Marina Jo's Place

“That was the best week I’ve had in a long time,” I told my coworkers after returning from a week off—about two months ago now. But I wasn’t sipping cocktails on a beach. I wasn’t overlooking a breathtaking view after a long hike.

Still, my heart felt just as full as if I had been.

That week, I was actually recovering from surgery (a story for another day), and I decided it was the perfect time to finally try something I’d always wanted to learn: making my own clothes.

Now, I’m not what most people would call a small girl. I stand five feet tall, but my curves are generous—an inheritance from my beautiful West African roots. That combination makes clothes shopping… complicated. Finding pieces that fit well and feel right is a challenge—especially in a culture so obsessed with thinness and uniform sizing.

It just so happened that Joann’s was going out of business at the time. I took it as a sign. I bought a sewing machine, stocked up on fabric, and in between naps and slow walks around the house (doctor’s orders), I taught myself to sew. Dresses, pants, shorts, tops—if I could imagine it, I gave it a go.

And yes—I just did it. I followed PDF patterns from Etsy, watched hours of YouTube tutorials, and muddled through it all. This isn’t a humble brag. Honestly, I still don’t know how I did it. (The pain meds probably played a supporting role.)

What’s wild is that about five years ago, a friend loaned me their machine and I was awful. I broke several needles. I had no clue what a bobbin did. After a frustrating week, I replaced the broken parts, gave the machine back, and declared sewing a “someday” activity.

Turns out, that someday came. And this time, patience, determination, and a whole lot of quiet time were on my side.

So, What Has Sewing Taught Me?

Trust your gut. If something feels off in the middle of a project—if a seam looks wrong or a step feels unclear—pause. Pull out your seam ripper. Undo. Rethink. And most importantly: breathe.

During recovery, I was encouraged to get up and move around throughout the day. Sewing was perfect. I’d print out patterns, tape them together while standing, then sit and slowly work through each instruction until it made sense. It was the exact balance of movement, rest, and focus I needed.

Honestly, I needed that break more than I realized.

2024 tried its best to break me. It took things from my life that I wasn’t ready to lose, and it brought with it more tears than I care to count. But in the wreckage, it also gave me the gift of slowness. It forced me to reevaluate my joy, my creativity, my peace.

And sewing—sweet, surprising sewing—helped me quiet my mind and find steadiness again.

Cheers to granny crafts. To making something with your hands. To starting fresh. And to discovering that sometimes, the best kind of healing happens when you least expect it.