On the 20th of August 2025, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. My world turned upside down — for myself, my family, and my work. In early September, just two weeks after my appointment with the oncologist, I started chemotherapy.
People often use words like “fighting” or “warrior” when talking about cancer. For me, it was never about fighting cancer, but about healing from it. I am convinced my cancer was a signal from my body — a call for help that I finally learned to listen to.
Since that day, I have embarked on a journey to heal my body, mind, and spirit.
As I am writing these words, I have gone through chemotherapy, a mastectomy, and radiation. This week, I started Letrozole (an aromatase inhibitor). I am in medical menopause and navigating the side effects of the treatments from the past nine months, as well as the new ones I am now adjusting to.
Chemotherapy was the toughest part of this journey. During that time, macramé became a constant presence in my life. Only now, looking back, I can truly see how essential it was in helping me get through one of the most difficult periods of my life.
When I was going through chemotherapy, I needed something to hold me steady when everything else felt uncertain. I didn’t want anything complicated or demanding — I needed something gentle, repetitive, and grounding. That’s where simple macramé came in.
I didn’t have the energy for anything complex. My focus was limited, my body was exhausted, and my emotions were unpredictable. But macramé asked very little of me. Just a few knots at a time. One step, then the next.
The repetition was soothing. Over and over again, my hands would tie the same simple knots, and something in my mind would begin to settle. It gave me a rhythm to hold onto when everything else felt uncertain.
There were days when I could only manage a few minutes, and other days when I would sit for longer stretches during treatment or recovery. Either way, it helped me stay present without pressure.
What surprised me most was how much meaning it started to carry. The pieces I made weren’t just ways to pass time — they became a way of processing what I was going through.
I often gifted my macramé pieces to the nurses caring for me during chemotherapy. It felt like a small but meaningful exchange. They were taking care of me in some of my hardest moments, and this was my way of offering something back — something made slowly, with care and gratitude.
Looking back now, I can see that macramé didn’t just distract me from cancer treatment. It helped me move through it. One knot at a time, it gave me something steady to return to when everything else felt uncertain.
My Macramé Community and Purpose
My macramé community played a huge role in my healing process. From the moment I shared my diagnosis, I was met with an overwhelming amount of love and support. It wasn’t just kind messages or comments — it felt like being held by a community of people who genuinely cared.
What touched me most was how deeply that love came back to me. It felt as though all the energy, support, and care I had poured into my macramé communities over the years was suddenly being returned to me tenfold. I never expected it, and in many ways, it became part of my healing.
That support mattered more than I can fully explain. On the difficult days, it reminded me that I was still connected to something creative, meaningful, and alive outside of illness. Staying connected to my macramé community gave me purpose at a time when life had become consumed by appointments, treatments, scans, and recovery.
Their encouragement, healing energy, and positive vibes helped me continue creating, even when my energy was low, and I no longer felt like myself.
The little energy and creativity I had were poured mostly into Your Macramé Community. Surprisingly, having to channel my focus into one place helped me slow down and become more intentional. I created projects I was truly proud of, and although I was running my business at a much slower pace, it gave me structure, accountability, and purpose during one of the hardest periods of my life.
Journaling, Macramé, and Emotional Processing
Journaling became another important part of my healing journey. It is something I have practised almost daily, and together with macramé, it helped me process emotions I didn’t always have words for.
Writing helped me name what I was feeling. Macramé helped me sit with those feelings quietly, without needing to solve or fix everything.
The rhythm of crafting became a form of mindfulness. Knot after knot, I became more aware of my thoughts, my body, and my emotions. Not with judgment — simply with awareness and presence.
During cancer treatment, I was also lucky enough to try Reiki-infused journaling cards by Hooked in Reiki. They became part of my daily routine and supported me deeply throughout my healing journey. Most mornings started slowly: journaling with the cards, followed by gentle movement or exercises, and then macramé — unless I had hospital appointments that day.
Those quiet rituals brought comfort and stability to days that often felt unpredictable.
Rest, Reading, and Audiobooks
Rest became just as important as creating.
There were days when my body simply needed me to stop, and during those moments, audiobooks became an escape. Listening to stories allowed my mind to travel somewhere beyond hospital rooms, side effects, and exhaustion.
It wasn’t avoidance — it was a way to give my nervous system rest.
Those quiet moments helped soften the heaviness of treatment and reminded me that healing also happens through slowing down, resting, and allowing ourselves moments of comfort.
Closing Thoughts
Looking back now, I can clearly see how much these small practices supported me through one of the most difficult chapters of my life.
Macramé wasn’t just a craft — it became grounding, connection, creativity, mindfulness, and care all woven together.
I have always said, “Macramé is yoga for the mind,” but during cancer treatment, it became even more than that. It became a light I could return to whenever I needed comfort, calm, or stability.
Healing didn’t only happen in medical spaces. It also happened in quiet moments with strings in my hands, on the pages of my journal, in stories listened to with closed eyes, and through the love shared by the community.
And that made all the difference.
I have wanted to write this blog for the past three months, but only now do I feel ready to fully express how much macramé helped me heal — physically, emotionally, and spiritually — throughout my cancer journey.
If you are going through cancer treatment, recovering from it, or supporting someone who is, I truly believe that crafting can become a powerful companion during healing. Whether it’s macramé, journaling, or another creative practice, making something slowly with your hands can bring moments of peace during very difficult times.
I truly recommend you check out my book Mindful Macrame, which is more than a macrame book with projects, but a tool to help you unwind, breathe, and create more mindfully.
Finally, if you would like to share your story, ask questions, or need help getting started with macramé during this chapter of your life, please feel free to reach out or check out “Macrame for Beginners Page” here.
With love,
Isabella
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