As many of you know, I am an intensely crafty person. I love to make presents and watch something build into a beautiful result. I am handy with a needle (or four, depending on the project), a hammer, a hook, a chop saw, a paper cutter, a brush, a keyboard, and quite a few other instruments. I am not a one-craft type of gal. I’m detail-oriented and color savvy. I am eloquent. I can master new techniques with an ease that consistently surprises myself. I am good at crafting.

But I am also pretty good at destruction.

And do you know what? Destruction feels better.

That’s a secret about myself I don’t gladly share. I hate that destruction feels better to me. I hate that taking a pair of scissors to a pair of pants will give me more pleasure than when I pick up that needle to start a new project. This is something I’ve always struggled with and I don’t suppose that struggle will ever entirely go away. Not a day goes by without me looking at canvases I have prepped, primed, and painted and think how rewarding it would feel to take a blade and cut them apart. And these are some of my favorite works of my own making. Works I like less often do end up ripped or cut apart. The only reason all of my creations (and my hair) don’t end up like this is momentum; it is easier to walk past the art and let it stand than to seek out the destructive tools I would need to adequately and permanently destroy the art.

Recently, I’ve been on a making binge, mostly Christmas and birthday presents. And I’ve made some pretty stunning things, much to my delight. I can’t wait to share them with you (the posts will go on Scrappy Business, the once scrap-booking, now all crafts blog, when the recipients of said gifts have all seen their presents first). Let me tell you: creating is hard. It takes energy and motivation and patience. It’s always a surprise when I finish something because I didn’t destroy it and because I was able to patiently wait through the un-fun and difficult phases and allow myself to make something beautiful.

It’s always a new, intensely gratifying realization when I recognize that I can make beauty. And that it, too, feels good.

I have hope that making beauty will one day feel better than destruction. I have hope that one day it will be a joyful protective instinct that keeps me from destroying my own work, rather than mere momentum. I have hope that creation will come perhaps no easier, but definitely with less doubt and less instinct to quit. I have hope that I will always wonder that something beautiful can come out of any hands, but more confidence that it will come out of mine.

That hope always comes as I make more beauty.

Even though it feels so wonderful to destroy, I’m definitely happier and becoming a better artist and person when I create. So, I will continue to do so. I will continue to hope. I will continue to teach myself that I can make beauty and that I am far more worthy of the products of my creation than I am exemplary of the products of my destruction.

I can make beauty.

And I am beautiful.

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