The Emotional Connection to Knitting

This is a different kind of blog post. Typically I will write up about a technique, or a pattern, or yarn. But I just haven’t had the capacity the last few months to even knit. And I’m not talking about time, or materials, but the emotional capacity. So, today I want to look at the emotional connection to knitting. I personally experience a strong emotional connection to my knitting. I know others may not, and that’s ok. We’re all different.

I started this summer off with good knitting intentions; Destination Dishcloth was going to be a fun knitting time! Bonus: it was not going to require a lot of work from me because I had previously done the work and was finally getting patterns out that had been sitting on the shelf.

And I did this intentionally knowing some of what the summer was holding or me.

My “Work” Emotions

For 15 and a half years I have worked with an older gentleman (about the same age as my parents). It started out as a business relationship. I would do work for him from my home, and then we would meet and repeat. Then about 13 years ago, he began losing his eyesight. My work became mostly at his home office working side by side with him. I quickly learned that the most important part of the work day was lunch.

Gary lived for lunch. Lunch was the ultimate goal of our work day. Where would we eat? What would we talk about? It was rare for me to come in and not immediately discuss our lunch plans. He liked to eat out, and he paid, so we went out every time we met. We met two to three times a week.

After a couple years, Gary was diagnosed with Parkinson’s and Lewy Body Dementia. My work days increased to three to five days a week. I began putting in his eye drops and my hours were steady, and flexible for when his wife would need to not be at home with him. He began having falls, and lots of appointments and some I would be responsible to take him.

Before I knew it, my “work” was mostly taking care of him.

Extended “Family” Emotions

He has been in assisted living facilities for the past three years, and my work days decreased back down to two to three days a week. And my “work” changed entirely. I would “pretend” work with him the way we always had worked in the past. But my real work was managing his emotions, cleaning his eyes which would just have the most awful gunk pouring out all the time. Putting ointment on all his aches and pains. Massaging his bicep that always hurt. Helping him eat when he couldn’t do it himself.

The days were long, physically and emotionally draining. But in all our lunches together I had come to love him so dearly. In the early days, we would work on the office stuff and sometimes drive out to Cuba, NM to visit his cows. I learned that how you treat a cow is most important. We could walk up to his bulls and heifers and they would eagerly come near waiting to eat treats from our hands and be pet.

Laughter and heated debates filled our lunches. We found ourselves on opposite sides for many a sitcom. How I Met Your Mother: Barney vs. Ted? I’m team Barney, he’s team Ted. Big Bang Theory: Should whistling be allowed? I’m a no, and he’s a yes. Katy Perry vs Britney Spears: I’m team Brit – all the way! And he dared to say Team Katy…

He was an art collector, fly fisherman, golfer, environmentalist, cowman (cowboys don’t know how to treat their cattle), and oil man. He loved music and was always telling me tales of the amazing artist he got to see in Austin in it’s heyday. We would argue, agree, fight and make up over bowls of beans with chile and the best soups at Luigi’s on 4th. But through it all, we loved each other.

Increased Stress and Grief

As time went on, the good days were far and few between. The hard days were nearly everyday. Emotional stress was eating me alive as I walked into his room day after day not knowing what I would find. Mostly an angry man who was feeling abandoned by his wife and me. His physical pain was tremendous and he lost his eyesight, his physical abilities, and his mind. We don’t blame him for having hard days, we love him just the same – but he didn’t feel it because of all he was suffering. And that was hard on our emotions and stress levels.

Gary was given 3-6 months in April. His beloved wife and I were determined. Determined to see him through to the end with as much love, patience and joy as we could bring him. I am so thankful that he remembered me almost to the very end. I have a particular heart warming moment, the last time he knew who I was, I came in his room and he asked “who’s there?” I said “It’s Lois”. And he said “Lo? My sweet, wonderful Lo? Oh how I love my Lo!”.

I am so thankful for each treasured memory. Most of my memories with Gary are mine to keep alone. Our days spent in only each other’s company. And while that was difficult in a way, I think of it now and smile. He loved secrets, and all our memories are mine alone to keep.

Family Emotions

In July, my mother fell. It was right about when Gary forgot who I was. I was thankful for that because I needed to tend to my mother and I didn’t want Gary to miss me. My mom dislocated her right shoulder and shattered her humerus at the shoulder joint, and also broke her right femur at the hip joint. It was a lot and I was running from the hospital with my mom, to assisted living to be with Gary. From skilled nursing with my mom, to assisted living with Gary.

I was actually with my mom at skilled nursing when Gary’s wife called to let me know he passed.

When Gary died, I was surprised by my grief. After all, hadn’t I been grieving this loss for the past few years? And even more these past few months? And yet I found a huge hole in my heart and days that he used to occupy.

But I didn’t have time to focus on it. Caring for my mom was now my top priority.

Then my little family and I all got sick with I believe Covid, though our tests were negative. I lost sense of smell and taste. We were miserable. Covid for me turned to bronchitis and I was sick with this for about a month.

During this time, my son also began having increased health issues. He has yet to be officially diagnosed. And we are working hard to get him the support he needs. Another new place to pour my energy.

Emotional Connection to Knitting

And all the while I’m knitting. I’m knitting the patterns because unfortunately, the patterns weren’t always working out great. Apparently old me and my previous tech editor didn’t really understand how math works. But it’s ok, I thought. Because I was using my new tech editor. We’re doing our best to get things done on time for the knit-a-long!

And I was re-knitting things to take better photos. And it was just a stressful time to be knitting. But I would bring my knitting with me everywhere. To assisted living, the skilled nursing facility. Every appointment and waiting room I had my knitting with me. Every time I got home.

But then I stopped knitting. I couldn’t face the yarn and knitting needles. I looked at them and let them sit. Excuses: I didn’t have time just didn’t make sense. Because I crafted other things and even did craft fairs, but I couldn’t make myself knit.

See, I was knitting when Gary died. And I can’t make myself finish knitting it. I couldn’t get myself to WANT to finish it.

It’s sitting in my car right now half-finished.

Because, for me, knitting isn’t about the completed item. Though, I do love completed items. Knitting is a moment in time. It’s an experience; happy or sad, joyful or full of grief. The yarn sits in my hands while I laugh, while I cry. Each stitch a moment in time filled with hopes, dreams, sorrows and wishes.

Each Stitch Made with Emotions

Ten years ago when my baby died, I crocheted her a blanket for burial. Each stitch made with tears. The blanket, soaked in my grief for her, was lovely in that it was made with so much love and emotion. I finished it because I wanted her to have it.

But this dishcloth I’m knitting now in the middle of all this chaos? Where will it go? Will it wipe tables and clean dishes? Is that what I want to do with all these moments? Every time I pick it up, will I remember?

So, it sits unfinished. A testament to my grieving heart that has not yet finished figuring out life without Gary. The place marker of unfinished while I learn to care for my parents in a new way as they are aging. A big question mark surrounding my son’s health and what will we do next?

What comes next?

I’m in between and my knitting sits unfinished. I feel like we are joined together this half-knit dishcloth and I. And so while I find my way around all this complicated emotions and life, I’m learning to be content to let it also sit.

Apologies for the Summer Knit-A-Long

If you were participating, or trying to participate in my knit-a-long this summer, Destination Dishcloth. I am truly sorry. I’m sorry that I thought I could manage all the things and that the patterns were ready. I should have been more attentive. Should have given my self more space for what I knew was coming. And I should not have overpromised and under-delivered.

Thank you for your kind words through email, and in my Facebook group. I may not have replied because I’ve been kind of a mess, but I did read them and shed some tears when appropriate.

I hope that next summer I can do a knit-a-long that won’t be so chaotic. For now, I’m going to let it be a question of whether or not I do one. Because for now I’m taking care of my parents and my son and that’s enough for today.

Friend Points Out the Emotional Connection to Knitting

So, my good friend, Sarah and I had a chat for the first time since the beginning of summer. Life had some things for both of us to do and so we were content to check in via text. I was thrilled to be able to talk to her, I knew she would encourage me to finish my knit and get this last pattern out. I just KNEW it.

Only she didn’t. She asked me when the last time I had knit any stitches? Why do I need to get it done? If I’ve already apologized to all the KAL-ers and refunded those who paid, does it really need to be finished? Would it be ok for me to just let it sit? Just let it be and instead of forcing myself to knit this ONE thing. Let it go and then allow myself to knit something new?

She had NO idea that her words would make me really think about that knit item and that it would open this flood gate of stress, grief and sorrow and that I would begin weeping over our phone call because I can’t keep knitting this dishcloth. Because I’m not ready for it to be done and become a thing that is used to wash dishes and clean tables. Because right now I need it to just exist and not be finished.

My Friend Challenges My Knitting Forward

So, she challenged me. First, to write a blog post because she knows I enjoy writing blog posts. Second, to put away the knit item that’s not yet done. Third, to let go of my “need” to finish knitting the dishcloth and finish the pattern. Finally, to pick up yarn I love and knit for me. Nothing for any patterns or any reason other than because she knows me and she knows I LOVE to knit.

So, thanks Sarah. Here’s the first thing done. The second and third will happen when I hit publish. And I’m excited for the final one.

And I didn’t do graphics for this post because I just didn’t feel like it. But I promise I won’t stay stuck in this funk forever. I already feel like I’m taking a huge step forward today.