Opening

My life today looks dramatically different from the stability I thought I had just six months ago. So much loss and letting go, so much chaos in my personal life and the world at large. Trauma shakes everything loose — but strangely, it also nudges you toward rebuilding in small, steady ways.

And lately, some of that rebuilding has come from returning to the things that once made me feel grounded. Quiet handwork… slow crafts… little repairs that feel like maybe I can put the world back together even if its only one thread at a time.

Mending Matters drifted out of my life for a while, swallowed by everything else I was going through. But recently something happened that provided some clarity about how I need to spend my waking hours. Coming back to Mending Matters wasn’t gentle. It was born more of collapse than of inspiration — and this next chapter begins with a green jacket.

The Return of Toni

My friend “Toni Greenjacket” recently had a problem with her favorite green jacket. She casually mentioned a few weeks ago that she noticed the armpit seam on her favorite green jacket popped again. I blinked, remembering I had repaired one of those armpits two years ago.

It was right before the Christmas season.

Michael and I were couch surfing (still… seemingly forever!).

Toni was traveling home to a reportedly extremely critical mother — the kind who absolutely would comment on “a jacket with a hole in it.”

“Hand it here!” I had said, and I repaired it gratis but with care. She later brought me an AMAZING shower gel as thanks (tea tree + eucalyptus — pure tingle in a bottle!).

When she brought the jacket to me this time, I examined the popped seam, expecting to see my old work pulled apart from heavy use.

Instead… no. This was not my work.

Wrong shade of green thread. . .

Uneven and mixed up stitches. . .

Nothing like the original construction. . .

For a moment I wondered whether I had done it and just overvalued my own work, but later the mystery resolved. This freshly popped seam was the other armpit which someone else had attempted to repair at another time. I applaud them for the effort and always feel patching is the best option when feasible even when it's not perfectly executed.

The outer layer with the old stitching removed

But the armpit I repaired?

Still perfect.

Confidence restored.

Mystery solved.

Time to fix the busted open armpit properly.

First step: Remove the previous bad repair to make a clean slate.

Accessing the Popped Seam in a Lined Jacket

When a seam pops on the outer fabric of a lined jacket, you can’t reach it from outside — it’s hidden between layers.

So you do what tailors do: you open the lining on purpose.

I popped a single stitch in the lining in a very strategic spot and widened it gently. Just enough to pinch the damaged section of the outer fabric and pull it through so I could work on it cleanly.

Suddenly the problem area was easy to access:

right sides together
edges aligned
everything lying flat and cooperative

Restoring the Seam (Not Just Closing the Hole)

I double-threaded my needle (armpits work hard) and stitched a strong backstitch along the original seam line.

And from the outside?
It was even clearer why it mattered.

It wasn’t that bad… but it wasn’t right. So I redid the seam using the original sewing line.

When it was finally clean and true, the repair blended in seamlessly.

Closing the Lining: Ladder Stitch Magic

Once the outer seam was restored, I pulled the lining edges together and closed the opening with a ladder stitch — tiny horizontal stitches that disappear when you pull the thread gently.

Perfect for linings. Perfect for endings.

Once the lining was closed, I added a small flourish: a minuscule stitched “M” inside the freshly repaired armpit.

Not hidden — just tiny.

A private bit of whimsy.

A breadcrumb for future Mariah in case another repair is needed someday.

When Toni Put It On

Toni slipped her jacket back on immediately.

No fanfare.

No fuss.

She just smiled and settled into her favorite green jacket — remarking how silly it is to attach to this “old thing from JCPenney” — like it had never been hurt at all.

And something in me settled then as well.

Why This Small Repair Matters

A popped seam looks dramatic, but it's one of the simplest, most satisfying mends once you understand the hidden architecture inside a lined garment.

And for me, this wasn't just fixing fabric.

It was a reminder that:

I can still create strength in small places
my hands remember what they love
I’m allowed to return to my craft
care doesn’t have to be loud to be real.

Mending doesn’t fix life.

But it teaches you how to put something back together slowly, intentionally, often from the inside where no one sees.

Maybe that’s why I’m writing again — stitching myself back together, one small repair at a time.

Coming Soon: A Clean Step-by-Step Tutorial

For those who want the technique without the story, I’ll share a companion guide with photos and simple instructions.

In the meantime, It feels good to be doing this again. To be making things whole — or at least more as they are “meant” to be.

It’s Been a Hot Minute… How a Green Jacket Helped Me Find My Way Back