The Importance of a Yarn Stash

Every serious knitter/crocheter has to have a yarn stash.  It's a must - for every self-respecting knitter/crocheter, that is.

And I most definitely am a self-respecting knitter/crocheter.  Very.

The size of the stash separates the hard core knitters/crocheters from the "others".

The bigger the stash, the more hard core you are.  

That being the case, I am hard core.  Certifiably hard core.  

Certifiably hard core.  

I have enough yarn stashed in bins in my basement to keep me busy for a very very long time.  I can't die anytime soon.  I have way too much yarn and too many projects to complete before that can happen.

Stash happens when there is leftover pieces of yarn from a project or too many skeins of yarn bought for one project.

Stash also happens when the crafter goes to to a yarn store whether it be Michaels i.e. a chain store, a local boutique yarn store, a knitters' fair, Mary Maxims or my favourite, the Spinrite Factory Outside annual tent sale.

Any place where the there's lots and lots and lots of yarn to tempt the eyes.

On the side of this post are pictures of various aspects of my stash.  I have all kinds of yarn:  worsted weight, baby yarn, sock yarn, dk weight, novelty yarn, bulky weight, lace weight, ribbon.  You name it, I probably have it.

There's acrylic, wool/wool blends, cotton, linen, silk ....

And colours.  Lots of various colours. Soft pastel baby colours.  Bold brights.  Cream, white, black, grey, brown for neutral effects.

However,  while what you see may look like a mess, a waste of money, even a woman with a severe yarn hoarding problems, what I see when I look at all these balls of yarns is something different.

I see lots of projects just waiting for that magical moment when creation happens.

Inside those bins, lurked the prayer shawl above which I made for a friend whose Mom had been diagnosed with cancer.  This project was not only made entirely from my stash but started out with the yarn left over from her mom's prayer shaw.

Then there's the large granny square afghan I started when a friend gave me what was supposed to be the beginning of a baby blanket for a friend's baby.  She ran out of yarn too soon and we traded - her unfinished square for one of my finished projects - also created from my stash.  I finished this afghan from bits and pieces from my own stash only purchasing enough yarn of the lavender colour (which originally came from my stash).

And there's one of my personal favourites: a "prayerghan" made for a Syrian refugee family in our area made almost entirely (but not quite) from my stash.  I started with an idea and what I call a "recipe" and let my mind, needles, hands and imagination go from there.

Personally, I don't know what I'd do without my stash.

More reading maybe?

Sometimes it's easier - and faster - to knit 40-60 rows of garter stitch then to do 10 rows of a more complicated pattern.   A pattern which requires thinking.  Cognitive abilities.

Cognitive abilities which have at times gone AWOL - or the current wording Absent Without Leave - without warning or giving me a forwarding address.  No ETA of when they might return either.

When that happens, I'm left to my own desires and devices ... er ... coping techniques.

One of my coping techniques in this ongoing journey of recovery from workplace abuse is that when one thing doesn't work, I try something else.

When the mind can't seem to follow the directions, the pattern, and I'm doing more tinking (unknitting) then knitting.

When the project is resisting me at every turn.  When I'm moving backward faster than I am forward.  When I'm getting frustrated - which happens easily post workplace abuse.  Discouraged too.  Both of which happen easily these days.  And more frequently than I would like.

So I put that work aside - either temporarily or long-term - and either pick up something else on my WIP (Works in Process) pile or start something new.  Something in my stash.  Something very easy.  Something ... well ... something like this work scarf pictured on the left.

Something brainless.  Mindless.  Soothing.  Something with few cognitive skills required.

Which is why when I looked at this Fisherman's Crochet baby blanket which has been a WIP for years now, determined to pick it up and finish it off, my mind looked at it and said:  "No way, Jose.  I'm NOT doing this.  And without me, you aren't either."

I should interject at some point that working on this intricate afghan has been like starting over - even though I've done it once before, even though I knew, at some point in time, how to do all these stitches, this project has fought me tooth and nail.  Every time I started a new part of the pattern, a different stitch, I could not successfully do it until after several failed tries and you-tubing a tutorial on the stitch.  Talk about frustration.

This blanket is approximately 2/3 way done.  I'm ready to start the second panel of the diamond stitch you can see in the picture.  The problem with this blanket is that although I've made it once before and am an experienced crocheter, with the cognitive deficits post workplace abuse, making this blanket has been almost like starting new.  From the beginning.  Which has been ... concerning ... frustrating ....

So I picked up this kit I'd bought previously and decided what the heck! let's go.  Let's start it.  Even though another new project is exactly what I don't need at this time with others waiting to be finished. Yet I don't have to finish it.  I only have to start it and work on it until the needles do their magical, soothing work.  I must have been really down for the count mentally/brain wise because a week later I completely finished this 5-6 scarf.

A 1x1 rib (see! I've learned to successfully speak knitting too! Along with Canadian and American English with a smattering of Scottish English thrown in for good measure), it's not as mindless as straight garter or even stockinette (one row knit, one row purl) would be, but it has it's own rhythm.

A soothing rhythm once I get into the groove.

And it works!

That's the purpose of the exercise - of knitting.  It's my right brain activity.  It's my port in a storm.  It's what I do when I can't do much of anything else.

And it works.

And I have a brand new hand made scarf all ready for spring ... or what's considered spring here in Canada.  Bonus!

#12 on my "Wish List"

 Quite a while ago on my main blog, Ramblings of a Deranged Mind, I posted a blog entitled "My Wish List".  It included a lot of things - most of which have nothing to do with knitting or crocheting - which are on my list of goals.  Number 12 said that I wanted to become as proficient at knitting as I was at crocheting.

This was early on in both my journey of recovery post workplace abuse as well as in my journey learning to knit.

I've been crocheting for more than 40 years; I've only been learning to knit since the fall of 2011.

When I began to learn to knit, there wasn't much I couldn't with with my crochet hook, yarn and a pattern.  At the same time, there wasn't much that I could do with knitting needles without or without yarn and a pattern.

So the learning curve was going to go straight up.

I originally started this blog to share my ongoing adventures with learning how to knit.  However, learning how to knit is very closely related to my ongoing journey of recovery from workplace abuse.  Without the one, there would probably not be the other.

I knit to heal.  Knitting - and crocheting - are my primary right brain therapies of choice in this road to recovery.  They allow me to rest my mind from all the the questions that puzzle me - and continue to puzzle and disturb me almost five years years post workplace abuse.

They spike my creativity.

I start out with a pattern which I will follow exactly as written - the first time.  As I'm knitting or crocheting that pattern, my mind takes flights of fancy with all the things I can do with it.  I can change it.  I can play with colours.  I can do this or do that.  I start to feel alive with the possibilities of what I can create with these few resources: needles - or a hook - yarn, and a pattern.  The possibilities are endless.  Or close to.

A "frilly" scarf

I like colour!  The brighter the better.  The more, the merrier.

I love to play with yarn.

I love to watch the item taking shape beneath my fingers.

I love the feel of the wool/yarn in my fingers.

I am at my happiest and most contented state of well being when something is forming on my needles or hooks.

A prayer ghan from my imagination, gifted to a friend
struggling with kidney failure.

I feel motivated and alive when I see what I am creating and imagine the pleasure it will give someone.

And yes, I still crochet.  I do both. When I can't seem to do one, I can usually do the other.

Between the two skills, I stay grounded and can cope with the world as I know it.  I can cope with a scrambled mind.  I have a purpose in life.  I may not have the most active life in the world, but  I'm not completely useless. When the words fail, the hands, needles and yarn don't.

And I have fun.  I have something not only to do, but to talk about.

My first shawl - made of very fine silk yarn

Part of the losses involved with workplace abuse, is that the social circle gets smaller and smaller and smaller.  With physically debilitating effects, I could no longer go out and about like I used to do.  With cognitive effects, I couldn't talk coherently like I used to do.  Because the cause was trauma and PTSD due to workplace bullying, it's not well understood by regular, ordinary, run of the mill people.  Even church people have huge issues with my issues.

But. I. Could. Knit. Or. Crochet.  Even if it was one row one way and another row back.  I could still do that.

Chemo hat.  One of my favourite endeavours

I've learned to knit (the garter stitch).  I've learned to purl.  Combined they create the stockinette stitch.  I've learned how to cable.  Lace.  Ribbing. Basketweave stitch.  I've learned how to use double pointed needles - or as I call them double pointed crowbars because the first time I used them that's what they felt like.  I've learned to use circular needles.

I started with the fashion scarves - the ones that twirled around and around and around.  Then I started on regular winter scarves.  Next came a cowl using both circular needles and the cable stitch.  Fingerless gloves followed.  Hats. Since then I've gone on to baby cocoons, 18 in doll clothes, baby - and other - blankets. And the list goes on - and on - and on.  I practice new stitches on dishcloths as they're small projects, easily ripped out and started over again, if need be.

I've used different weights of yarn from fine sock yarn to Lion Brand Homespun Bulky to novelty yarns. I've used thin needles and very large needles.  I've learned how to knit in the round using both DPNs (double pointed needles) and circular needles. I've  used cotton, wool, wood blends, acrylic, even silk.

Those are the times I feel proud of myself.  Those are the times I know healing is taking place.  Those are the times I know that while I may not have completely achieved item #12 on my wish list that I'm getting there.

By God's grace and a heck of a lot of work, I'm getting there.

And I couldn't be happier.

Prayer afghan originally started for my mom when she was dying
later gifted to a good friend whose mother was dying.

Knitting/Crocheting Do Define Who I Am. So there.

Two chemo hats for a special friend.  The one on the left followed the pattern; the one on the right followed my imagination using the pattern as a guide.

A prayer shawl made for the same special friend as the hats.
Again creativity overcame the written pattern.

In an earlier, much earlier blog, I related how a woman on staff from my church came into my safe room aka my creation centre where I proceeded to show her various aspects of my personality: my photography; the things I knit and crochet. The things that define me.  The things that I am building my recovery from workplace abuse on.

A special Christmas Tree hat for a special grandson

Very early on in the process of recovery, I started learning to knit.  Although I'd crocheted for approximately 40 years, I never thought I could knit.  It was beyond me.  Or so I thought.

And then someone mentored me on knitting.

Knitting quickly became my primary right brain therapy in the process of recovery.

It became a source of pride.

Although both knitting and crocheting involve yarn or thread and implements - a hook for one and needles for the other, it seemed that each one exercised different parts of my brain.  My creativity went wild with crocheting, but I felt calmer with knitting.

Various buttons to make it his own

Therefore it was quite a shock when this woman stood in my room with her arms across her chest and stated emphatically "This is not who you are."

It's not?  If it's not, then who, pray tell, am I?

And that was the question I was in the process of answering at this time in my life journey:  Who. Am. I?

My first (and only) knitted in the round dish cloth

Early one, a friend who is also a Christian repeated a well known verse in the Bible to me:  "And you shall know the truth and the truth will set you free."  She was talking about knowing what the Bible says about me, while I was thinking in a different way.  What is the truth about who I am?

That night I had a dream.  Not in the Martin Luther King Jr. sense of I. Have. A. Dream.  But still a dream.  One that caused me to think - and still think.

A basket of dish clothes - plus one scarf

This dream morphed from one scene to another.  In the last sequence I was suddenly in a room with mothers and babies - and a few fathers.   There were also all sorts of knit and crocheted things.  Each one looked familiar.  Each one was something that I had made and gifted - some to people I never met or knew.

One mother looked at me and said, "I was new in the area and didn't know anyone and you gave me this...."  The others were nodding.

When I woke up, I remembered that dream - which doesn't often happen.  And I thought of it.  I thought of all the things I've made and gifted over the years: baby blankets, baby dresses, scarves, dishcloths, etc.

I've given not to get back, not to get praise or money, but because this is a huge, positive part of Who. I. Am.

A very creative gifted person who uses her talents to bless others.

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.