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.