Trauma → Calm Through Crochet
There are parts of my childhood that still live in my body.
There are parts of my childhood that still live in my body.
Not always in clear memories.
Not always in full images.
But in reactions.
In tension.
In racing thoughts.
In that constant feeling of being on edge.
I grew up surrounded by drugs, alcohol, and criminal activity. My mother tried her best to shield me and my siblings from it. She really did. But when you are surrounded by trouble, trouble doesn’t just disappear because someone tries to block your view. It lingers. It seeps through walls. It shows up in sirens and flashing lights.
I can’t even count on my hands anymore how many times the police showed up to our home for one reason or another. They knew us all too well.
And when you grow up in that kind of environment, you don’t just grow up.
You survive.
Living in Survival Mode
When chaos is normal, your nervous system doesn’t know how to rest.
You become hyper-aware.
You listen for changes in tone.
You read the room constantly.
You anticipate conflict before it happens.
As a child, you don’t realize what that does to you long-term. You just adapt.
But as an adult?
You start to see it.
For me, it showed up as anxiety. Sometimes depression. Racing thoughts that wouldn’t slow down. That constant hum of survival mode in the background of my life.
Even when things were calm… my body wasn’t.
Even when I was safe… my mind wasn’t convinced.
Trauma does that. It wires your system to expect danger.
And breaking out of that wiring is not easy.
Learning Crochet Before I Understood It
I first learned to crochet when I was young.
At the time, I had no idea what I was doing. Building a foundation chain didn’t feel like building a foundation. It felt like creating a mess. A tangled string of knots. Wasting yarn.
In my opinion back then? It was horrible.
I would sit there fumbling with the hook, pulling loops too tight, losing stitches, getting frustrated. YouTube tutorials weren’t what they are today — it had barely started. So I watched my grandmother.
I practiced.
I tried.
I failed.
I tried again.
Eventually, I gave up.
Life got louder. Busier. Harder. And crochet faded into the background.
I didn’t pick it back up again until adulthood.
Motherhood: A Different Kind of Storm
By the time I picked crochet back up, I was already a mother.
And motherhood is beautiful — but it’s also overwhelming.
Sick kids.
Constant messes.
Bedtime routines.
Bath time routines.
Dinner time routines.
School schedules.
Questions.
Needs.
Noise.
Routines, routines, routines.
And when you already live with anxiety from childhood trauma, the nonstop nature of motherhood can amplify it. There is always something that needs you. Always someone calling your name.
I love my children deeply. I love my family deeply.
But I needed something that was mine.
Something steady.
Something quiet.
Something grounding.
That’s when crochet came back into my life.
The First Time I Felt It
When I started crocheting again as an adult, something shifted.
At first, it wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t some huge breakthrough moment.
It was subtle.
I sat down with yarn. I started stitching. And for the first time in a long time, my thoughts slowed down.
Not completely.
But enough.
My breathing softened.
My shoulders dropped.
My body — that had been bracing for impact for years — relaxed just a little.
And that “little” mattered.
Trauma Doesn’t Just Disappear
I want to be honest about something.
Not a day goes by that I don’t think about the trauma my life has caused me. Trauma isn’t something you flip off like a switch. It doesn’t evaporate because you want it to.
There are still days when anxiety creeps in.
There are still moments when my mind replays old memories.
There are still waves of sadness that hit unexpectedly.
There is nothing to be ashamed of in that.
Healing is not linear.
But here’s what changed:
When I crochet, that trauma fades into the background.
It doesn’t control the room anymore.
Crochet as Meditation
When I sit down with my hook and yarn, it feels like meditation.
Not the kind where you sit in silence trying to empty your mind — because let’s be real, that can be hard when you have trauma living in your body.
But a moving meditation.
Stitch after stitch.
Loop after loop.
Row after row.
The repetition calms my nervous system.
I focus on my breathing.
I focus on my hands.
I focus on the texture of the yarn sliding through my fingers.
For 30 minutes, I can be in my own space.
Free from chaos.
Free from noise.
Free from survival mode.
And that 30 minutes? It changes the tone of my entire day.
Calm in the Storm
Crochet became my calm in the storm.
Not because it erased my past.
But because it gave me a tool.
A healthy outlet.
A grounding practice.
A reset button.
Day after day, as I crocheted consistently, I noticed something remarkable.
I became calmer overall.
It didn’t happen overnight.
It wasn’t instant.
But it was steady.
The more I gave myself permission to take that time, the more regulated my body became.
The more I created, the more I felt in control.
Reclaiming Control Through Creation
Trauma takes control away from you.
It makes you feel small. Helpless. Powerless.
Crochet gives control back.
You decide the yarn.
You decide the color.
You decide the pattern.
You decide when to stop.
You decide when to start again.
You create something from nothing.
And when you finish a project — even something simple — it’s a reminder:
I can build.
I can follow through.
I can complete something.
That sense of control is deeply healing when you’ve grown up in chaos.
Breaking the Traumatic Mindset
Every completed project feels symbolic to me.
It feels like I am slowly breaking away from that traumatic mindset.
The mindset that says:
“You’re stuck.”
“You’re broken.”
“You’ll always be this way.”
With every stitch, I am rewriting that narrative.
I may have been a victim of trauma.
But that trauma does not define me.
I define me.
I am strong.
I am creative.
I am capable.
I am proud.
I am a mother.
I am a wife.
I am deserving.
I am loved.
And when I create something with my hands, I reinforce those truths.
It Didn’t Start Perfect
I think it’s important to say this too:
Crochet didn’t start beautifully for me.
It started messy.
Knots instead of foundation chains.
Uneven tension.
Frustration.
Mistakes.
But that mirrors healing.
Healing isn’t neat.
It’s not perfectly stitched.
It’s not evenly spaced.
It’s messy.
It’s frustrating.
It requires practice.
And over time, you improve.
Over time, your stitches even out.
Over time, you look back and realize how far you’ve come.
The Power of 30 Minutes
Sometimes all I need is 30 minutes.
Thirty minutes of:
No demands.
No expectations.
No fixing.
No answering.
No cleaning.
Just yarn and breath.
In those moments, I am not the child who grew up around sirens and flashing lights.
I am not the anxious adult replaying memories.
I am not stuck in survival mode.
I am simply creating.
And that is freeing.
Freedom From Chaos
There is something deeply symbolic about turning tangled yarn into something structured and beautiful.
Because that’s what I feel like I’m doing with my life.
Taking tangled memories.
Taking chaotic experiences.
Taking broken pieces.
And slowly, stitch by stitch, creating something steady.
Crochet gives me a sense of order in a world that once felt completely out of control.
It gives me rhythm.
It gives me peace.
It gives me space to breathe.
I Still Have My Days
I won’t pretend crochet “fixed” me.
I still battle anxiety.
I still have depressive days.
I still relive trauma in my mind sometimes.
But the difference now?
I have a tool.
I have something I can reach for when I feel overwhelmed.
Instead of spiraling.
Instead of shutting down.
Instead of staying stuck.
I pick up my hook.
And I begin.
The Calm I Can Always Count On
There are not many things in life that are guaranteed.
But one thing I can always count on — besides my husband (God love him for putting up with me all these years) — is crochet.
It has been steady.
It has been patient.
It has been there waiting whenever I needed it.
And every time I return to it, it welcomes me back.
No judgment.
No pressure.
Just rhythm.
From Trauma to Strength
Growing up in trauma shapes you.
But it doesn’t have to trap you.
I used to think the things I experienced would always define me.
But now I see something different.
They shaped me — yes.
But they also made me resilient.
And crochet helped me see that resilience.
It showed me that I can create beauty even after experiencing darkness.
It showed me that calm can exist after chaos.
It showed me that I am not stuck.
Crochet Is the Calm in My Storm
When life feels overwhelming.
When memories feel heavy.
When anxiety creeps in.
When survival mode tries to take over.
Crochet is my calm.
It is my grounding.
It is my therapy.
It is my release.
It is my meditation.
It is my reminder.
I am not just someone who survived trauma.
I am someone who creates.
And with every stitch, I am choosing calm.
With every completed project, I am choosing growth.
With every moment I take for myself, I am choosing healing.
Crochet is the calm in my storm.
And if you carry trauma too — if you live with anxiety, racing thoughts, or that constant hum of survival mode — maybe you just need a tool.
Maybe you need something steady.
Maybe you need something repetitive.
Maybe you need something that belongs to you.
For me, that tool is crochet.
And through it, I am slowly transforming trauma into calm
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