear the words, “It’s fantastic, I love it!”
This is not why I started stitching, but comments like these help to remind me that a creative life is a happy life, or at least in my case, a happier life.
I have bipolar and chronic anxiety, I’m a survivor of domestic violence and rape. I have been self-medicating with all the wrong things for all the wrong reasons for years. It wasn’t until I took up stitching that I was able to firstly get clean, stay clean, and start the immense task of unravelling decades of mental illness.
My darling late granddad, whom I miss every day, was a tapestry master. I wish he could see the work I do today. I wish we could have collaborated. In these threads I have found a lifeline, an anchor, an outlet, and therapy.
I am stitching myself together, one piece at a time.