Knitting Myself Together

Some people pour a large glass of wine, some run, their worries falling out of their feet as they pound the pavement, some people lay in a warm bath. I knit.

In June 2007 I decided to learn how to knit. Coincidentally it was the same week I got a kitten and the same week I had my first miscarriage. Throughout the difficult 12 months, that was to follow, the kitten sat on my feet and grew and I gradually learned to knit, purl, decrease, increase and cable.

Whenever I feel that I shouldn’t and can’t inflict myself on the world and vice versa, I can find the comfort and escapism I need between two bamboo needles. The familiar feel yarn wound around my fingers and the needles resting on my hands slows my heart rate and after 10 minutes of working my shoulders have dropped. 

It needs enough concentration to take my mind off whatever may be troubling me, but at the same time is familiar enough to take very little toll on an already over-packed brain. 

This need to retreat coupled with the enthusiasm that a new project brings, made more special by the fact that it is a garment for a friend’s, yet to arrive baby, means I haven’t and may not be around as much as usual. I may not have replied to an e-mail or text you have sent. I may not be around for coffee or be calling you on the phone. I am sorry. I have not forgotten you and will be back soon.

In the meantime, do not fret. I’m just knitting. 


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