“Scraps, Trust, and a Little Push”

 

“Scraps, Trust, and a Little Push”

This project made me nervous.
Not because it was too complex—
but because it was real.
It asked me to actually show up for the thing I say I do.
Accessories? This is one.
Leather? I had never worked with it before.
But still—I said yes.

A friend asked if I could turn some leather cutoffs into gauntlets for a Beyoncé concert.
These weren’t scraps lying around—they were intentional pieces from a custom pair of pants.
He didn’t want them to look like leftovers.
He wanted them to look like they belonged.

That was the task:
Take something cut away and turn it into something that holds presence,
That says, “this was always meant to be worn.”

And even though I hesitated a little—because I really wanted it to be right, and I really wanted him to like it—I stayed committed.
He gave me the concept. I sketched out his idea.
I didn’t go wild with liberties, but I did take a few creative ones.
Throughout the process, I made sure he saw everything. Updates, options, ideas. Maybe even too many updates.

At one point, he asked me,

“How do you feel about it?”

And in my head, I almost minimized the question—like my opinion didn’t matter because this was his piece.
But it did matter.
He cared how I felt about it.
He wanted to know if I was connected to what I was making.
And I told him:

“Honestly? I’m proud of it. I like it.”
Because I did.

I think he sensed I was still holding back though, still stuck in my head, still measuring and re-measuring before I allowed myself to commit.
So later, he messaged me with one line:

“Girl, get to it so I can pick my things up.”

And honestly? I laughed.
Normally, I might’ve felt a way, but this time I didn’t.
Because he wasn’t wrong.
It was the exact push I needed — lighthearted, but rooted in full expectation that I would come through. And I did.

This wasn’t just about crafting leather cuffs.
It was about navigating the space between wanting to do it right and needing to just do it.
It was about trusting myself to follow through.
To not let doubt slow me down when creativity calls.

I’m not saying I’m fully back yet.
But this project sparked something.
It reminded me how I feel when I’m in the thick of creating something that matters —
when I’m working with my hands, making decisions, problem-solving with fabric, glue, scissors, and gut instinct.

And now, my son wants a pair too.
So maybe I keep going.

Not to prove anything.
Just to reconnect with the part of me that feels the most like me when I’m in motion.

Author’s Note ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Intentionally, I want to be able to blog about the pieces I put together—not just to show the outcome, but to share what it took to get there. This post may feel simple, but it matters. Because I want to write. I want to create. That’s it. And I have to keep going. I have to keep pushing myself to stay connected to that.

I want to say this clearly:
This isn’t an “I see you” to those still in it.
This is an “I appreciate you” to the ones who’ve already come through the fog.
The artists and creators I’ve seen share their truth, their burnout, their breakthroughs, their transparency—it’s helped. Even if they didn’t know I was watching.
Because sometimes, seeing someone else name what you’ve been feeling gives you just enough clarity to stop hiding from your own process.

I’m also incredibly grateful for the people around me who’ve had patience with me through this.
It often feels like they know something I haven’t figured out yet.
Or maybe... I have figured it out. I just haven’t fully caught up to it yet.
But once I get in it—there I am. Every time.

This entry is one of what I hope will be many.
A way to keep me grounded, to keep me honest, to remind myself that creating and documenting that process is exactly where I feel most like myself.

Thank you for reading.
Thank you for the example.
And thank you for the patience while I walk myself back to the thing I love.