I love this post!
I learned to knit when I was in long-term residential treatment. The joke was that anybody who stayed past the initial six week evaluation period either took up smoking or knitting, and I’ve never liked smoking.
Knitting helps me control compulsive skin picking and hair pulling. When I’m stressed, scared, or even bored, I pick or pull. Having knitting in my hands lets me get that energy out of my fingers without doing something self-destructive–it’s actually productive!
It also helps me feel connected to people I care about. There are a lot of days when I feel isolated, lonely, and unlikable. Knitting for someone else makes me remember why I like the recipient enough to give them something I may have spent dozens of hours making. I remember why I love them, and I imagine how happy they’ll be when they receive the finished project. It rekindles the connection to people I love and who love me.
By Heather Buchler
My grandfather had a woollen mill, and the whole family knitted – my mother and her four sisters, her mother, and also my grandfather. If anyone called around to visit while he was knitting, he would quickly hide his work under a cushion. My mother taught me to knit when I was five years old. I still have the fair-isle bonnet that I did when I was about seven. It looks pretty lame, but it reminds me of what I could do then. I knitted obsessively all through my childhood, adolescence and young adult years, and then I took a big break from it when other things took over.
I picked it up again during the throes of benzo withdrawal, on the urging of a friend. When I found myself very ill and traumatised, I needed something to fill in my days besides colouring in kids’s…
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