After a while, when I look around my home and I see several unfinished projects, I start to feel guilty - like there’s something inherently wrong with starting things and not finishing them, or not finishing them for months or years. I don’t believe this is actually true. When I am thinking clearly about this, I feel confident that there is no moral valence to starting or finishing projects, but I still feel shame about it nonetheless.

In part, I think it’s a voice in my head that tells me I’m being wasteful, or that it’s wrong to hang onto “too many” supplies. And in some senses, I think this is true - I try to use what I have, I try to be really intentional if I buy something new, but I also know there’s not a lot of use in shaming myself for my sometimes-habit of accruing many Works-in-Progress (WIPs). I know that’s not how I inspire any kind of change or confidence in myself.

I’ve been talking with some friends via text about this lately, and I feel validated that many maker friends feel it, too - both the initial shame reaction, and then the clearer thinking that comes after, the reassurance that it’s actually okay to have multiple unfinished projects at once.

In fact, I’d venture to guess that my projects have sometimes been made better by my tendency to work on many at once. In some cases, I let an object sit half-started for months or years, and in that time, my aesthetic sense matured, or my technical ability progressed. I was able to make something much more “me” or much more useful or long-lasting as a result of my losing interest in it.

I’ve been thinking about it lately because of a sweater project I’ve been working on. One that is entirely finished except the bind off (I even have the whole story about how the sweater came to be drafted and ready to publish - except for the bind off, lol). I haven’t been able to work up the motivation (and courage, honestly!) to finish it because I am trying to learn the 1x1 tubular bind off, and while I have been reassured by more than one friend that it is “very easy!”, the instructionals I’ve read and watched so far have not felt easy to me, and I’ve struggled to get it working. So this sweater has sat, with everything but the bind off, the blocking, and some seaming, for over a month to date.

I have a Workflowy account that I use to keep track of my life - basically bulleted lists with sub-bullets that help me keep track of things like “MEAL PREP” and “CLOSE KNIT” and “MON FEB 8 - SUN FEB 14”. I list the things I need to do there and also things I’d just like to do. The bullet “sweater bind off” has been moved from week to week and project list to project list for literal weeks now, and the act of moving it from list to list finally made me pull it out today. I was standing in the living room over a plate of banana bread, fretting - Josh could tell, so he asked what I wanted to do today. I told him that I wanted to get that damn bind off done, but that I also did not want to do it at all. I felt I had to get it done because I was avoiding it out of fear.

He looked at me and said “why not add things to that list that you want to do? Like taking an aimless walk or watching a show? Your knitting won’t expire, it won’t, like, go bad”. In that moment, advice felt good to heed, so I went for an aimless walk, and let go of the idea that I had to learn that damn bind off today.

Instead, I followed my thoughts on that meandering walk to my sewing machine, and I sat down and made a quilted potholder, which was just the creative-juice-making activity I was really craving.

No doubt, I’ll forget this lesson again soon, and have to re-learn that it’s okay to let things rest (sometimes, it’s good!), but maybe my wonky potholder can serve as a reminder.