She’s a knitter now.
I’ve really got into knitting lately. It started with my cousin announcing they were expecting a baby (for the purposes of my life, cousin can now be plural and refers both to the children of my aunts and uncles along with their partners. They’re essentially cousins by extension anyway). As any girl in their mid-twenties surely would do, I decided to knit this baby a hat – despite not having knitted in a couple of years, and that streak ending with a half-made sock. However, the lack of circular knitting needles and patterns couldn’t deter me as I embarked upon my latest craft craze.
I learnt to knit when I was a child – one church service, probably about the different skills and gifts we all have meant that one of the older ladies in the church had brought in their knitting. She was trying, unsuccessfully, to explain the process to my Dad, who wasn’t having much joy with the whole project. I leaned in and asked if I could have a go. I was by no means a natural, probably learning at a similar pace to my Dad and holding the needles all wrong, but nonetheless, some form of knitted shape was slowly being produced. Throughout the service and afterwards, I kept repeating those actions, carefully knotting the wool as I had been shown, dropping stitches regularly whilst somehow always increasing the length of the rows. I’m pretty sure I still have that patchy first square somewhere. It was the start of something.
My relationship with knitting has been very off and on since then. Sometimes, I would love it, endeavouring to learn new stitches, acquire new needles and attempt new projects. I’ve made multiple hats and attempted scarves, and made little flowers and tops. Other times, I’d leave the whole thing for years – after all, knitting wasn’t really cool for a teenager to be doing until the pandemic. More recently, cousins having babies and my attempts to make baby hats have been more of a regular motivation to start knitting again for a period. Because whilst the hats (of varying quality, I’ll be honest) provide suitable motivation, I find it hard to find the next project after that, to keep myself interested in knitting.
Particularly over the pandemic, I discovered an interest in a range of different types of crafts. I took up flower pressing, sewing, pottery (just about), knitting, collaging and considered many more. However, although I enjoyed the initial preparation and even the doing, the problem always came after. I’d be left with some item I’d created. The problem wasn’t how good or bad the item was, it was more that there was now an additional item in my life. I didn’t want a collection of flower-pressed bookmarks, or quirky shaped bowls from multi-coloured clay. I needed to be able to get rid of the item too, not creating an inventory that would fill up my life. I slowly realised this was the bit I disliked most, and unfortunately, that slowed down my enthusiasm for crafts. I wanted to do the craft as long as it wouldn’t make anything, but because that didn’t happen, I just stopped the craft.
But life without craft is boring (as should be the adage). I did keep up with the flower pressing, mainly because as a craft, it was one of the easier ones to give away. Arrange them nicely on a card and then I could write something to send off, never to see it again. I’m sure some of the designs I was proud of at the time, but better for me if they existed in someone else’s home rather than mine. So the hack to craft became working out a way to ensure I could give the item away at the end. Which is where the dodgy baby hats came in.
Having an end goal and another person to send the hat to meant I could take up knitting, no longer feeling like I was filling my life with clutter. Sure, I was filling up someone else’s life with it, but as long as it wasn’t mine. Yet through the process, I realised there was something about doing the craft that I enjoyed, regardless of where the finished item ended up. Knitting is repetitive, methodical, and probably deeply logical. It’s soothing and predictable – doing the same action over and over, only needing half your brain once you get into the flow. I think this is partly what meditation is – allowing your head to zone out for long enough that it gets a bit of a rest from the constant overthinking. It feels good for me to knit for a bit.
Although there are yet more baby hats to be knitted, I’ve decided that my choice to knit shouldn’t depend solely on these future babies. I’ve started a project that will, in the end, create a final item. It’s got lots of shorter-term parts to it, so if I do need a break from it for a while, I can take it without losing my place or ruining the whole thing. But, I think because it’s a bigger thing, it will take me longer and maybe in my head that will be a more worthwhile final item. It’s a jumper, and the pattern I’m vaguely following is made up of many different squares. However, due to knitting superstitions, I can’t intend to give it away – it really does have to be for me. Apparently, if you make a jumper for a partner, they will leave you before the project finishes. I don’t know if that’s true or if it applies to other relationships. So, I’ve decided not to risk it. I’m making myself a jumper. I will wear it and it will live in my drawers. It will take up space. And it will be great.
Writing about my hobbies feels like a part of overcoming cringe for me, so you might want to read about that. Or, you might be interested in another of my favourites – plants.
Rebekah's Ramblings 