🌸 Lost in the Loops: When Crojo Goes Missing

Hi Stitchers,

This week, I wanted to write something a little more personal—something that’s been gently tugging at my heart.

Let’s talk about something most crocheters experience but don’t always talk about:
Losing your crojo.

Yep. It happens. And for me, it’s almost seasonal, like every year, my crojo seems to wander off on me like clockwork. Mischievous little thing.

🧶 Wait—What Is Crojo?

Crojo = Crochet + Mojo.

It's the word we crocheters use to describe that special energy, that creative spark that makes us excited to pick up our hooks and lose ourselves in loops and stitches.

Crojo is what makes a simple ball of yarn feel like a world of endless possibility.

It's that moment when your yarn calls to you, and your hands just know what to make.

It’s more than motivation, It’s rhythm. It’s love. It's you, woven into every stitch.

But sometimes—out of nowhere—it’s gone.

Until one day, you realize your hook’s been tucked away way longer than you meant it to be. You scroll. You try to start something. But it all feels… off. Heavy. Uninspired.

That’s where I found myself.

I lost it.

Weeks went by. My yarn sat quietly on my working table. Hooks untouched. A half-finished project beside me. A pattern idea in my notes. But no spark. I’d scroll past crochet photos with a little ache in my chest, like seeing an old friend you miss but don’t know how to reach out to.

I kept telling myself I was “just tired” or “too busy.”

But truthfully?

I was afraid.
Afraid I’d lost my spark. That maybe it wouldn’t come back.

Even thinking about crocheting felt heavy. I wondered, “Is something wrong with me?”

But I didn’t force it. I let it be.

I gave myself space to miss it.
I watched old shows. I read. I rested. I stayed close to my yarn without asking anything from it.

Then one slow morning, the light hit my yarn basket in that quiet way only morning light can...

I reached for a dusty skein of cream color, one I’d bought months ago for something special. I couldn’t remember what it was meant for anymore. But my hands remembered. Almost without thinking, I picked up a hook and started a simple row. No pressure. Just touch.

One stitch. Then another. Then more.

Then…  somewhere between those sleepy stitches, I smiled.

There you are, I thought. There you are.

And just like that, my Crojo came back like a whisper. A thread tugging softly at my heart.

Not loud. Not rushed. Just gently. Like a friend knocking on the door.

 And I followed it, stitch by stitch.

🌷 If You’re There Too…

If you’re reading this and whispering, “That’s me right now,”—I see you.

I want you to know, it’s okay.

It happens to the best of us. Really. Don’t force it. Don’t shame yourself.

It’s okay to pause. It’s okay to rest.
Crojo doesn't vanish forever. It naps, waiting to wake up..

Don’t shame yourself. Don’t force it.
Just be near your yarn.

Touch it.
Let your fingers wander.

🌷 A Gentle Tip for the Journey Back

Still hiding from your hook? I’ve been there, too.

Here’s something that gently helped me:

• Choose a yarn that feels good in your hands. 
• Don’t plan a project. 
• Don’t overthink it. Just feel it.
• Then start the tiniest thing: a square, a circle, even just a chain is fine.

No goals. No perfection. No patterns. Just movement.

Just sit beside your yarn. Hold it. Let your fingers play. A single chain. A little row. A sleepy loop. No rules.

Crochet for comfort, not for perfection.
Let your hands find joy again, without the weight of expectation.

Thanks for sitting with me in this space today.

Crojo always finds its way back, maybe not with fireworks,  and when it does, it feels even more precious.

So take your time.
Trust your rhythm.
Honor the pause.

Your yarn is patient. Your spark is still there.
And when it wakes up... oh, how it shines.

You’ve got this.
I see you. And I believe in you.

With love,
Mai 🌷