As a child, I dreamed of becoming a doctor—it was my entire identity. Years of hard work paid off when I became an ophthalmologist. I took that responsibility seriously—never rushing, never careless.
Then, in 2024, life took an unexpected turn. An accident—sudden, senseless—left my hand badly injured. I threw myself into rehabilitation, clinging to the hope that I could return to surgery. But after months of therapy, the truth settled in: I would never hold a scalpel again.
For weeks, maybe months, I replayed the accident over and over. What if I had stayed home that day? What if I had taken a different road?
But I knew that I shouldn't be trapped in agony—something in me refused to stay broken.
Then I began searching online, almost aimlessly, for something—anything—that could bring me a sense of direction again. That’s when I came across tufting. The vibrant colors, the tactile satisfaction, the rhythm of yarn turning into form—it all sparked something in me. But then doubt crept in: Could my hand handle the strain of a tufting gun? Was this yet another dream I’d have to abandon? I hesitated.
Then I saw a comment from someone who had a hand injury like mine. She wrote, “I tuft for healing, not perfection.” That one sentence broke something open in me. If she could do it—why not me?
That’s how I discovered the Clawlab.
I spent days researching. I compared kits, read every review, watched tutorial after tutorial. In the end, Clawlab’s thoughtful design and clear guidance won me over. It wasn’t just a product; it felt like a promise—that even beginners, even the broken, had a place in this craft. When i read this sentence on their website: "At ClawLab, we believe everyone should have the opportunity to express their emotions through creativity." At that moment, I knew the Clawlab was the right choice for me.
The first time I picked up the Clawlab tufting gun, I was nervous. My hands trembled—not just from physical strain, but from fear. But it was lighter than I had expected. As I guided the gun through the fabric, loop by loop, a strange calm took over. I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time: control. Not over everything, but over this one small moment. With every piece I create, I feel more energized. It's like each tuft helps eliminate my negative emotions.
In my past life, I used a scalpel to help others. Now, I use a tufting gun to heal myself. The tools are different, but the intention is the same: to create something meaningful.
Recently, I moved away from the city—a place filled with memories both beautiful and painful. I now live in a quiet coastal hamlet where the sea meets the sky with no sharp edges. The air smells like salt and fresh starts.
Just yesterday, I finished my first rug here using the Clawlab kits. The sun was setting, casting long golden shadows across my workspace. Outside, the waves whispered against the shore. Inside, I knotted the final strand. I stepped back and looked at the piece—not just a rug, but a symbol.
This is more than art. This is my comeback. This rug marks the beginning of my new life.
A quieter one, perhaps. But no less meaningful. I may no longer be a surgeon, but I am still a maker. Still someone who cares. And I’ve found a new way to stitch my story together—one loop at a time.
