Letting the Colorway Unfold: Learning to Slow Down at 50

I have always had a bit of a go big or go home personality.

When I have an idea, I rarely picture the small version. I see the whole thing. I see the finished project, the next project, the class that could grow from it, the community it could support, and about twelve other ideas that could come after it.

I dream big. I make big plans. I set huge goals.

There is nothing wrong with having big dreams. Some of the most meaningful things in my life began with an idea that felt bigger than me. But I also have a habit of trying to start all of those dreams at the same time. Before long, I have too many projects on my hook, too many promises on my calendar, and too many expectations resting on my shoulders.

Then I become overwhelmed by things I was genuinely excited about.

At 50, I am finally beginning to understand the advantage of slowing my pace down.

Not stopping. Not giving up. Not dreaming smaller.

Just slowing down enough to enjoy what I am building and give it the care it deserves.

I have commitments I signed on for throughout the rest of this year, and I am going to do my best to honor them. I am also going to do my best to pace myself while I do it.

That means you may notice a slower pace from me through the rest of the year.

There may be fewer new things released at once. Some ideas may stay in my notebook a little longer. A project may take more time before I am ready to share it.

It is not because I do not care.

It is actually because I do.

I care about doing more than rushing something out just so I can cross it off a list. I want to give my custom orders the attention they deserve. I want to make my regular business products with intention. I want to show up for the commitments I have already made without constantly feeling as though I am running three steps behind.

I also want to remember that my family deserves more than whatever is left of me after I have poured everything into my work.

And honestly, I deserve a little room to breathe too.

Crochet has a way of quietly repeating the lessons we need until we are finally ready to hear them.

When we rush our stitches, our tension changes. The fabric may pull too tightly, loosen unexpectedly, or begin to lose its shape. We can keep pushing forward, but eventually the unevenness shows.

Life is not so different.

I can force myself to keep producing, planning, teaching, making, posting, and saying yes. But when I hold everything too tightly, the tension eventually shows there too. It shows in exhaustion, frustration, unfinished ideas, and the feeling that I am never doing enough even when I am doing far too much.

Sometimes the answer is not to work faster. Sometimes it is to loosen our grip.

Crochet also teaches us that every stitch needs its own space. Crowd too many stitches into the same place and the work begins to buckle. Try to leave out the spaces the pattern calls for and the finished piece cannot take the shape it was meant to have.

Rest, family time, quiet, and room to think are not empty spaces in my life. They are part of the pattern.

They help everything else take shape.

Anyone who crochets probably has more yarn and project ideas than they could finish in a reasonable amount of time. Having the yarn does not mean every skein must be started today. Loving a pattern does not mean it must immediately become a work in progress.

Some projects can wait patiently in the basket.

That does not make them less exciting or less important. It simply means I am choosing to finish and care for what is already on my hook before adding something else.

I am learning to treat my dreams the same way.

An idea does not disappear because I write it down instead of acting on it immediately. A goal is not abandoned because I give it a more realistic timeline.

Sometimes waiting gives an idea time to become clearer, stronger, and more useful than it would have been if I had rushed it.

And sometimes we need to frog a few rows.

Changing a plan is not failure. Admitting that something is not working is not quitting. Pulling back can be the very thing that saves the project. We return to the place where things became too tight or drifted away from the pattern, and then we begin again with a little more wisdom.

Variegated yarn does not show us its whole story while it is still wrapped in a skein.

We may see the colors and imagine how they will work together, but we cannot fully know where each shade will land. We have to make the stitches. We have to let the colors change when they are ready. We have to give the yarn enough time and space to reveal the pattern it has been carrying all along.

I think this season of my life is a little like that.

For a long time, I have tried to control where every color should go. I have wanted to see the whole finished piece before allowing myself to settle into the row in front of me. I have tried to hurry through one shade to reach the next, worried that slowing down might mean I would never get there.

But now I am ready to let the colorway unfold.

I am ready to trust that a slower pace does not make the finished work less beautiful. It may actually be what allows me to notice the beauty while I am creating it.

With that being said, I am very happy to share that some super fun and exciting things are coming in 2027.

There will be new crochet adventures, opportunities to learn together, creative projects, and a few things that will ask me to step outside of my comfort zone.

The difference is that I already have a slower paced plan in place.

I do not need to launch every idea at once. I do not need to fill every open space. I do not need to prove the size of my dreams by exhausting myself to reach them.

I can build them one row at a time.

I can pause to count my stitches. I can check my tension. I can finish what is already on my hook. I can make adjustments when the pattern of real life calls for them. And I can leave enough space for my family, my customers, my community, and myself to receive the care we each deserve.

The big dreams are still here. So is the excitement. So is the part of me that wants to create, teach, encourage, and see just how far this journey can go.

I am simply learning that I do not have to race through it.

At 50, I am finally ready to slow down, work the row in front of me, and let the colorway of this variegated skein show its beauty.

One stitch, one shade, and one season at a time.