When I was little, I asked my mum for a knitting set. I can’t remember why I deviated away from my usual Enid Blyton books. I just remember that I did. I also remember not knowing what to do with it once I had it. Nor was there anybody at home who could teach me. Needles (intentional typo) to say – the set was relegated to the back of my wardrobe and eventually to the local jumble sale..
Fast forward a couple of years to primary school *twitch* to where knitting was compulsory. Sadly, any interest I had in learning the craft was over-shadowed by my debilitating anxiety..
Our first task was to knit a hat or mittens. We got to choose which so I chose the mittens. The other children were able to get on with their knitting but my brain wouldn’t retain the information on the paper in front of me and I was too embarrassed to admit that I didn’t always understand the instructions and I was too anxious to ask for help.
I understand now that it’s virtually impossible to learn a new skill when overwhelmed with anxiety. But in those days nobody knew that I was autistic. Not even me.
Eventually the weeks passed and we moved onto needlework. More needles! Oh. Joy.
This time I ended up being made to stand on my chair as one of the more sadistic teachers ripped my work to shreads (literally) in front of the entire class. Not for the first time in my life, I was humiliated. And it wouldn’t be the last time either. It was, however, the last time that I would be obliged to knit or sew as those crafts would become optional in high school.
On the negative side, metal and wood work were compulsory and I was shit at those too. 😦
Ten years later, my mother-in-law encouraged me to try knitting again and soon we spent many a happy hour knitting and nattering. It’s thanks to her that I was able to fall in love with the craft and overwrite those horrible memories of school.
40 years on from scholae horribilis, I can whip up a scarf or even a jumper as long as it involves the words ‘easy knit’ on the pattern. However, the problem with easy knitting is that it can be done on auto-pilot which means that there is plenty of room for Captain Crazy and the Psycho Platoon to march into my mind.
Knit. Knit. Knit. What’s that pain in my chest? Knit. Knit. Knit. What if I have a heart attack? Knit. Knit. Knit. What if the door is locked and the paramedics can’t get in? Checks tension. What if I can’t reach my phone? Knit. Knit. Knit. Is that asprin is in date..
You get me?
I figured I needed to challenge my brain, but patterns freak me out as numbers and sequencing = vacant face, though the common term is Dyscalulia.
The good news is that I was blessed with a stubborn-arse streak as well as my autistic brain. So last week I found myself sauntering (I don’t saunter, but I like the word) over to the cash desk in the local craft shop clutching two balls of wool and a pattern for a fairilse hat. Yes, fairilse. When I go for it, I really go for it!
Long story short: it took me TWO DAYS (and much effings) to complete ONE INCH of effing fairisle, and that includes unpicking the effing thing SIX EFFING TIMES!!
The only way I could do the pattern was to write it down on note paper in a way that my frazzled brain can cope with. For instance, the pattern is twelves stitches (repeated) so I broke it down into three lots of four and ticked them off as I went along. I also have a stitch counter which is veeeeery stimmy. *drools*
Doing the pattern was time consuming but I was TOTALLY engrossed in what I was doing – therefore – no room for anxious thoughts. It means that the cycle of crazy thoughts was broken and that can only be a good thing. 🙂
For me, knitting is a very sensory experience and when done in a relaxed manner, it can be very beneficial to our health as well as our wardrobe. And it’s stimmy. While I’m click-clacking with my needles, I am not picking the skin off my lips. Or scabs off my skin. I know. I’m grotty innit?
I also like the different colours of the yarns because I am a colour freak. Me and colour is like tin foil to a cat! I recently had to prompt myself to move from in front of the Sirdar multi-coloured range as I was starting to drool. That, and the owner of the shop was giving me a funny look..
I especially love those yarns that change colour. It’s almost magical I tell you! But most of all is the sense of achivement in having created something that is not shite. It makes up for never having finished those frickin’ mittens at school. *TWITCH* Or everything else that I was unable to do or complete because of my anxiety.
Knitting won’t cure me of my anxiety because I can’t change the rest of the world to suit me – as amazing as that would be. Anxiety is hardwired into me, along with autism. But I can see how it could cure anxiety in the non-autistic brain so maybe it’s worth digging out those long forgotten needles that have been gathering dust in the back of your wardrobe?
As for the little knitting set that ended up at the jumble sale? Well, I hope it found it’s way into the home (and hands) of a child who created something beautiful with it and that it was the start of a lifetime of creating beautiful things while watching Coronation street or Eastenders. Warms yer heart doesn’t it?
Or it ended up in landfill which is just as likely, but not as heartwarming. 😀
“Properly practiced, knitting soothes the troubled spirit, and it doesn’t hurt the untroubled spirit either.”