Sewing, Seams, and the Science of Offsetting Pain

I’ve been reading lately about how our bodies repair themselves when given the right conditions. The research is fascinating: when we support the production of antioxidants, for instance, we help neutralize free radicals—those unstable molecules that cause damage over time. The more I sat with that, the more it reminded me of something else I’ve been learning lately—not about the body exactly, but the soul.

At the end of last year, I finally started learning how to sew. Not just hemming or mending like my Teta taught me, but learning how to construct something from scratch. My first project was transforming a thrifted quilt into matching jackets for my daughter and me. Between toddler naps, school pickups, and sessions, it took a few days to finish. I was so proud once it was done, and you KNOW I love sharing with anyone who asks or compliments the jackets that it was me-made.

Not even a week later, our family experienced a painful and unexpected loss. My nervous system, already stretched thin from witnessing the fear and helplessness of loved ones back home under bombardment, felt completely worn out; and yet, I couldn’t sleep. I kept sewing.

Sometimes until 2 or 3 in the morning.

It wasn’t until I made a mistake halfway through a new project that I understood what was happening. I had sewn the wrong sides together and ruined the top I’d been working on. I wanted to toss it and start over, but a part of me chose differently. I slowly, carefully, seam-ripped every stitch. I inspected what had gone wrong. And in the end, I salvaged it into something else—something not quite what I intended, but still beautiful in its own right.

That moment felt like a metaphor I hadn’t known I was living.

Sewing became a meditative practice. It required full presence—no zoning out, no dissociating—or I’d ruin the fabric. I had to stay with the rhythm of it. It demanded my attention and offered quiet in return. It helped me make sense of things not rationally or with my head, but in my heart and body first.

I’ve been thinking a lot about that word lately: offsetting.

How intentional joy, creation, or even boredom can help us metabolize pain. Not deny it. Not distract from it. Just… balance it by choosing, even quietly, to keep creating alongside, to stitch something steady into the overwhelm.

These days I look at clothes differently. I notice seams, darts, and hems. I inspect bias tape and thread choices even if I don’t fully know how to replicate them—yet. I’m learning. And maybe that’s the whole point. That healing isn’t always about fixing. Sometimes it’s about staying with what’s torn, understanding what went wrong experientially and somatically, and stitching something new out of it.

And I realize my ability to do this is a privilege that not everyone has, but I do hope wherever you find yourself on the spectrum of overwhelm, grief, or just life, you can choose little pockets of intentional joy and presence.

I hope you allow yourself to get lost in something—even if for a few minutes a day—that quietly refuels your heart, soul, body, and mind to better face the world around you.