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.

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 ....