Pottery Is How I’m Rebuilding My Relationship with Myself

I didn’t really notice it at first. That slow drifting feeling. The quiet distance growing between who I used to be and the version of me that was just trying to make it through the week. I had good reasons, too. Bills, work, family, stress. That kind of exhaustion that doesn’t just sit in your body—it settles into your sense of self. One day I woke up and realized I hadn’t done anything for myself in what felt like forever. And I didn’t even know who “myself” was anymore.

Enter: clay.

I didn’t expect pottery to change me. I just wanted a night off. A creative outlet. Something where nobody needed anything from me. But there’s something about the way clay makes you slow down. How it doesn’t let you rush through it. How it forces you to be present or it just... falls apart. Pottery became the first place in a long time where I felt like I could breathe. And little by little, I started noticing something: I liked who I was when I was throwing. I liked how focused I felt. I liked how proud I was of the things I made—cracks, wobbles, and all.

It felt like coming home to myself.

And it wasn’t just the clay. It was the ritual. Showing up once a week. Seeing the same faces across the worktable. Feeling like I was part of something that wasn’t built around hustle or stress. Pottery classes gave me a rhythm again. A way to reconnect not just with art or community—but with the quieter parts of me I’d forgotten how to listen to.

One of the best things about clay is that it reflects you back to yourself. If you’re tense, it shows up in the work. If you’re gentle, the piece responds. It doesn’t lie, and it doesn’t rush. It gives you permission to be imperfect, and somehow, that permission spills over into the rest of your life, too.

There are still hard days. But they feel a little less heavy now. Because every week I come back to the wheel. To the table. To the clay. And with every piece I shape, I feel like I’m reshaping something in me, too.

If you’re looking for a way to reconnect with yourself—really reconnect, not just another surface-level distraction—I can’t recommend pottery enough. Not because it’s trendy. Not because it’s productive. But because it might be one of the few things in this world that gives back as much as you put in. And you’re always welcome here.

Conclusion

Pottery didn’t fix me. It didn’t erase the stress or give me a grand epiphany. But it gave me something much more important: a path back to myself. If you need that path too, we’re here. The wheel is waiting. The clay is ready. You don’t have to be anything but you.

Find us at our studio

The Clay Hole is located right off the freeway in Draper, Utah—serving both Salt Lake County and Utah Valley. We’d love to help you find your way back to you.