Sacrifice is a frame of mind.

I have projects I want to make, both to keep and to grind to my next level in sewing. I have fabric to use for these projects. I have time right now to make them. The fabric sits there, waiting for my hands to begin. Fear stops me.

Telling myself it’s a stupid fear doesn’t seem to get me moving. I have motivation, desire and plans. It’s an old fear from my childhood I have never been able to excise, only psyche myself to the desired goal.

It’s the fear that I won’t have the perfect item at the perfect moment. It’s the fear of not being able to change my mind and make something better than the item I committed to by using a one-use item. I used to get 2-3 of something so I would be able to reuse it. I glued or taped stickers, with the back still on them, so I could peel and use them later when the perfect spot came along.

I nod sagely when someone verbally regrets not having something perfect because they used it for something else.

It took a long time to get angry enough to slash my way through the fear, cut mental muscles and nerves to growl my way to the desired result. That is how I deal with it for the most part.

That isn’t working today. I’m not even talking about sentimental fabric, just really pretty stuff. I can’t take it back.

I got around it by using less pretty fabric for things, but don’t like that the fear has power over me. I take less scary paths instead of being able to get rid of it.

I know I can get myself to make these projects by seeing the fabric as sacrifices to my future amazingness as a sewist, but that’s still psyching myself. I understand sacrifice, especially when physically painful. I just hate that I have to psyche myself instead of achieving a fear purge.

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