Back at it again and why

So, instead of constantly composing blog entries in my head and never actually entering them, I'm going to try this blogging thing again.

I make an effort to knit every day.  Why not write about it?  Why do I knit? Honestly, for my mental health.  I need to create every day.  I need to use my hands.  The patterning and repetition lends comfort and reduces my stress.  There have been so many studies and articles published on how beneficial knitting is to one's health.  I agree wholeheartedly with that notion.

My Mum, who was a very accomplished knitter and crocheter and taught me to knit, passed away last year after a two year "battle" with lung cancer.  When we found out that she was sick, I turned to my needles for comfort.  At times I wish I could have just stabbed something with those needles, but I didn't.  I created.  I developed a need to knit.  A drive to knit.  Mum lived a 5 hour car trip away.  If I wasn't driving, I was knitting.  It helped to focus the anxiety and the panic of what was inevitable.  Much of what I knitted was frogged.  The process of knitting was tantamount to any resulting product.  It helped to keep me focused, calm, and, most importantly, I think that it gave me a sense of control.  When someone you love is sick and you can't do anything to make it go away, you have a need to have some sense of control.  For some, it's keeping an immaculate house (not me), for others, it's becoming an organizer or tossing themselves into their work (again, not me).  For me, it was honing my skills as a knitter.  I went through phases of focusing on types of stitches.  Cables, then wraps, then lace. And I'd take my knitting everywhere with me.

My Mum couldn't knit when she was at her worst.  The pain in her left side from the cancer made it difficult to hold the needles. I so wish that we could have knit together.  I so wish that she could have gained as much comfort from knitting as I do.

I miss my Mum.  Every day.  I desperately try to find comfort in the sense that creating something from some string and a couple of sticks is a gift that she has given me.  And now I have taught my 10-year-old son to knit.  Neither of us have the speed and consistency in our stitches that my Mum had, but she leaves us with something to inspire to.  And that is a wonderful gift.