The Story Behind CrochetPark

After my daughter was born, I looked in the mirror and didn't recognize the person looking back — she felt like a stranger wearing my face.

The days blurred. I had a Master's degree from Glasgow, a love of art and literature, a life I had carefully built. And I couldn't get off the sofa. No one talks about the version of new motherhood that feels like disappearing.

It was my mother-in-law who changed everything — without knowing it. She handed me a hook and some yarn, and quietly showed me how to begin.

Stitch by stitch, something shifted. The noise in my mind started to soften. Each completed row felt like a small proof: I can still create. I can still finish something. I am still here.

I fell in love with the rhythm of it. The order. The way chaos becomes pattern becomes something beautiful you can hold in your hands.

Crochet didn't just help me heal. It gave me back a sense of self I thought I had lost.