On March 13, 2020, I went to the grocery store without a face covering for the last time. I marked March 14, 2020 as the beginning of “lockdown.” I knew at that time that it would be more than the initial couple of weeks that were planned, but I had no idea that I would still be sitting in my apartment in January of 2021, not having seen anyone in person closer than six feet and without a face covering since mid-March. The only instances of physical contact I’d have with other humans would be in a medical context, clinical and detached, and only for as long as absolutely necessary. As it should be in those contexts, but typically, we have other forms of physical connection with humans in between such appointments. I also never thought that a part of me would still consider myself lucky and privileged that that is largely the extent of my COVID-related hardships.
In the beginning, there was talk about a potential boom in creativity as people had time alone and space to work on their passions. “You know,” you’d hear, “King Lear was written while Shakespeare was in quarantine.” I have not bothered to check if that is true. It doesn’t matter. Flour went extinct for a moment in grocery stores as everyone tried to bake bread. Talk of picking up new “quarantine hobbies” abounded. In late March and through April, especially here in Los Angeles, it felt like we were trying to regard this as a little staycation, instead of a safety measure meant to try to save as many people from a virus that stealthily moved through the populus and suffocated some of its victims till their last breath. The privilege in being able to shelter-in-place at all largely went unexamined by many, including myself.
I decided that I’d join in with the quarantine hobby bandwagon and ordered a cross stitch kit for myself. I’d tried my hand at cross stitch many years prior, but it didn’t stick. I figured, “I’ll give it another shot!” and have my mom give me a refresher course on the basics. My mom has been doing cross stitch for a little longer than I’ve been alive. Her creations have always been featured on the walls of our home. My brothers and I have handmade Christmas stockings with ornate cross stitch needlework decorating the fronts.
On March 17, 2020, my mom and I Skyped for three hours or so as she patiently instructed me on how to find the center of my fabric, put my fabric in the hoop, and anchor my threads. She gave me little hints on how to make the process of planning your stitches a little easier, and ways to make the backside of the stitch less chaotic and more organized. By the end of our session, my progress was: “D.” A whole letter stitched in the 5”x7” design which would ultimately say: “NOT TODAY, SATAN”
Like many “gifted” children of the 90s, I was frustrated by the initial learning curve and wasn’t sure if I’d stick with it. I promised to at least finish that project. In any case, what else was I going to do with my free time?
By the completion of “NOT TODAY, SATAN,” I was hooked. I could feel my blood pressure lower as I spent time focusing on the stitching, methodically working row by row. Ultimately, I finished the project in about ten and a half hours (over multiple sessions). “Not too bad”, my mom told me. I really had no frame of reference for how long cross stitch projects typically take, so I had to take her word for it. I only timed my progress because she mentioned that she was going to start doing so. In her experience, one of the common questions people ask when they see your completed stitches is “How long did it take you to do that?”
I ordered more 5”x7” kits and worked through them quickly. I started getting graph paper and making my own small designs, learning about the different counts of fabric and what kind of pattern might work best in which size. Nothing too elaborate, mind you. I was (and am) still largely a beginner. But I fell into the world of the craft, slowly expanding my knowledge and ability to adapt to new situations. My first pattern that was not color-coded was a huge leap in skill that intimidated me, but I managed to make it through. That stitch now hangs in my office.
“Lockdown” continued, COVID cases continued to climb. People began feeling restless and they started to ignore stay at home orders while still describing themselves as being “in quarantine.” The sociopolitical issues in this country came to many major heads as governmental mismanagement and deliberate cruelty from people in power continued at the cost of American lives. There was a lot that felt out of my control. Probably because much of it was.
Stitching, though. Stitching was in my control. It grounded me. I was able to pause and focus on the method — left, left, left, left, now come back right, right, right, right, new row. Time to switch colors. Where am I going next? Does it make sense for this thread to hop over here? Should I keep going with this color in a different area, or stay here and not move my hoop?
Problem solving, decision making, all of it made real and tangible, and it resulted in small pieces of art that I could feel and see. My anxiety sank into the threads and the fabric and I could fall into the rhythm of stitching. For the first time in my life, I was able to listen to podcasts and actually absorb what was being said. The stitching occupied my mind and hands in just the right way for my brain to be able to piece apart and process the spoken audio.
I was officially diagnosed with ADHD-combined type on October 19, 2020. It made sense to me. Especially in the context of cross stitch and how certain aspects of the craft definitely play nicely with my particular brand of neurodivergence. I will admit that there have been many nights that I slipped into a comforting hyperfocus and accidentally stayed up far, far later than I should have. For the most part, though, the way that stitching soothed my mind produced a net positive.
In addition to improving my emotional self-regulation, it seems that cross stitch afforded me the opportunity to connect with others. My mom was delighted to bond with me over the hobby she had for over 30 years. She still gets excited when I send her update pictures or ask her questions about something new that I’m trying. I’ve been able to learn more about my friends’ families and cultures as they tell me about how cross stitch and other needlework have been present in their lives.
Sometimes, I felt like I could put my stitching to good use. I made a small stitch out of Jeremy Frisch’s quote “Suck my dick and choke on it. I yield my time. Fuck you” from the LAPD community town hall on Zoom from the summer of 2020 and raffled it to raise money for Black-led LGBTQIA+ organizations. People actually responded and entered the raffle. It was a pleasant surprise for me.
Terry Mesnard, of Gayly Dreadful fame, started hosting Netflix Parties online for fellow horror fans. I digitally met a wonderful crew of folks who made Twitter fun for me again. We came up with jokes based on our viewings, such as #MikeFlanaganHatesHands. I was inspired and made up a little pattern depicting our slogan and posted the finished stitch online. I still maintain that having Mike Flanagan jokingly threaten harm to my hands over Twitter in response to my light-hearted stitch is one of the funniest and coolest things to happen to me since the COVID pandemic started. At least… I hope he was joking.
It’s been a long time since I had something creative that I was consistently working on and felt good about sharing. In graduate school, I did some drawings and doodles, but that felt more like expelling nervous hand energy rather than working towards finished pieces. I was very busy with the demands of graduate school, then licensure, and I had not really been able to sit down and immerse myself in creating anything like this. In the time since I started stitching, I’ve been feeling more and more comfortable about posting what I’m working on and sharing my finished products. I’ve made a few gifts for friends, and it feels nice to know that my time spent is going into a unique piece of art that hopefully shows that I’m thinking of them.
I’ve been working on my current piece, a Día de los Muertos calavera, for over 60 hours. It’s the most complex piece I’ve done to date, and my second 8”x10” piece. I keep expecting to be tired of looking at it, but whenever I stop stitching for the day and look back at my work, I can’t help but feel my chest swell with pride. To have this tangible evidence of my time, my catharsis, my work, my rest: that is something that I don’t think I’ve ever felt in any of my other hobbies that I’ve collected over the years.
Sometimes when I’m stitching late at night, deep in the clutches of hyperfocus, I think about how thread-based arts have been done by humans for ages. We figured out how to make cloth and cover ourselves and put it to other uses. And then we said, “Hey, what if we do this… but pretty?” From tapestries to embroidery and finally cross stitch as a specific technique, humans sat down and said, what if I took this practical skill and added artistry? How can I express myself? Over the years, the techniques have evolved as in any other artform. Patterns can be more complex or be minimalistic. You can have a throw pillow that has a traditional cross stitch lettering, but simply says “FUCK.” We add personalizing details, initial the corners of our completed works and put our own spin on designs. I love that since the time that people blew colored dust on their hands to immortalize a handprint in caves millennia ago, we have always figured out a way to take something and make it proof that “Hey, hi. I was here. I made this. It’s real, and I’m real, too.”
In the present, we’re still battling COVID. Government leaders continue to make baffling decisions with regard to managing the pandemic (if they’re even attempting to manage it at all), and fear and frustration are still very much present in our day-to-day concerns. Sociopolitical problems related to racism, ableism, classism, transphobia, homophobia, you-name-it-we’ve-got-it continue to ebb and flow in the national spotlight. The problems themselves are ever-present, but our attention shifts from one to the next as news item after news item enters our feeds. We have a lot of fighting left to do, even with a new president in office. Sometimes when people ask me how I’m doing, I honestly don’t know how to answer. “Hangin’ in there,’’ has been a recent go to. Internally: “…by a thread.”
A lot happened in 2020 that I wish hadn’t. But if we’re going to be met with these tests and barriers, I am thankful that I happened to pick up cross stitch to cope. I’ve surprised myself with how much I’ve connected to the craft, and I hope I continue to do so for as long as it serves me. Hopefully one day I stop thinking about it as my “quarantine hobby,” and it simply becomes a regular hobby. I know that not everyone will relate to cross stitch in the same way that I did, but I hope everyone is able to find their cross stitch equivalent. I hope everyone finds something that allows them to reset while expelling nervous energy. I’m excited to see what I can make in the future, even if everything else in the future is uncertain.
