When I first began playing poker, I didn’t intuitively link my skills as a cross-stitcher to how I showed up at the table. But I soon realized my needlework hobby has helped me keep my cool after making visible mistakes on the felt. 

Cross-stitching is a popular form of embroidery I took up in 2018 as a way to keep my hands and mind occupied after a painful breakup. I needed something to focus on that would allow me to enter into a meditative state. Traditional crafts are having a revival with posts on TikTok for #needlepoint up over 400% this year alone as events for stitching pop up in major cities around the country. 

This hobby involves an exacting, painstakingly slow process of impaling Aida cloth in precise X-shapes using multi-colored threads called floss. An accompanying pattern guides me to a grid of various shapes that match with each color I need to use. Counting the boxes is critical to orient to the larger pattern. Then, after sometimes thousands of hours of work, a gorgeous scene comes into view.

But, because this kind of work requires such attention to detail, mistakes are practically inevitable. Every fellow stitcher I know has described the familiar pain and frustration of realizing a big mistake on the canvas, taking scissors to the back of the project and unraveling whole sections of work. And, it's typically a process of rewinding dozens of hours of effort as one miscounted thread will likely ruin every subsequently counted square until you notice the mistake. 

I had just faced such a problem and called my friend who taught me how to stitch, “The trees on my winter scene are suddenly all askew and I realized I messed up days ago! This is so frustrating!” I instantly wanted to quit. My friend calmly reminded me that unraveling is simply part of the process and not to throw away the whole project because of one mistake. I shook my wrists and walked around my house, calming myself down. Then, eventually, I began again.

A few days later I was with my boyfriend at an aggressive poker table. We typically found friendly games, but these players were quickly shoving their chips to the center, re-raising, and generally playing big. I bet the full pot on the turn — the fourth shared card — when a third spade hit the board, leaving my King-Jack of spades just one card short of a flush, five cards of the same suit. My boyfriend folded, then another opponent raised enough to put me all in, meaning I’d have to bet every chip I had left just to stay in the hand. Without thinking about it long enough, I pushed my chips to the center. As soon as I did, I knew I should’ve considered my odds of catching one more spade on the river, the fifth and final shared card, especially against an opponent who’d been playing strong hands all night.

Ultimately my flush draw didn’t matter; he had Ace-Three of spades, meaning even if another space landed, his ace-high flush would beat mine. I still had a chance if a King or a Jack appeared, pairing one of my cards, but neither came. I chased a flush I couldn’t win. I exhaled and sank into my chair. Annoyed with myself for making the hot-headed play, it felt like a huge, visible mistake.

As I walked to get more chips, I instantly thought about my error a few days prior on my cross-stitch project. My missed flush draw felt like the same disaster I had just experienced with the single miscounted stitch that undid hours of painstaking needlework. 

As I reclaimed my seat at the table, I experienced a moment of clarity: I simply needed to flex the same muscle I had with my needlework. In either scenario, I knew the move: unwind the mistake, refocus, and keep going. The smartest play was to treat this one mistake as contained, not something that would take the rest of my session (or night) down with it. 

I was able to use a poker table and an embroidery hoop to practice regaining my confidence and composure. The next time I think I’ve screwed something up, I’ll ask myself: What did this mistake actually cost me, and what am I about to let it cost me? I can still control my future behavior and stay on my game, error or not.

Today, a dropped stitch has gone from a ruined pattern to the moment that deals me back in.