Blessing through Knitting/Crocheting

You have walked me through the last several blogs in the process of creating these three special afghans going to three (actually four since one is a couple) special people in my life.  You have gone with me through using the left-brain cognitive skills to form the patterns, make the fringe, weave in the threads.  You have seen them in their unfinished state with threads hanging out all over the place.

You have seen them strung up on the clothesline for a photo shoot - which they posed for very nicely.  Even adding some character at times as they flapped in the gentle breeze.

But what you don't know, as Paul Harvey always said, is the "rest of the story".

You know the how and the what.  Also the when.  But you don't know the why or the who.

Why would I spent such a vast amount of time and energy, not to mention money, on not one but three blankets for one family?  Who are they?  What makes them special?

During my sojourn through decades of creating, I've made countless articles for many people in many different circumstances of life:  prayer shawls, baby blankets, chemo hats, doilies ... just to name a few. Some of the patterns have become "special" patterns reserved for only a few.

That sounds discriminatory but extra work is required for these works of art.  They're not just ordinary afghans that you might see for sale in a craft sale.  They're ... well ... to be redundant ... works of art.

In this case, the special person is a relative who has been in remission from a chronic auto-immune disorder for several years.  The special occasion is the adoption of her second child - a boy.  Under the circumstances, a very special cause to rejoice and give thanks.  To pull out the crochet needles and special patterns and start "hooking".

And, of course, it has to be suitable for a boy.  For the first adoption, I did something a bit strange on the strange side - unless you possess a deranged mind like I do. A year or more before there was any nibble on the adoption front, I pulled out my most "special" pattern, one with a puffed heart edge, and my crochet hook.  While creating this blanket, I prayed for the baby it would one day cover.  I prayed for the adoption process.  I prayed as though the child it would cover was already in utero when in reality it had not been conceived.  More than a year later, my niece and her husband held a beautiful little girl in their arms.  The staff at the hospital said that they had never seen an adoption go so smoothly.

Now six, the little girl recently found that blanket and brought it down to her mother asking who made this?  Where did I get it from?  So her mom told her the story of how her great aunty had made it before she was born and prayed for her as she created the blanket stitch by stitch.  The little girl looked at her mom and said matter-of-factly as only a six-year-old can, "So that's why I'm here" and took the blanket up to her room.  It became her favorite blanket after that conversation.

Now, she's been promoted to "big sister" and I felt that deserved it's own special acknowledgement.  After all, the baby becomes the centre of focus.  So since this particular pattern can be made in a youth size, she I made a blanket just for her to match her baby brother's.

And then there's all the yarn left over.  What to do with that?  That's how the middle afghan in a star shape came to be.  As I ran out of one yarn, I patched in another. Round and round.  Simple, right-brain activity at its best.  Relaxing.  Restoring.  Letting the mind rest once again.

Last week, I bought three boxes from Canada Post.  Boxed each blanket individually.  And mailed them off.

The other day, I got a special phone call.  The voice on the other end was not  my niece.  Rather it was my six-year-old great niece thanking me for her blanket and telling me how much she like it.

A special thank-you from a very special person for a special blanket.

As I say good-bye to these projects, there is a void.  However, as nature abhors a vacuum, I'm already into the next projects.  What will they be?  Who will they go to?

A clothes line ...

... of finished (finally) projects ...
.

All finished
(from left to right)  youth size Noah's Ark, adult size star-shaped afghan made from leftovers of youth afghan and the one that started it all - baby size Noah's Ark

proudly displaying - for all the backyard to enjoy - the result of my recent efforts and endeavours.  The many enjoyable hours spend creating these projects (which are now in the mail to their recipients) and the not so enjoyable hours spent doing the drudge work, the work of weaving in the ends, making the fringe, etc.  

Of coursse, the backyard is mostly inhabited by birds doing flyovers, squirrels foraging for whatever they forage for - mostly my spring bulbs,  rabbits intent on nibbling away the bark on my tender trees, groundhogs and the occasion raccoon and/or skunk.  Not really the best audience for this incredible display of beauty - but the best I could do on short notice.

I am proud of these creations.  Inordinately proud.  They've been a challenge from start to finish.

Crocheting and knitting are right-brain activities but they also contain some left-brain elements.

Like reading the pattern.  Following the pattern.

With a brain that has been exhibiting fluctuating characteristics of brain injury, reading and following instructions can be problematic.  Also challenging.

And then there's the finishing....

On the two Noah's Ark afghans, the technique is such that if you get one stitch wrong, the whole pattern goes out of wack.  The crafter is literally creating a picture,  row by row, reading a diagram.  Creating something with yarn and hook out of thin air.  There is no tapestry to weave into.  No paper to paint on.  The picture literally forms row by row.  Out of thin air.   At first in each segment, it seems like a mess.  Like nothing beautiful or recognizable can ever come from this.  But as row builds upon row, the picture comes out.  Slowly.  Beautifully.

I love to watch the picture form beneath my fingers.

But I also feel frustrated when the mind won't cooperate with the fingers.  When the pattern comes out wrong.

At those times, I (wisely) choose to put the project down for a brief time. To focus on something (anything) else.  As long as it's right-brain, I mean.

For me that may mean a DVD.  Or a Sudoku puzzle.  Or a fresh (easy) project.

I've learned to keep more than one project on the go at any given time.  Especially at least one that is mostly right-brain for those moments when the left leaves the room entirely.  Knitting back and forth, back and forth or crocheting in a simple pattern.  Letting the rhythm of the needles (or hook) sooth my battered soul and emotions.

Of the three pictured on the clothesline above, can you guess which was the right brain one?  With all the colours, it may appear complicated but really it wasn't.  Simply crocheting around and around in a star-shape adding a new colour as an old one ended, using up the leftovers from two previous works (of art).

Hope your day is filled with good right-brained activity - and just enough left-brained to keep things interesting.

I Love to Create ...

... but I hate to tie in the ends.

Latest (unfinished) creation - star-shaped afghan made out of leftovers from other projects

After the creation, after the right brain activity calms the brain and allows healing to proceed comes the hard part, the cognitive part.  The part where all the ends have to be woven into the finished garment so it won't unravel when washed.  The part where the seams have to be sewn up in such a way, it looks seamless.  The part where the fringe has to be made.  The part that makes the garment whole.  The part the garment cannot be complete without.

Another unfinished proejct - youth size Noah's Ark afghan for great-niece who just became a big sister

And therein, lies the problem.  Give me the hook.  Give me the needles and yarn.  Give me a pattern or even an idea - and I'm a happy camper.  

Years ago, in a difficult work situation which sucked all the energy out of me, I realized that I was happiest when I was crocheting so my ever-lovin', long-sufferin' Papa Bear drove me to Mary Maxim's in Paris, Ontario.  

If you're a crafter, you know all about Mary Maxim's.  If you're not ... well, I feel sorry for you.

He looked the other way as I picked out a basket full of yarns and possible craft projects and headed for the check out.

He looked the other way when the total was announced.

He may not be a hooker, needler or crafter but he supported me all the way.

Baby Noah's Ark afghan (still waiting for finishing touches) for new great nephew
Hope he's not graduating from high school by the time I finish it

And so I crafted.  If you were having a baby, I was your woman for a baby blanket as that was what I was focusing on at the time.

BUT after the crafting, after the creation comes the hard part.  The finishing.

The two blankets above, one youth, the other baby, are made with loose ends on both sides because of the distinctive crochet technique used.  That blanket has to be finished or it will fall apart.  Which is not a good thing.  Definitely not a good thing.

Fingerless gloves.  Needing to be sewn up.

I have spent the last week procrastinating on finishing those blankets.  In fact, I was so caught up in the procrastinating and creating that I've actually almost finished another afghan (the first picture) for the adults involved (so everyone in the family will have their own "special" blankie to curl on in - adults need special loving too, you know).  which will also need to be tied in.  Finished.  It's an on-going vicious cycle in my world.

I think I resent the finishing part because it takes valuable time away from the creating.  Also because it involves thinking.  Left brain activity.

The left brain complains saying:  "I hurt.  I'm still recovering.  Leave me be."  But I can't.  I need it too. It has needed - and still needs - a rest.  But it also needs to know that it's OK to be the left brain. Cognitive has it's good parts too.

So today, I will leave you with that thought and pick up the threads to finish these projects.

Unfinished edge

See you later, hopefully with pictures of the finished products ready to box up and mail.

Until then, enjoy life - whatever form yours takes - to the fullest.

Knitting is NOT ...

... WHO I am.

Rather, knitting is what I DO.

I knit for many reasons.  One is for therapy. However,  primarily, I knit because creativity is in my DNA.   My mother and father painted.  I can't.  I can't even do a stick figure.  So I create with needles, hooks and yarns.

Some people spend hours in their garden.  Some go fishing - and have the fish tales to prove it.  Some spend the majority of their time working.  The character Gibbs in NCIS builds boats.  Me.  I knit - or crochet.  Whichever.  To me, since they are both in the fibre arts category, they're interchangeable.  At least for the therapeutic purposes in this blog.

Although knitting is my right brain activity, my brain never seems to quit working.  Racing.  Thinking.  However, with yarn craft, there is a difference to the thoughts.  The colours, the feel of the yarn through my fingers, the piece of work coming to shape beneath my fingers stir my thinking towards ideas for the next creation.  Maybe it's the same pattern in different colours.  Maybe it's a new project altogether.


Making the green slouchy beret was like that.  I began to think of making it in different colours.  Making other hats.  Once I'd successfully closed the circle at the top of the hat, I wanted to do it again.  And again.  And again.  I felt like a mountain climber when he's faced the huge challenge of scaling the peak and stands at the top looking down.  Only for me, I was standing over my work being blocked, looking at the perfection of it.  Feeling a huge sense of pride of accomplishment.

It was at almost the same time that I discovered that a friend of mine had been diagnosed with cancer and was facing chemo therapy and radiation.  Simultaneously, I discovered that a young woman I'd last seen when she was five years ago, had also been diagnosed with the same kind of cancer and was also facing chemo therapy and radiation.

There went the brain.  Into overdrive.  Brimming over with all sorts of ideas and thoughts.  The challenges.  The almost papable scent of creating (you know, like the scent of the chase).

There were many things I couldn't do at that point in time.  I had no idea.  Severe fatigue was my common companion.  I couldn't cook.  I could barely function.

 Normally, I'm a foodie and would have been right in there with offerings of home cooked meals.  However, I didn't even have the strength or energy to cook for myself and Papa Bear, so how could I walk with my friend during her journey of cancer, chemo and radiation?

I thought long and hard of what I could - and couldn't - do.

There was one thing I could do even in my weakened state.  I could knit.

I could knit (and crochet) chemo hats - for both of these ladies.

At one point, I said to my friend how I wished I could help her out with food to which she said, "A lot of people are making food for me.  My freezer is full.  You're the only one who can make me chemo hats."

The woman from my church (mentioned at the beginning of the preceding blog) was right.

Knitting is not whom I am.

                                                      But it is what I do.

                                                      More importantly, it's how I bless  people.

A box of "Goodies"

"Knitting ...

... is not who you are," were the words from a woman, a minister, I had invited into my private place, my safe place.  The birthplace of my knit and crochet creations.  The place where I can be "me" in all my disabilities - and all my creativeness.

My wall of scarves

It had been an extremely rough half year.  My mom had died.  My relationship with my only sibling had taken a disturbing downturn.  All the PTSD and stress affects had gone off the roof.  No energy.  No motivation.  Overwhelmed by even the simplest tasks.  Unable to perform even the simplest tasks of living.

Yet, even in my grief and despair, there was still one thing I could do (besides sleep).  I could knit.

Even when the energy was very low and the cognitive skills were barely there, I could still knit.  One row forward; one row back.

Initially, after I returned from my mom's funeral, I discovered that reading patterns and following instructions was way beyond my abilities.  BUT, there was always the one row forward and the one row back.  The twirley scarves.

I always seem to have an abundance of them.  After mom died, I put that stash to good use.  Over the course of the last year when I had been able to visit my mom for a week at a time rather than a rushed weekend visit, I had gotten to know many of the assorted staff members from the aides to the nurses even to some of the administrative staff.

Mom had been a resident at the enriched seniors housing facility for seven years - and had been loved by many of the staff.  After her passing, I went back with a bagful of scarves and passed them out to those who had in some way blessed us during those seven years - especially during those last two weeks when the energizer bunny slowly ran down.

Coming home, my stash depleted, my abilities and cognitive skills down for the count, rebuilding my stash was the one activity I could do.  The one that kept me sane in an otherwise insane world.

Slowly, very slowly, my mind began to heal as the scarves flowed through my fingers.

Then I got challenged during one of my bi-weekly visits to my favorite yarn store.  I saw a hat.  A beret.  A slouchy beret.  I didn't want the one I saw on display.  I wanted to make one!  I wanted to create again.

With encouragement from my friendly mentor, I selected yarn and pattern.  Then the fun began.

I had used circular needles but only for flat pieces.  Now I was using them in a ... well ... a circle which was a challenge in and off itself.  Following the design was the hardest part of the challenge - which I accepted.  I knitted.  I ripped.  I started again.  I tinked (knit backwards which means "unknit" in layman's terms).  I used markers and row counters.  And I persevered.  Until it came time to close the circle - since I've never seen a hat with an open top.  To decrease stitches.  Here is where a new learning experience came in.  Learning to knit with double ended crowbars.  Oops!  I mean needles.  But they sure felt like crowbars to me.  They felt twelve feet long and at least a foot wide!  (see photos on left for real dimensions).

And here is where I leave the post for today.  With healing slowly beginning accompanied by the rhythmic click of the needles.

Knitting is not whom I am.

It's what I do.

It's how I heal.

More next time.

One Stitch at a Time

This week's projects on the go - one crochet; three knit

This entire adventure called knitting began with an impulsive walk into a yarn store one day and then progressed into learning how to knit.  Basic knitting.  Eight stitches one way; eight stitches back.  Over and over again watching the scarf yarn twirl itself below my needles.  Watching the yarn twirl itself around and around, watching the colours flow and the scarf take shape were fascinating to me.  I couldn't get enough of it.

I call them "twirley scarves" for that reason.  Simple knitting.  That's all it took to make these gorgeous "twirley" scarves.  That's all it took - besides the yarn.  And, oh!, it turned out that there were all kinds of scarf yarns in all price ranges.  And the colours!  From solid pinks and blues to varigated yarns in wild colours.  I had to try them all out.  And while I didn't get to try them all out as new ones are coming on the market all the time, I made a good stab at it.  In just a few months, I had more than enough for Christmas presents for all the ladies on my list plus a yarn stash for me projects.

But what about the men?  None of the men on my list would dare wear a "twirley" scarf.   Nope.  They would definitely want something more masculine.  At that point, more masculine wasn't going to happen.  They got chocolate for Christmas that yarn.  One size fits all.

Then there's the added dilemma that my mind always seems to be working - in one way or another.  At least with knitting, it's working on what the next project might look like rather than on what happened in the past.   I was continually looking at people's heads, necks, hands, whatever to see what they wore - and if it was handmade.  Always insecure, I felt like I could never go any further than where I was - and that challenged me.  I wanted to be able to knit more than just the scarves.  I wanted to knit.  Really knit.  I wanted to knit he-man type things for those men in my life.

So, I found a mentor in the yarn shop in Stratford.  After my bi-weekly counselling sessions, I would drop by and get help. My friendly mentor helped me select my projects.  Sold me yarn and patterns.  Encouraged me.  Praised my efforts.  Corrected my mistakes.  Gave me helpful hints.

From her, I learned a new word and a new "technique":  tinking.  The word "tink" is simply knit backwards and that's exactly what tinking is:  knitting backwards - or rather unknitting.  Works a lot better than ripping out because with knitting using two needles, if you rip your work out, you have to somehow get it - all of it - back on the needles.  I found that needles can be very uncooperative.  With tinking, you keep all your stitches on the needles and simply knit - or rather unknit - backwards.   Simple.  Well, kind of.  Especially after you've done it a couple of hundred times.

My first few attempts at going deeper into knitting rather then simply knitting back and forth created more angst than they relieved.  The exact opposite of the purpose of using knitting for right brain activity.  My mentor acquainted me with such  handy-dandy accessories as  counters and stitch markers - and how to use them most effectively in addition to the previously mentioned tinking, thereby showing me ways to forge ahead and relieve the stress.

She mentored me through my first projects of a cabled cowl.  Soon followed by a cable scarf.

Followed by a herringbone scarf.

I learned something new with each new project; each new skill.  My confidence increased.

I learned that when learning a new stitch to buy a less expensive yarn to work on the first piece, thereby causing less damage to the fabric of the yarn by repeated ripping out and starting all over again.

I also learned to practice the stitch on dishcloths and dish towels thus learning a new skill while at the same time making something practical to give away and bless someone with at a later time.  As a result, I have a basketful of knit "blessings", i.e. dishcloths, to give away.

As I write these words, my mind automatically goes to the colours, the patterns, the possible next project.  My accumulated stash of yarn and patterns.

What will I attempt next?

Only the mind knows.

And it's not telling ....

Knitting as Right Brain Activity

Someone had fun - and let their right brain go crazy - with this lamp post in Conway, South Carolina

 For those of us dealing with trauma and PTSD, one of the best ways to cope - and eventually - heal is through right-brain activity.

Our left brains - the logical part of us; the part that keeps trying to make sense of things that don't make sense - goes into overdrive.  Continually active.  Nagging at us.  Keeping us awake at night.  Tormenting us.

The right brain is the opposite.  The creative part of us.  The part we need to allow to take over in times of stress and trauma to soothe us and allow emotional healing to take place.

There are many activities which are considered right brain activity:  knitting (and the other creative arts) being one of them; reading; photography.  Anything that does not involve logical thinking or problem solving.  Knitting (and the related art of crocheting) are what I've chosen as my pre-eminent right brain activities:  those which help keep me sane in an insane world.

Before I learned to knit, I crocheted.  Now I do both.  It's not uncommon for me to have two, three or even four projects on the go at any given time.  Right now, I have two pairs of fingerless gloves on the needles and a baby afghan on a hook so I can mix it up a bit.  If I get bored with one for a period of time, then I can switch to one of the others.  Or even start up a new one.

It's a knitting thing, I believe.  Real knitters move from one project to another and back again.  Real knitters sit back and go with the flow.

I discovered the difference between the left brain and the right during the aforementioned severely stressful situation when my therapist suggested I read the book Invisible Heroes:  Survivors of Trauma and How They Heal by Belleruth Naparstek.  I was expecting stories about trauma victims and their survival stories.  Instead, the book was about this psychotherpapist's work with trauma victims and what she learned through her experience including how she changed her therapeutic model and techniques based on her work and research.

She discovered the use of right brain activity, specifically affirmations and guided meditation, to be especially helpful in the healing/recovery process.  She gives examples of both.

For me, right brain activity is not just confined to affirmations and guided meditation - or I would be doing those activities pretty well 7/24 some days.  For me, it's the art of creation.  Seeing the work in progress.  Watching something beautiful come from a mere string of yarn.  Covering myself with the completed afghan.  Wrapping the warm, comforting shawl around my shoulders like giving myself a soft hug.  Feeliing the different fibres of yarn beneath my fingers.  Hearing the soft click clack of the needles rubbing against each other.

Definitely a sensory experience.  Then add music to the mix. Soft music.  Celtic music.  Classical.  Praise.  Whatever.  Add to that, a safe you consider to be your safe place.  If you don't have one, create one.  Fill it with your favorite right-brain things.  Mine is filled with yarn, patterns, DVD's, CD's, my computer.  A heater to keep me warm.  A fan to keep me cool.  A phone.  My rocker.  Books.  Various completed projects.

Everything I need when my emotions are in a jangle.  When the thoughts assail and torment me.

Everything I need to regain equilibrium and peace.

My second favorite lamppost - a crocheted chain wrapped around the post adorned with crocheted flowers.

The Life and Times of a Yarn Junkie

MamaBear with Sashay scarf - I love the bright colours

One model for four projects:  a
LionBrand Homespun shawl; a
studioloo (handspun) scarf on head);
two "twirly"scarves and one
fingerless glove

 From Red Heart Sashay to Frillseeker Light.  From hand spun Studioloo to hand dyed Handmaiden Sea Silk.  From Lion Brand Homespun to Marble Chunky.  I haven't met a yarn I didn't like. There are so many of them.  Of all types and persuasions.  Cottons. Acrylic.  Wools of all kinds - Alpaca, Merino, etc.  Silk.  Various scarf yarns. The colours:  soft colours; jewel-tone colours, bright colours; dark colours, variegated yarns, hand-dyed yarns.  A yarn for any season.  Any reason.  Ahhhh, the ecstasy of it all.  Sometimes I wonder if I've died and gone to yarn heaven.
So many yarns.  So little time to knit.

Or maybe I should give up sleeping....  Hmmm.  Now that's a thought.  Maybe not a good one, though.

My creative place - with finished and
unfinished projects

Two projects on finished Lighthouse
filet crochet afghan

To think, I used to believe that all yarns were carried by places like Michaels.  JoAnn's.  Mary Maxims.  Herrschners.  Lens Mills.

I had no clue as to the wide world of yarns awaiting me, beckoning me into their warm, soft embrace.

My pride and joy -
Handmaiden Sea Silk shawl -
slightly imperfect:  just like me

I had needlessly limited myself.  To think that one little store in a little town in Ontario was the key to broadening my horizons yarn-wise.  To point me in the direction of becoming a "yarn junkie".  Addicted to the feel and colours of other yarns, more expensive yarns.  Yarns made out of wool, silk, merino.  Yarns that feel like butter moving through the needles.  The touch alone calms the nerves and speeds in recovery.

Modelling my first ever hat.  I am
so proud of it.
Cowl made from Studioloo

Ahhh, pure blissful, decadent delight.

I had no idea that day that I first wandered into the yarn shop in Stratford that it would be a life-changing event.  Even when I left with my first pair of knitting needles and a couple of balls of Katia Triana scarf yarn, I had no idea what was to follow.

Chemo Hat for friend - crochet

I continued going back to the yarn store every time I had a counselling appointment in Stratford.  I like to think of it as the combination of two different kinds of therapy:  yarn and talk.  Both valuable.  The talk helps me sort of my issues; the yarn - ahhhh, the yarn.  What can I say except that the colours delight me, make me smile?  So does the owner with her kind words and helpful comments.

After my first couple of scarves, I started scouring the area of more scarf yarns.  I found both yarn stores in my hometown of Kitchener.   At that point in time, only one carried the scarf yarns.  Different from the ones carried in Stratford.  Then I found more scarf yarns in Lens Mills.  The hunt was on.  The quest had begin.  The thirst for yarn that could not be assuaged with only one type.

Thus began the beginning of the making of a yarn junkie.  A saga that continues on to this day.

See you next week.  Until then ... happy knitting - or whatever you do to stay sane.

A scarf for almost any occasion

CloseKnit in Stratford, Ontario ...

... is where my odyssey with knitting began.

The yarn shop in Stratford, ON that started it all.  The owners readily admit that they're guilty in their role in corrupting this poor little hooker - oops! I mean bear.  Unashamedly so.  In fact, they're proud of the needler aka knitter they're in the process of creating.

In my journey of recovery from complex PTSD, trauma, workplace bullying, etc., I've been blessed with a wonderful support in the form of a counsellor who has provided a safe place for me to examine and work through my issues.  But I had to be committed.  You see, this woman's office was originally in a small town, Milverton, Ontario, about 45 km from my home. (Described with accompanying pictures is an early blog post on my other spot).  I committed myself to driving there every other week in all kinds of weather and road conditions on country roads.  Roads shared by my nemesis - trucks.  Big trucks.  Little trucks.  Feed/grain trucks.  For a person who was afraid of driving, this was quite a commitment.

About the time, my odyssey with recovery from trauma/PTSD/workplace abuse was taking another twist in the road, my counsellor took a good hard look at where her ministry was heading and decided to move - to another small town, Stratford, Ontario - the home of the Shakespeare Festival.  The commute this time was still 45 kilometres (approximately) just in a different direction.  A change of scenery for my bi-weekly drive.

During my first trip to Stratford for "regular" therapy, I decided to get there early and just walk around the town a bit.  In addition to being known for the Shakespeare Festival, it is a lot of the little touristy shops that make going there so much fun - and expensive.

During my perambulation, I discovered a nice shoe store, several gifts shops AND a small yarn store.  Me, being me, I wandered in for a look-see (after all hookers use yarn too).  I wandered out with several skeins of scarf yarn, knitting needles and basic instructions on how to put two and two together - er - rather needles and yarn together to make a scarf or two.

This where the corruption began.  With the frilly scarf yarns.

I became intoxicated with these yarns and began to look for more - and more - and more.   I was becoming a "yarn junkie".

The First Knit Christmas

 Two weeks into this blog, and I've already missed my (admittdly self-imposed) deadline of one blog per week.

At least, I'm not getting paid to write.  At least at this time, although that is my dream.

I'm also not getting paid to knit - or crochet.  Although that is my passion.  My right-brain activity of choice.  The activity that has played the biggest part in helping this fractured brain heal.  Yes, I read books.  I watch DVD's, but my favorite activity since life got me down for the count has been to (at first) crochet and (now) knit and crochet.

Even before I had the first stress breakdown when the severely stressful situation was escalating, I would indulge in my favorite activity.  Crocheting.  As I revealed in my last blog posting, I was a crocheter with a secret.  I wanted to knit.  I revelled in the feeling of the yarn flowing through my fingers.  Watching the article take shape and form below my fingers.  I chose to make baby afghans during that time.  Round ones.  Square ones.  Yellow, white, pink, whatever.  Even though I didn't know anyone who was expecting.  I figured that I'd find homes for them - eventually.  Finding homes wasn't the purpose.  I needed the right brain activity  to survive.  To be able to stay sane and keep going back into the stressful situation day after day.

And then the unthinkable happened.  I was forced out of the stressful situation partially by health but chiefly with "help" from those on the other side in the situation.

So what did I do?  More crocheting.  Until that fateful day when I walked into a small yarn shop in a small town and was encouraged by the owner, that I too could knit.

 Knitting I have found is totally different from crocheting - especially as I began with the scarves.  I loved the colours.  I loved the feeling of the scarf yarn going through my fingers.  I loved the way it twirled around by itself.  It was fun.  Crocheting is fun but this was a different kind of fun.  A different motion.

I loved also the rhythm of the needles.  Totally different from crocheting.  Right brain.  But a different right brain.  More soothing.  More rhythmic.  The one thing during that period of time that could bring a soft smile to my lips.

As a bonus, I was making my Christmas presents (at least for the females on my life - I wasn't brave enough to attempt to present one of these scarves to my husband, son-in-love or brother-in-law).  I was having fun, enjoying myself AND doing something worthwhile at the same time.

It doesn't get much better than that.

In The Beginning ...

... was a crocheter.  A 40+ year veteran of the hooks.  Known for my ability to combine prayer and crocheting to bless people. Prayer shawls.  Baby blankets.  Dishcloths.  Even doll clothes.  You name it.  I'd probably made it - and given it away - at one time or another.

But I had a dark secret.

I couldn't knit.  I looked at knitted hats, dishcloths, whatever and secretly felt ashamed because I could "only" crochet.  Like a very distant cousin to the real crafters - those who held needles (needlers) in their hands instead of hooks (hookers).   I would go to yarn shops and see book after book of knitted patterns.  With only one or two books of crochet patterns.  I would feel left out.  Like I could never belong to the community because of my lack of knitting ability.

And then one day, it all started to change.  Actually, pretty innocently.

I walked into a new (to me) yarn store (small) in a small town and saw those lovely, fancy, frilly yarns which those lovely, in style scarves are made from.  I enquired of the store owner only to be informed that these yarns were for knitting, not crocheting.  She encouraged me by saying that she thought I could do it.   That I could actually knit one of these scarves beautiful scarves was a novel thought to me which I initially rejected as (a) impossible and (b) insane.  She took out her trusty needles and a skein of the yarn - and showed me step by step how to do the knit stitch.  It looked easy enough.  After all, I had knit (slippers) when I was 12 years old.  Maybe knitting was like riding a bike; maybe you never forget how.  Maybe.

Maybe - just maybe - I could do this.  Maybe.  It was at least worth a try, right?

I bought several skeins of the yarn.  I bought the needles suggested.  She gave me the scarf pattern.  I went back to my den to see what I could see.

I looked at the pattern.  I looked at the yarn.  I didn't touch the needles - yet.  They were too scary with their sharp pointed ends instead of a nicely rounded hook.  I wasn't ready for them yet.

I tossed arund in my mind what I'd seen the yarn lady do.  How she moved the yarn through her fingers.  The instructive words she had said.  I practised the moves in my imagination over and over until I thought I had the basic concept right - at least in my mind.

Now all I had to do was get out of my mind and into reality.  Actually put needle to yarn - or is it yarn to needle?

It took a couple of days to get my nerve up.  To actually open up the package containing the needles.  To take the wrapper off the yarn.  To start twining the yarn around the needles.  It felt foreign to my hands.  And to the way my mind works.  Hooks, it cried!  I want hooks!  Don't confuse me with needles!

But this wasn't the end.  It was only the raw beginning of what has become an adventure.

What do you expect to find in a blog entitled:  The Naked Knitter?

If you're thinking you're found a porno site, you're wrong.

If you think this post is entirely about knitting, you're wrong again.

I'm "bi".  Not bi-sexual.  Nor am I bi-lingual.  I am bi because I both knit and crochet.

Actually crocheting came before knitting.

Clothing came before optional.

The chicken came before the egg - or was it the other way around?

Those who follow my original blog, Ramblings of a Deranged Mind, will be somewhat familiar with my story:  a story of recovery, of survival, from severe stress.  A story of a life so changed by the aftereffects of latent, prolonged stress that once normal activities are no longer normal.  I once enjoyed regular walks through my neighbourhood, canoe camping, times with my family.  I wasn't the most active person in the world, but I WAS active.  I could cook meals for my family.  I could dance along with music from my CD's.  I was challenging myself more and more to overcome phobias, etc. that had been my life-long companions.  Life was fun.  Life was exciting.  I was enjoying life.  Looking around the corner for the next adventure.  The next challenge.

And then my life changed directions.  On a dime.  Without warning me in advance.

I had two stress breakdowns back to back.  Psychiatric injury.  Possible chronic fatigue - although undiagnosed.

Hypervigilism.  Extreme fatigue.  Lack of balance so severe at times that I have to grab onto whatever's handy to keep upright.  Trembling.  Weakness.  Speech impediments.  Destruction of once superb cognitive abilities.  Itching so bad that at times I could not wear clothes (hence the name of this blog).

I lost my job.  My husband lost his job at around the same time.  Life was no longer fun.

Each day became a challenge.  At one point during the worst of it, I was told that when a person has both physical and emotional challenges, the physical take precedence.

So I learned to listen to my body.  To do what it said.  Which meant I ended up isolated in my home for weeks while my body rested.  My husband took care of me during this time.  The church brought some meals.  A friend came over to visit while I laid on the couch.

There were days that I couldn't even sit up.  Couldn't read.  Couldn't do much of anything except lie in bed - and pray.

Through the journey to this point, I had been learning about right brain activity.  Reading.  Watching DVD's.  Knitting.  Crocheting.  These, and more, are all right brain activities.  They speak into the right brain to allow the left brain - the part that kept trying to make sense out of the nonsensical - rest and heal.  As I was able, I crocheted.  And crocheted.  And crocheted.  Making a pile of baby blankets - with no intended recipients.

And then I learned to knit.

My first projects were the "twirley" scarves.  A wonderful lady at a local yarn store showed me how to knit them.  Six - or eight - stitches one way and then back again.  Over and over.  Repetitive.    Right brain activity which allowed my brain to heal while my hands were active.  I loved the feel of the yarn in my fingers.  I loved watching the scarf grow beneath my fingers.  I loved the beautiful colours.  I loved the feeling of being creative.  Life started to be good again.  To have meaning.

In this blog, I will share my journey through the eyes of a beginning knitter.  The challenges.  The failures.  The successes.  How life and art knit themselves together.

This will not be a daily blog, probably a weekly one.

Stay turned.