Several years ago I was very concerned that I didn't have any interests. It was during the time that Hubby was working a job and a half for a total basic salary, making enough to keep the college debt from overwhelming us and our household debt paid. I was home with an infant SuperGirl, depressed, and didn't care to do anything extra. All I did was clean various houses for extra money (as in, make enough extra so we could eat) and watch a friend of mine's daughter part-time while she worked. I didn't want to read, sew (unless someone hired me), join any social groups (gag me with a pink ribbon) or activist groups (my stress levels were high enough as it was), or really do anything at all. All the things I had been interested in were associated with my elementary teaching profession that I wasn't doing anymore and I was doubly concerned that my only interests were only with a job, not something I just liked to do for the heck of it. The only other possible interest I had was to write fiction and illustrate but everytime I sat down I couldn't focus. That made me stressed, which made me avoid it, so I dropped that idea also. I wasn't going to make myself enjoy something as a hobby when I was already having to make myself enjoy things like housework as a means to an end or lifestyle.
So I prayed, without even realizing what I was asking, for something to do. Something to be interested in. Something that I would WANT to do, no matter who was around, what job I was working, or what influences were working their magic at that time. I wanted it to be functional but not necessarily practical, charitable but not necessarily giving, and fun but not necessarily frivolous. I wanted something flexible, not trendy, and just... ME. That's hard to do. I'm sure others could look at me and give tons of great ideas but I have a tendency not to listen to others and discredit what they think. (I'm working on stopping that, by the way.) I knew this and I didn't want to listen to everyone's "great" ideas so I just didn't ask or inform anyone of this search except those closest to me. Plus, it simply came down to the fact I had to find my own way and make this MINE, especially since in my depression I felt so much to life had been taken away from me and everything was out of my control.
I had forgotten all this as I gradually worked on my depression, worked hard at just living, loving, and trying to be a good person, and worked REALLY hard at not comparing my life to everyone else. Several years passed and I realized a few months ago that I had received my answer to prayer: knitting. It happened so gradually it never occurred to me. When I started learning to knit, it was only because I knew I had always wanted to learn, but I didn't want to master, or even enjoy, it. It was just other thing, like cross-stiching, that I could mark on my list of abilities. The lady who I asked to teach me was an old family friend and I honestly had a better time visiting her and getting a break from my life than struggling with the project she had suggested me start with.
For the first year of knitting I didn't like it at all. The both hands thing drove me crazy and I could never get my tension consistent. I plugged along only because it was supposed to be the reason I went to visit her and I wanted to finish at least one project, no matter how long it took and how cranky it made me; I get even crankier if something goes incomplete.
It didn't click until about a year later when Hubby wanted a knitted Gryffindor scarf. I started it, was griping about knitting again (how long it was taking me, my inconsistent tension, and the all-round awkwardness), and begged him to let me crochet it; I knew how to do that and I would have it done in no time at all. He sort of looked at me and said something about how it would look better knitted. I frowned at him and kept going. And kept going. Somewhere in the 5 feet of scarf, I settled in my rhythm and had to pause and say, "Hey, this isn't so bad." But there was no way I would do anything else. Scarves were good. Scarves didn't have too many rules, etc. to follow. Blankets maybe, but I would crochet those. That was fine. And I was satisfied that I could knit something decent looking.
Then Sock Sis brought Debbie Stoller's "Stitch and Bitch" book to Shreveport and showed how she was knitting stuffed animals and oh, SOCKS as a NOVICE. She was knitting alone, in Austin, with only a friend's brother and the internet as guidance and doing a GREAT job. She didn't even have the crochet background I had to fall on and she was KNITTING while LOVING it. Hmmm... That got me thinking. Whereas I didn't want to steal her hobby, I didn't want to complain about it to her either, so I sucked it up and decided maybe I could keep on doing some simple things with knitting. Plus, I loved reading the Stitch and Bitch book. It totally took the hoity-toity-ness out of knitting, not to mention the kitch-y-ness (but let's not go into some of the bizarre patterns published in those books on the complete opposite side of the spectrum), and brought everything to a realistic level that didn't overwhelm me. Plus she's really entertaining in explaining everything. And that was only the beginning.
I turn around and realize that I love it. I love every part of it. I love how I have to fix some mistakes and ignore some others. I love how I have to do 13 inches of 226 stitches stockinette to get a garment, even if it's INSANELY BORING; it teaches me that good things (or at least a finished sweater) come to those who wait. Plus, I didn't have anything else to keep my hands busy during those movie marathons. (Only, pick movies that you don't have to watch too close. Those with the long pauses and visual jokes call for lots of "what happened?" and rewinding, which fellow viewers get a little miffed at. "Love with the Proper Stranger" is totally NOT acceptable to watch, even though Steve McQueen IS. ) I love the steps of knitting socks and how you can make them as complex and OCD as you want. I love the "black hole" that is the foot of a sock (coined by Sock Sis) and how it seems to never end until suddenly your one inch is nearly 7 inches and might actually be too long. I love how there are certain stitches and techniques that help shape things and contour others so to achieve whatever goals needed. I love how the colors meld and pop and designs suddenly dance, depending on the stitch, yarn placement (or even displacement), and texture. I love how knitting a garment makes me calm my overactive brain and take things one step at a time when all I want to do is read everything in a rush, throw my knitting out the window and scream. I love how my gradual experience of knitting and taking projects as they come and interest me, letting the cosmos decide what I need for future reference, helps me read a pattern and see potential problems, things to work on, and things to keep in mind as I knit, plus be able to visualize it in my mind and contemplate what I might want to do to change it fitting my needs. I love how there are strict knitting rules. I love how there are no knitting police and as long as a person is happy with what and how they are knitting, it's fine. I love how knitting fits the knitter and also fits the wearer. I love the connection I feel with the women and men before me in the family of humanity who knitted to keep themselves and their families warm, clothed, and functioning. I love how knitting is practical and frivolous, depending on what is being done. And I haven't even started on what I like about yarn, whether acrylic, wool, cotton, or (sigh) alpaca. But most of all, I love how knitting can go wherever I go, with whoever I am with, using whatever I want, and start the most fascinating conversations with people I would never have known, talked to, or even considered I had anything in common with, whether an arthritic grandmother or the left-wing, gay-rights activist. Knitting is literally a common thread that we all can communicate with and that makes me a happy person.
Thank you God for giving me my passion. Thank you for knowing exactly what I wanted and needed. Thank you for using it to amuse everyone around me and keep them warm and loved at the same time. Amen.
4 comments:
Just yesterday, a friend of mine commented that sometimes God wants people to act independently, sometimes God wants people to depend completely on him, and sometimes it's a collaborative effort. Your answered prayer strikes me as collaborative. Knitting was definitely a gift from God--but you needed to contribute some hard work and perseverance to be able to appreciate the gift.
When I was a child and teenager, I was clever at things like academics and music, things that easily earned praise. As a result, I came to see myself as a kind of child genius. I grew to expect that, if I wanted to excel at something, I merely needed to spread my wings and let the updraft of my own wonderfulness carry me to glory. In reality, I avoided activities that didn't come easily.
Now, as an adult, I'm trying to cultivate those all-important qualities of perseverance and hard work. Above my painting table, I have a de-motivational card that actually motivates me. It shows a penguin, wings outspread, trudging over the snow and ice. The caption reads: "Limitations: Until you spread your wings, you'll have no idea how far you can walk." Besides making me laugh (which is important!) the card reminds me that I'm still learning and making progress, even though I'm not flying to instant success. And even my views of success are changing.
Thanks for telling how you arrived where you are now!
You're very welcome! Everything in life certainly is a collaboration and sometimes things are more on one side or the other. It's great when all you've been focusing on doing is merely putting one foot in front of the other, not knowing where you are going or how it's going to get there, just that you know this is what you think you are supposed to do and nothing has told you "no" yet (or at least pointed you in another direction), and then suddenly you wake up and say "hey, I did it. Things are great now. I never thought I would get here but I had always hoped I would."
Interesting about you growing up. Loved the penguin. That's a great thing to have posted.
Thanks a lot for posting this! It's been a long time since we used to talk on such subjects. You've always been curious and passionate about life, and it's great to hear about that spirit, still there, still growing.
Thanks for the encouragement. It was funny how this one happened. Something sat up and said "I have a story to tell." Hee hee...
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