Sewing used to be a relaxing and rewarding pursuit for me. I bought my own Singer machine when I was 16. I've sewn clothing, pillows, curtains and whatnot. I still have the machine, but it sits upstairs in a small gray room, abandoned and lonely.
Since my cgvh has kicked in, I've been unable to sew at a level that pleases me. Curtains, measured, cut and pinned, are buried in a bag somewhere. I put off small sewing jobs until the pile grows so large I want to weep. It's my fingers. They are no longer nimble, and I have trouble feeling the tips, not a good situation for hand-sewing. It's also my eyes. I can only sew without my PROSE lenses because I'm so nearsighted. This means my eyes are desert-dry and somewhat painful. They feel fine with my eyes closed, but I'm not that good at sewing.
Today I decided to mend a bra and sew hook-eye closures on a skirt whose zipper broke a while ago. It felt like I was under the influence of powerful drugs. Holding a needle, threading it, working with tiny bits of metal. It was frustrating but I did it, without sewing anything to myself.
I hope it holds.