Master of None

It’s been nine years since I took my first sewing class. In that time, my skills have progressed very little. I can make throw pillows, book marks, circle skirts, masks, and a few other items. I’ve created and decorated an entire sewing studio in my home. I’ve purchased the finest sewing tools available. And I’m a member of several sewing circles. But, if the truth is to be told, I haven’t invested much time in actually improving my sewing skillset.

One year during my week-long Spring break vacation, I set out to sew a skirt using a pattern. I purchased beautiful fabric and chose a pattern that I thought was an easy sew. I was excited to sew the skirt and could barely wait to wear it. I cut my pattern pieces out and laid each on the fabric. Then, I cut the fabric perfectly. I was successful in sewing 3 or 4 pieces together. But once I got to step 6 on the directions, I became totally confused. I read and reread the instructions but was stumped. The unsewn pieces of fabric laid on the floor of my sewing studio for days. I finally gave up. Out of frustration, I threw everything in the garbage. When things get tough, I quit.

Much is true for my piano lessons. I’ve wanted to learn an instrument for years. Finally, I embarked upon piano lessons a few months ago. I was initially excited. I practiced daily and loved learning new things. About a month ago, I noticed that the music was getting increasingly difficult to read and my fingers couldn’t move fast enough to hit the right notes. Along with that, my carpal tunnel and arthritis pained me when I tried to play. At this point, I haven’t practiced in weeks and I go to my lessons totally unprepared. When things get tough, I quit.

This isn’t only true for sewing and piano lessons. It holds true with everything in life. When I was in grad school getting my second Master’s degree, I vividly remember the moment I stopped trying. My professor was quite demanding (which professors should be) and I couldn’t keep up with her expectations. Her class was confusing and my professor was a proponent of collaborative group work. Having social performance anxiety didn’t help me in the least. So, I began doing the bare minimum…just like sewing….just like playing the piano.

Years ago, I hired a personal trainer by the name of Prince. He stood about 5’2″ and was a solid brick of muscle. Prince was no nonsense and fierce. Intimidated by the challenge of difficult exercises, I was senseless and playful. I stopped trying to actually complete the workouts. Again, I began doing the bare minimum. When things get tough, I quit.

During my second pregnancy, because my first labor and delivery was so very difficult, I decided that I would NOT be pushing this baby out. In my mind I had settled on a Cererian section. When it was time to labor, I literally pretended to push. It sounds ridiculous now, but that is exactly what I did. I laid on the delivery room table, scrunched my face, bore my chin in my chest and made sounds like I was struggling to push. I’m positive the nurses and mid wife thought me to be silly. But it worked. I delivered an 8 pound 8 ounce baby boy by C-Section a few hours later. Again, when things get tough, I quit.

It seems that as someone who’s lived 47 years would have shaken off old, unproductive habits and become a better version of themselves. Welp! Not me. I’ve been doing the same thing for so long I don’t even know how to change. This “I quit” behavior has certainly stunted my growth. I’m not even sure how to come out of it and move on. Also, I’m having a hard time figuring out how to end this blog post. So, I’ll just quit writing.

“A jack of all trades is a master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one.”