Have you ever tried making those fluffy pom-pom balls with threads ? The ones that actually look cute and deceptively easy? Truth is, I never cared about how they were made, and one random day, my curiosity hijacked me.
I decided: Today’s the day I become a pom-pom pro.
I had no idea what I was getting into. I decided to learn from Youtube, of course.
The first five minutes of Pom-pom making? Disaster.
Threads wasted, wool knots everywhere, my room transformed into a scene straight out of a textile tornado. Fluffy pom-poms? Nowhere in sight. The only thing in sight was a tangled ball of threads.
As I stared at the wooly chaos, frustration bubbled up. But here’s the thing about me, when I set my mind to something, I just can’t let it go. So, I pressed pause on the pom-pom dreams and threw myself into untangling the woolly mess.
And so the adventure of untangling the wool ball began.
Ten minutes in, a little progress.
Thirty minutes—still tangled, but slightly less intimidating.
One hour became two, then three.
My patience wore thin; the threads seemed determined to test me, making an Olympic sport out of tangling.
I considered giving up.
I thought about snipping off the mess, working only with the smooth, simple bits and going ahead with the pom-poms. I battled the urge to toss the whole thing aside and escape. But something, maybe stubbornness, maybe hope, or maybe guilt of not sorting things out , urged me to keep going.
I did that. But the frustration seemed to level up. So I took a break. I walked away, had a cup of chai (because, obviously). I came back, untangled some more.
And then, out of nowhere the wool slipped free. Suddenly, it was smooth, soft, as good as new. And I swear, my heart did a little happy dance. It felt silly, but the adrenaline hit was real. The sense of accomplishment was huge, as if I’d just solved a puzzle only I could see. All it took was 4 hours of efforts, frustration and my adamant heart.
That’s when it hit me: Doesn’t life feel like this tangled thread ball way too often ?
It gets messy, sometimes catastrophically so. And you’re allowed to feel all of it.
You can get frustrated. You can walk off. You can decide to cut the mess out and just work with what’s left. That’s fine.
Or you can stick around a little longer, try to detangle what you can. Let yourself feel every single emotion, from rage to giggles.
There’s no “ideal way” to handle messy stuff. Sometimes chopping off a knot makes sense, sometimes sticking with it does.
And the more I sat with this, the more I realized that how we approach these tangled moments says a lot about us.
Some of us are born stubborn, refusing to let go no matter how tough it gets. The win, when it comes, feels glorious. But sometimes, the cost is just too high.
Some of us fall into that balanced middle ground. We’ll give it a fair shot, and if things don’t work out, we know when to let go. No regrets, just a clear sense of our own boundaries and energy.
And there are those who move on quickly. Maybe they appear to give up fast, but really, they know what they want. If a struggle isn’t worth it, or the mess feels pointless, they bounce to the next good thing. Maybe not ideal every time, but hey—it’s honest, and sometimes just what’s needed.
None of these approaches are wrong. We’re all just detangling threads, emotional and otherwise, in our own way.
So, next time life hands you a tangled wool ball, ask yourself:
- Are you going to struggle through, stubborn for the win?
- Will you balance, try your best, then wisely let go?
- Or are you the going to move on quickly, choosing ease this time?
Whatever you do, remember:
The choice you make is a chapter in your story and your choices don’t make you the wrong or right kind of person. They just make you… YOU.
By the way, not yet a POM POM PRO !