Hey Be-YOU-tifuls!
It had been fifteen years since I last held a crochet hook. Fifteen years since yarn slipped through my fingers in slow rhythm. Fifteen years since I created something simply because it made my heart feel light. I did not make a dramatic decision to stop or declare that I was done. Life simply became louder, busier, heavier, and somewhere along the way, the quiet parts of me were gently set aside.
There was marriage to nurture, kids to take care of, dreams to chase, and a business to build. Those responsibilities felt urgent, important, and non-negotiable. And like many women, I stepped into the roles that were needed of me. I learned how to push through. I learned how to prioritize outcomes. I learned how to measure progress in numbers and milestones. What I did not notice was that I was slowly abandoning things that bring me joy.
Disclaimer: This blog shares insights and perspectives based on personal experience and is intended for educational purposes only. It’s not a replacement for professional coaching, therapy, or counseling. If you’re struggling with mental health concerns, please contact a qualified professional who can provide personalized support.
The Moment I Knew I Needed to Come Back
Three weeks ago, I began noticing crochet and knitting content everywhere on my social media feed. A reel of someone crocheting a colorful blanket. A video of hands working through delicate lacework. A time-lapse of a sweater coming to life, row by row. At first, I scrolled past without much thought. But the content kept appearing. And appearing. And appearing.
The algorithm, in its own strange way, seemed to know something I hadn’t realized yet. Each video made me feel something. A small spark of longing. A soft memory. A quiet pull at my heart that said, “Remember when you used to do this?” I found myself pausing longer on those videos, watching the rhythm of the hooks, and feeling an ache for something I couldn’t quite identify.
Then one night, a quiet voice reminded me of the version of myself who used to sit on the couch on Sunday afternoons, completely absorbed in the rhythm of creating something with my hands. No phone. No agenda. Just me, the yarn, and the meditative loop after loop. I realized I hadn’t felt that kind of peace in years. So, the universe had been nudging me, and social media had been mirroring back what I’d been missing. So I bought some yarn, and I started crocheting again.
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What Happened When I Picked Up the Hooks Again
At first, my hands felt clumsy. The yarn felt unfamiliar. My stitches were uneven. Some leaned awkwardly to the side. Others were too tight. The edges were not perfectly straight. If you looked closely, you would see every inconsistency. But something magical happened: I didn’t care.
I wasn’t crocheting to make something perfect or impressive. I was doing it simply because it felt good. And in that simplicity, I found something I’d been missing: myself. The version of me who creates for the joy of creating. Who finds pleasure in the process, not just the outcome. Who knows that rest isn’t lazy and joy isn’t frivolous.
My Perfect Little Imperfection Bag
The first thing I created after fifteen years was a little bag made with t-shirt yarn in single crochet. It was my first time working with this chunky, textured material. My first time creating a full bag with handles made entirely from yarn. Every step felt new. Every stitch was a small victory. And when I finished, I could see every flaw.
The stitches were uneven in places. The edges weren’t perfectly straight. But when I look at this bag, I don’t see imperfection. I see evidence that my hands still remember how to create. I see the hours I spent present with myself, not checking my phone, not solving problems, but just being, making, and breathing through each loop.
This is my “Perfect Little Imperfection Bag,” and I love it; not despite its flaws, but because of what it represents. I made this with my hands and my heart. In a world that demands polish and perfection, there is something deeply powerful about creating something simply because it brings you joy. This bag has already done the most important thing: it brought me back to myself.
When Did We Stop Doing Things Just for Us?
Here’s what I’ve been thinking about: somewhere along the way, many of us—especially women—learned that our worth is tied to our productivity. We schedule our days down to the minute. We hustle, optimize, and multitask. And when we finally sit down to rest, we feel guilty about it. We forget that we’re allowed to do things simply because they make us happy. We forget that reconnecting with ourselves isn’t indulgent; it’s just essential.
It made me wonder how many women have quietly disconnected from parts of themselves in the name of responsibility. How many of us have put down the paintbrush, the dance shoes, the piano keys, the baking trays, the poetry, the sewing machine, the gardening gloves, and so forth, because life became serious? We are not machines. We are not only creators of results. We are creators of experience.
The Rhythm of Return
When I sit with yarn in my lap, there is no rush. There is no performance. There is no comparison. There is only rhythm. Loop. Pull. Turn. Count. Breathe. In that simple repetition, I find presence. In that presence, I find clarity. And in that clarity, I remember who I am beneath the noise.
Reconnecting with joy is not childish. It is courageous. It takes courage to slow down in a world that celebrates hustle. It takes courage to do something unproductive. It takes courage to say, “This makes me happy,” without needing to justify it. It takes courage to nurture the parts of yourself that are invisible to everyone else.
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Your Invitation to Return
I want to extend this invitation to you too. Not necessarily to crochet. But to return. Return to something you once loved before the world told you to be practical. Before responsibilities multiplied. Before you convinced yourself that there was no time, or before you decided it was not important.
So, what did you love when no one was watching? What made you lose track of time? What felt playful, effortless, and freeing? It might feel uncomfortable at first to return. Your hands might feel clumsy. Your voice might feel rusty. Your confidence might waver. You might not be as “good” as you once were. Whatever it is…I’m inviting you to pick it back up. The goal is not perfection. The goal is reconnection.
Integration, Not Addition
We spend so much time becoming who we think we need to be. Perhaps it is time to also remember who we already are. I am still building. I am still growing. I am still ambitious. But I am no longer willing to grow at the expense of my joy. The woman I am becoming includes the woman who loved to crochet, to rollerskate, and to dance. She includes the softness, the creativity, the stillness. And that integration feels like empowerment.
Real empowerment is not only about achievement. It is about alignment. It is about honoring both your strength and your tenderness. It is about choosing success without self-abandonment. It is about allowing joy to coexist with ambition.
My Challenge to You
This week, I want you to do one thing—just one—that’s purely for your own joy. No agenda. No outcome. No posting about it if you don’t want to. No proving anything to anyone. Just you, reconnecting with a part of yourself you may have forgotten.
With love and a little yarn in my lap, Danoue G.
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