Sew Therapy Quotes

I’d heard that in some of the newer mental wards they set the mad and congenitally stupid to rote tasks, having them sew buttons onto mounds of fabric, the futile labor working as a salve to their broken minds. I wonder sometimes whether the guard is not an extension of this therapy on a far grander scale, an elaborate social program meant to give the low functioning an illusion of purpose.

Good therapy is as challenging as it is beautiful. Day in and day out, we unpack pain and process fear and sew together the broken pieces of souls, hearts, and trust. We battle with defense mechanisms. We hold tears and fears and everything in between.

Finland compared the surgery with “sham surgery”—that is, surgeons took patients with knee pain and a torn meniscus to operating rooms, made incisions, faked surgeries, and sewed them back up and sent them to physical therapy—they found that sham surgery worked just as well. Most people with a torn meniscus, it turns out, don’t have any symptoms

To create your own poppet, you’ll need: 2 large pieces of fabric or felt Scissors A needle and thread Cotton balls and/or dried lavender or rose herbs A few strands of your hair Rose quartz (optional) 1. To create the poppet, take the pieces of fabric/felt and lay them on top of one another. Cut out the shape of the doll you want to make, then sew the sides and top together. 2. Use the opening at the bottom to stuff the doll with the cotton or herbs and your hair (or other small item that symbolizes “you”). Add rose quartz if desired to symbolize high-vibe self-love. 3. Sew the bottom shut. 4. Hold the poppet in your hand and affirm that it is an extension of you. Imagine your energy radiating out from your heart into your arms, through your hands, and into the doll. Allow yourself to feel the emotions as they come, making sure to ground yourself afterward to rebalance. 5. Sleep with the poppet under your pillow for at least one night to solidify the bond. 6. Once you have bonded with your poppet, place it somewhere that is readily accessible to you. Treat it like an extension of yourself, taking care to speak to it kindly and hold it gently, giving it the respect and love that you would want from another to support you in healing. This poppet can be taken out during emotional moments, shadow work, or just when you want a visual cue to remind you that you’re a person too! The ultimate purpose is to create a proxy by which you can hold space for yourself and your healing.

When I die I hope that there will be laughter. I hope that champagne will be served. I hope that people wear red. And I hope when people speak of me that this is what they will say: She hugged too hard. She laughed too loud. She felt too much. She swore too much. She talked too much. She wore heels that were too tall. She wore skirts that were too short. She had too many tattoos. She made too many inappropriate jokes. She asked too many questions. She drank too much caffeine. She drank too much wine. She made peace with being too much for too many. She was overdressed. She was never early. She couldn’t sing but that never stopped her. She couldn’t sew. She couldn’t bake. She couldn’t be contained. She never had a shortage of people in her kitchen. She made her own traditions. She stopped using her voice for apologies unearned. She loved with reckless abandon. She tried to see the whole world. She tried to save the corners that she could. She tried to give her children deep roots and wide wings. She fell. She rose. She danced. She unraveled. She let go. She evolved. She carried herself as though she was made of feathers. She never smoothed her wild edges. She never stopped writing new chapters. She never stopped chasing the light. She was a tangled mess. She was strong. She was fierce. She was brave. She was a badass. She dreamed out loud. Her friends were her soulmates. The ocean was her therapy. Grace was her religion. Imperfection was her backbone. Forgiveness was her freedom. She lived like there was magic enveloped in the every day. She lived like there would never be enough time. She lived like there was fire in her veins. She lived.

Hunter was adding another log to the fireplace in the living room. Lucy handed her a small package. “I made you guys something.” Hunter pulled off the wrapping to reveal a small vampire Santa felt doll, complete with red hat and fangs. She shook her head, laughing. “You’re the one who keeps sneaking these into the Christmas garlands at the academy. I should have known.” “You really should have,” Lucy agreed. “She made the delinquents help her sew,” Nicholas pointed out fondly. “Art therapy,” she maintained.