I was amazed to find that there is no term for “fear of quilting”. Seriously. If you look at the first phobia list that pops up on Google, you’ll quickly find everything from fear of symmetry (Symmetrophobia) to fear of long words ( Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia, it was a cruel, cruel psychiatrist who named this phobia). However, notably missing from this extensive list is what I am now dubbing Quiltingphobia. Not creative enough? How about Quiltomographobia? Yeah, that sounds more scientific.
I need to add here that “Oooh! I LOVE quilts.” Quilts are fun, beautiful, memory-making, and (my personal favorite)… warm.
It’s the making of quilts (quilting) that is the frightening part. I myself have completed 1 and 1/43 quilts.
The first “quilt” was a total disaster. I was armed with good intentions, a pair of scissors, a quilting book, and matching fabric. Sadly, the end result managed to NOT match. In fact, not only did the fabric not match, but the seams didn’t match, and the sizes of the squares didn’t match. Needless to say, my sorrow also had no match. Fortunately, my sweet friend was the gracious recipient of this gift and was good enough to thank me for my offering. But, the wound still hasn’t closed. Even now, years later. *Sniff*
And now.
Two fabulously talented friends of mine started a quilting group recently, as you may recall. Oh boy, I was excited. Oh! I could make something memory-making and *mmmm* warm. Oh! I could learn from people who know. They’ll walk me through it step-by-step. Do not be afraid, Anne… Do not be afraid…
So, I found fabric. I even managed to find the LAST piece of fabric that would coordinate and tie the whole quilt together (thanks Lisa!). I cut the fabric. Not without mishap, but armed with a, uh, cutty thing and a uh, flat mat thing… I did ok.
Then, things took a turn for the worse. After dragging my heels for weeks and weeks, I pulled out the classic sewing machine passed on to me by my mom, discovered I didn’t have thread, and threw in the towel (or the quilt, rather).
The idea of trying to actually sew the squares together and *shudder* make it crooked is just paralyzing. I realize that “practice makes perfect”, but look how cute the fabric is! Look how (mostly) straight I cut the squares! Why mess with success?
Scott may say “Mess with success so we can have another quilt on the bed” or “Mess with success so your quilt squares are no longer strewn about the family room”. But I say… mmm… maybe tomorrow? 
I previously considered myself a gutsy person. I am the type who will point out (discreetly) to a stranger that they have something in their teeth. I am the type who bungee jumps, sky dives, and wrangles wombats. I am the type who will hunt roaches in a shady European motel so Scott can sleep in peace. But today, I am not the type who quilts.
Quiltomagraphobia. It’s really real.
