There’s a shift happening in my sewing life right now.
Not a loud one.
Just a quiet, steady pull back toward something I didn’t realize I had drifted away from.
And it started with the Cosy Cottage Tote Bag.
Over the past three years of building Thunderbird HandCrafted, things have grown quickly.
What started as a love for fabric and color has become something much bigger. Monthly dyed fabric drops, long summer dye seasons planned months in advance, collaborations with incredibly talented women artists across the globe, and the daily rhythm of running a small business where, more often than not, I am the one keeping the kettle burning.
It’s beautiful. And in many ways, an unknown dream come true.
It’s something I’m deeply proud of.
But somewhere in the middle of all of that…
I stopped sewing the way I used to love to sew.
At the end of 2022, I found the online bag-making world almost by accident.
I had purchased an industrial Sailrite Fabricator to repair two large canvas tents. That was the plan. Just a tent repair.
But after they were finished, I remember looking at the machine and thinking, now what?
YouTube, as it does, led me down a path I wasn’t expecting. I found women sharing their projects, their processes, their joy. Suddenly, bag making wasn’t just a skill I could do from my background in ethical fashion… it became something I wanted to do.
My first bag was the H2O2GO from Linds Handmade. It hooked me instantly.
Creators like Jess from Oklaroots kept that spark going.
And slowly, I found a new online community.
Sewing has always evolved alongside my life.
From the first home decor to make life feel brighter in a tiny trailer…
to princess dresses for my daughter when she was little to prom dresses as a teen…
to blackout curtains in our farmhouse and grocery totes for the market…
to garments that finally fit my own body…
It has never been about perfection.
It has always been about the exploration of the craft and what I was becoming.
![]()
So when I started my first Cosy Cottage Tote (pattern from Square Stories Slowmade), using the Thimbelina collection by Jennifer Long, we had just added to our shop, something felt different.
I leaned into fussy cutting. This was a "new-to-me" process I had admired at QuiltCon but hadn’t fully explored myself. I played with the small foundation paper piecing details in the windows and doors.
And somewhere in that slow, deliberate process…
I caught myself smiling.
Not because I was finishing something quickly.
Not because I was thinking about how it would perform online.
But because I was enjoying it.
It hit me in a way I couldn’t ignore:
It had been a long time since sewing a bag made me feel that way.
Bag making, for me, had quietly become structured. Predictable. Efficient.
Cut. Interface. Assemble. Finish.
There’s nothing wrong with that if you're focused on production; it’s a skill, and a beautiful one. But somewhere along the way, I had turned my sewing into something that felt more like output than experience.
More like work than wonder.
By the time I started my second Cosy Cottage Tote, I was deep in dye planning season. This is arguably the most mentally demanding part of my year as a creative business owner.
Spreadsheets. Color mapping. Fabric base planning. Months of future creation packed into a few weeks of decision-making.
It’s a lot.
For someone with hyper-anxiety, it doesn't bode well if I don't have outlets to escape and release all the overthinking and decision paralysis.
That second tote took me over two weeks to finish, not because it was difficult, but because my brain could only visit it in small moments.
And yet… every time I came back to it, it was just the escape I needed. The little fussy cutting details became a release in a way that was fun.
It allowed me to reset. To be ok with leaving it undone and also be ok with not sharing it immediately.
When I got to the final construction, I realized I had cut something wrong.
The ends were too big.
And for a moment, I paused. My old habits were ready to tell me to fix it, redo it, make it “right.” "You can't share it like this..." It won't be up to par with others' work. Nobody seemed to really care about the first one, just give up... All the things.
But instead…
I just kept going.
I adjusted. Improvised. Let it be what it was becoming instead of forcing it into what it was supposed to be.
And that’s when everything clicked.
It wasn’t just the sewing that had started to feel off.
It was the way sewing existed online.
Somewhere along the line, it had begun to feel like there was a standard. That being a presence online, though not as an influencer, as a business owner, there was an expectation of what was “good enough” to share.
And without even realizing it, I had started creating within that box.
I had stopped sharing certain makes.
Stopped experimenting as freely.
Stopped letting sewing be… personal.
And I know I’m not the only one.
How many sewists are sitting on projects they loved making, but don’t share because they don’t feel they are “good enough”? Or up to the standard of one of the "it" influencers to give a like or a share.
And how many are creating just to keep up, instead of creating to feel lit up? Doing their best to feel seen within a sea of "who's who" in the sewing world.
How many are quietly ready for a new season of sewing, but feel stuck in the version of themselves they’ve already shown online? Wondering if their current community will still show up, or if they will need to start over again.
I promise, this isn’t a call-out...
It’s me remembering why I even got here to begin with. Maybe it will be something that helps you or another you share this blog with, remember the joy of their sewing journey too.
I still love bag making. I love this community. Many of you reading this are part of that story for me, and some of you have become real, cherished friendships.
But I'd be denying myself future joy if I didn't share that I also feel a shift.
A return to less of the performance I feel online sewing communities (and probably some in person) make us feel is necessary to be accepted.
A soft but certain pull toward slower processes, more intentional makes, and the parts of sewing that don’t rush to the finish line. Sharing for the sake of sharing, not for the sake of creating.
Sewing the Cosy Cottage Tote reminded me of something I didn’t realize I was missing.
It gave me back the ability to pause.
The reminder to play.
The permission to share for the sake of sharing.
It handed me back the hand in HandCrafted.
If you’ve been feeling a shift too…
You’re allowed to follow it.
You’re allowed to try something new.
To make something imperfect.
To fall in love with a different part of sewing than the one you’re known for.
You’re allowed to create things that don’t perform,
but do make you smile.