What does it mean to put yourself or in my case, knit yourself back together. I’ve said this many times, but this time it’s true. I’ve had to deal with quite a bit the last three plus years and even longer. My family has dealt with loss upon loss, cancer, cross country moves, Covid and even the murder of a loved one right as Covid began in 2020. Knitting or crafting in general is one thing in a sea of things that has carried me through the last few years. Way back in 2020, I grasped on to new hobbies hoping they would save me, one by one. I picked up spinning again, bought a table loom, bought fleeces, bought combs and cards to process those fleeces, and tried, tried, tried. I’d hit a road block, such as being unable to figure out how to comb long curly Coopsworth wool fleece, and give up. Then I’d try again, dyeing said fibers and finally, finally weaving them into a rug using a peg loom. Was it pretty? Not exactly, but I learned!
In 2021 a generous woman who I had sold my mother’s table loom to gave it back – and refused to take money for it. Then I found a Schact Wolf Loom for dirt cheap on Facebook leaving me with one rigid heddle loom, one tapestry loom, two table looms and one floor loom. I purchased a warping board off Facebook marketplace but I never received the screws that went along with it. I went to the hardware store and made do. I couldn’t figure out how to warp it and wasted tons of yarn in the many attempts I made. Two weeks ago, I took a class online and have wound my third warp since then.
I bought a merino fleece and couldn’t figure out how to clean it properly. In 2022, I took not one, but three classes on how to prep a fleece. In 2023, it finally clicked and I’m still working through a Tunis fleece I started processing in March. Wash, comb, spin, ply, repeat.
When I was little, my mother tried to teach me to crochet. I’ve never been the type to learn by listening. I have to figure things out on my own. She got frustrated and gave up, leaving me home with my grandmother for the weekend. When she returned, I had crocheted a set of slippers. Then she really got frustrated!!! I never really learned to crochet properly but I spent a month last year in New York attending the murder trial of my family member. Knitting needles were expressly forbidden and enforced so I learned to crochet again. I made close to fifty sunflowers and even wound up making a stuffed pokemon for each of my kids. Not too bad if I say so myself.
In February, after the second trial ended in conviction, I broke down. I fell apart. I went out on FMLA and couldn’t find the energy to knit, to spin, to think or hardly to breathe. I cared for myself, my kids and my life as best as I could. It was hard and painful. I attended the sentencing and said goodbye to my life back in New York, one final time. Every time I say it’s the last time. I said goodbye to the loved one I never got to bury and to the memories, good and bad. I walked away at the end, driving slowly and stopping frequently, hoping my mind would come back to me.
March and April passed. May and June. July is here and I’m in full craft mode. I’m trying to find the balance again, between family, work and the projects that call to me. I’m knitting a scarf, a pair of socks, spinning and prepping Tunis wool fiber for a potential sweater, and have a warp ready to hit the loom. You can indeed knit yourself together again. I have. I am still.
Knitwerks 