what’s wrong with my sewing?

— what needlepoint has taught me about my perfectionism

As with what seems like half the internet (or maybe that’s just the echo chamber I live in?), I’ve recently taken up several grand-millennial hobbies, including mahjong and needlepoint. Many of my favorite influencers have needlepointed for years, learning the craft from their grandmothers, and while it always piqued my interest, it wasn’t until recently that I decided I want to learn the craft and not simply be an admirer.

For a long time, I didn’t feel think it was worth picking up a needle and thread because I didn’t know what I would want to do with my canvases after they were stitched. To be honest, I still feel that way a little — I gravitate more towards glass ornaments rather than needlepointed ones, I don’t have a particular penchant for decorative pillows, and I don’t think I am a door hanger type of gal. (For those less familiar with needlepoint, these are all popular ways to “finish” a canvas that you’ve sewed.) But as I fell deeper into needlepoint TikTok, I realized there are so many other ways to finish a canvas — even if it’s “just” as beautiful art for your home. And more than that, I realized that not everything I do, especially a hobby, has to have a productive outcome. I could simply stitch to stitch and that would be enough.

So for Christmas, after seeing someone frame it beautifully to display in their home, I asked for this Delft Shell Kit from Abigail Cecile as the inaugural canvas on my needlepoint journey. I started stitching one cold January Friday night while watching reruns of The Price is Right — and I realized quickly that this new hobby was going to trigger my perfectionism. After stitching less than a half-an-inch square, I found myself digging through a sewing kit I randomly bought on Amazon for the seam ripper. I messed up on one row of stitches, and wanted to start over. Despite stitching well into the early morning — I think I put the needle down at around 1AM — I had very little to show for it, because this stitch - rip -stitch - rip pattern continued.

(In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have started with a project I wanted to frame — knowing this canvas would grace my walls for years to come seemed to put a magnifying glass on even the smallest of errors.)

I’m pleased to say I finished that first needlepoint project this week — and with each subsequent stitching session, my stitches got neater and the seam ripper became less involved. And, unsurprisingly, I enjoyed it a lot more when I wasn’t undoing half my work every few minutes. Throughout this process, though, I not only learned how to needlepoint, I learned more about myself — or, more accurately, re-learned something I’ve known about myself since kindergarten: I am a perfectionist.

I wanted to be great from the first stitch, so I had a really hard time accepting that the best way to improve my needlepoint would be by doing more of it — imperfectly. Instead of embracing this learning curve, I tried to skip past it, as if sheer determination could fast-track me to expertise. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized this desire for perfection wasn’t just a needlepoint thing — I do this with just about everything in my life, from obsessing over my Instagram feed to stressing about every meal being 'healthy enough' to pushing myself to excel at every single work task that lands on my plate. I’m incredibly hard on myself when things aren’t perfect, to the point where I sometimes hesitate to put myself out there because if I can’t guarantee I’ll get it right, I’d rather not risk getting it wrong. But stitch by stitch, skein by skein, needlepoint has helped me remember that real progress happens when I let go of the need to be perfect and, instead, focus on showing up and improving along the way.

In addition to bringing my perfectionism to the forefront, needlepoint also shined a light on my bad habit of turning things that should just be fun into goal-oriented projects. In January, after that first night of stitching, I decided I would stitch one project a month — an arbitrary benchmark that, in hindsight, made no sense for a beginner. Within a few weeks, I realized how unrealistic that was, especially since I was still figuring out the basics. But more than that, I started to wonder why I felt the need to set a goal at all. Needlepoint was supposed to be a relaxing hobby, not another item on my to-do list. Letting go of that self-imposed canvas count made the process so much more enjoyable — I could stitch when I wanted, at whatever pace felt right, without feeling like I was falling behind on something that was always supposed to be for fun. This is always the approach I’ve taken with reading, another one of my favorite hobbies, as I never want something I love to feel like a chore.

All of this is easier said than done, but when I catch myself falling into old patterns, I think of one of my favorite poems, Ithaca by C.P. Cavafy. It’s a reminder that the journey itself is the point — that the growth, the discoveries, the joy all happen along the way, not just when you finally arrive. (Or in my case, finish a needlepoint project.)

When you set out on your journey to Ithaca,
pray that the road is long,
full of adventure, full of knowledge.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the angry Poseidon - do not fear them:
You will never find such as these on your path,
if your thoughts remain lofty, if a fine
emotion touches your spirit and your body.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the fierce Poseidon you will never encounter,
if you do not carry them within your soul,
if your soul does not set them up before you.

Pray that the road is long.
That the summer mornings are many, when,
with such pleasure, with such joy
you will enter ports seen for the first time;
stop at Phoenician markets,
and purchase fine merchandise,
mother-of-pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
and sensual perfumes of all kinds,
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
visit many Egyptian cities,
to learn and learn from scholars.

Always keep Ithaca in your mind.
To arrive there is your ultimate goal.
But do not hurry the voyage at all.
It is better to let it last for many years;
and to anchor at the island when you are old,
rich with all you have gained on the way,
not expecting that Ithaca will offer you riches.

Ithaca has given you the beautiful voyage.
Without her you would have never set out on the road.
She has nothing more to give you.

And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not deceived you.
Wise as you have become, with so much experience,
you must already have understood what Ithaca means.

of particular note —

• I have not shopped for clothes at WalMart since Mary Kate + Ashley Olsen had a line there, but recently, I stumbled upon this blue and white quarter-zip sweatshirt and it is so cute for spring! It’s on sale for $10.69 — I think the quality is amazing for the price and found it runs true to size, so if you want it to fit a bit oversized, I would size up. (That’s what I did!)

• My Oura Ring battery recently died — for a while, it would hold a charge for a couple of days, then it started dying in the middle of the night even if it was fully charged, and then it wouldn’t hold a charge at all. I’ve had it for two years, so it was beyond the one year warranty, but after running a diagnostic on my battery, they offered to ship me a replacement free of charge. I was already an Oura fan — I love the sleep data especially! — but this level of customer service was great and completely unexpected!

• I never thought I would be a person that spends $10 on dental floss, but here we are: I love cocofloss! I have several crowns in the back of my mouth, and despite my best efforts with your run-of-the-mill satin floss and a waterpik, my gums were always a little inflamed. After a few weeks of using this floss on the recommendation my dentist, I can vouch for it — it’s really good at getting your teeth clean because it has a textured weave of 500+ interwoven threads that expand like a net to reach and capture cavity-causing plaque. Plus, it was designed by a dentist!