Some people have a hard time admitting they are
wrong, or have made mistakes. I don’t
have that affliction. In fact, my
tendency is in the opposite direction – I tend to blame myself for every
problem that occurs in my life – boots don’t fit me? There’s something wrong with my foot. Something isn’t working – I’m probably using
it wrong. After an argument, I’m pretty
much always the first to apologize, and usually I assume the brunt of the blame
for starting it too.
Now-some things really are my fault, so it’s a
good thing, I think, that I can own up to it.
On the other hand, sometimes I end up blaming myself and feeling like a
loser or (this is the worst) feeling guilty when it’s really not me causing the
problem, and there is the rub, as they say.
I will blindly continue trying to use something or do something a
certain way (as the instructions or whoever tells me to do it) and it turns out
I’m not doing it wrong at all – I’m just suffering from faulty instructions!
Take for example a
recent revelation I had with the machine I use for quilting. I inherited this machine from my excellent
mother, who taught me how to use it and happily shared it with me when she was
still on the planet. Now I’m in my tenth
year of quilting, and I’ve probably made at least fifty or more pieces, ranging
from queen-sized bed covers to twenty-four by twenty four wall hangings. I’ve done the majority of my quilting work on
the old Brother, and I’ve always felt like I must be really uncoordinated,
because I’ve never felt like I mastered the rhythm of the machine. I secretly (or maybe not so secretly) have
dreaded the quilting stage of a project because I feel like I’m really weak at
it. I’ve struggled to improve for ten
years, and really have felt badly and even been sometimes even unsatisfied with
some of my pieces because I thought I just couldn’t master the skill and the
piece didn’t turn out exactly the way I wanted it to. Not to mention my ripper and I are on
frightening intimate terms, if you know what I mean. It may soon become a sixth
finger for me.
Turns out it’s not really me that is the problem
at all – it’s the machine! I discovered
this when I decided to use my Bernina to quilt a small piece I was working
on. I figured it was small enough not to
want to have to change machines, so I put on the free motion foot and practiced
for a few minutes. I couldn’t believe
the control I had with it! That piece was literally FUN to quilt! That’s the first time I have enjoyed that
step of the creation process so far, really.
I just felt so in control – amazing!
The reason it is so much more fun, I believe, is because I didn’t have
to worry so much about the length of the stitches or how fast I was going –
turns out this machine has a stitch regulator, and that, my friends, makes all
the difference in the world!
Anyway, I learned something about myself, too - I’m
afraid it’s an ego thing – whereas some people absolutely have to be right, I
always believe I’m defective. I hold
myself to this high standard that I would never impose on anyone else – never! But I don’t need to delve into the psychology
of it, it doesn’t really matter – just making the connection – well, it may
sound nuts, but ever since I made this realization, I’ve been able to stop
myself from listening to that inner mean voice that always tells me I’m wrong
and analyze the situation BEFORE I blame myself - that’s a good thing!
Another good thing has come out of this situation,
too. When I told my husband the story of
me and my machine and my great realization, he rubbed my back and said, “See
you’re too hard on yourself – it’s not that you can’t do it, it’s just the
machine.” I cuddled up next to him and said, “You know,
honey, you’re right – I need to not always assume that I’m the problem. That machine I’ve been using just isn’t that
great. In fact, it stinks….that’s why I
might need to get a new machine. What do
you think?”
Hey, maybe I do blame myself too often, but I ain’t
STUPID!
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