Dear Reader,
I’ve never been great at first meetings, but luckily, we’ve met before and hopefully that means you aren’t expecting too much from me. My fear of first meetings is built on the realization that no matter how much I try, there’s no way to make everyone like me. I know it’s not that “big of a deal,” but still, I can’t help but wonder what other people think. It’s a downside to my chronic anxiety.
Over time, I have grown accustomed to gift-giving in hopes that my words and thoughts, though they seem scattered, can be hidden by the smooth and tidy stitches of my projects. I’ve spent many days crocheting, often allowing it to consume me. It’s the first thing I tend to give — a piece of myself in each project in the form of hours I will never get back.
When I was just a beginner, I would lie about how long each project would take me — pass it off as an hour or two when in reality I had spent my entire night on it. I would be up till 1 a.m. trying to just finish “one more row,” and that row would turn into two. Ultimately, I would wake up the next morning feeling exhausted, gift ready in hand and another white lie on my lips that it wasn’t “that hard” (knowing full well that just the night before I had lost my mind after having to recount for the hundredth time).
Please do not mistake my words as complaints. I know I chose to make the gift. I know that nobody is forcing me to do this. I know that 90% of the time my efforts will never be reciprocated.
But people who enjoy making handmade crafts will probably get it. You fully know that nine times out of ten your efforts will never be matched, but you don’t want to fall into that nine out of ten for someone else. It’s not a competition, trust me, I just hate to have someone believe that I don’t think about them.
I’ve slowly come to the realization that a handmade card is worth more than a gift basket full of candy (despite my wildly large sour tooth) and other trinkets. So, I can’t help but think there are other people out there who feel the same.
I remember the first time that I was actually paid for one of these pieces. A thought so foreign to me at the time — especially after the countless gifts I had given, ranging from crochet bats, penguins, flowers and more. Honestly I didn’t even know how to price something I had made. I had originally opted to just tell them it was “on the house” and not to worry about it (an option that was ultimately rejected by them).
I spent over a week just trying to find a price that was reasonable for the amount of “effort” I would use. That in itself was hard to measure, as “effort” has never and will never be a concrete measurement.
My effort is shown in even the smallest things, down to the color of yarn I buy. For example, I have hundreds of skeins, but even then, if I don’t like the shade for the project, there’s no doubt in my mind that I won’t go buy a new one.
By the end of the week, I had learned that “effort” was too big a variable for me to calculate. So of course, I went to the next best thing, the time it took. There I ran into another challenge. What would the rate be for my time? Was it too much? After all, I crocheted gifts for my siblings’ friends all the time. What made this different?
I ultimately gave up on calculating soon after, letting them just pay whatever they felt was okay. But this memory stays present in a lot of what I do now. As I measure my own worth with the idea of gift giving, the thought of expecting “too much” haunts me — so instead I expect nothing.
I’ve grown so used to just handing things out, and I don’t know if I’ll ever change that part of myself, but that’s okay. This year, I’m working on not overworking myself, not saying yes to everything that comes my way and working within my constraints. So take this as a simple gift — I hope you enjoy this one.
From me to you,
Sura Lin
