So much of what I want to do gets held back by insecurity about how GOOD it will be. Reader, this is some bullshit, and I know it. I am slowly accepting that doing something half-assed is better than not doing it at all because it won’t be perfect.
Years ago, my dog chewed a hole in a crocheted pillow. I stuck it in my closet to repair, and would sometimes look at it and despair, unable to throw it away, but also unable to bear trying to fix it because it would never quite be the same. My gauge would be off. Crochet isn’t like knitting where you can deconstruct it in the middle; it’s a bunch of knots. I didn’t have the yarn anymore (it was just Sugar n Creme cotton). I couldn’t find the pattern. Finally, I sat down with three balls of yarn (but not the same dye lot) and said “fuck it, I’m fixing it or trashing it.”
I carefully ripped out the compromised parts, read the stitches kinda-sorta, and patched the thing. The colors are slightly mismatched bc dye lot. My gauge is off, should have used a smaller hook. The new part LOOKS new, not as worn as the other areas.
But it’s done. It’s not in my closet. It’s useful again. And perfection is not so desirable that functionality should be lost forever.
Let’s see if I can chase that.