Knitting As Therapy

So it's taken me about a year, but I've finally finished my first ever knitting project, which I began in Milwaukee last October. The awesome object you see hanging out on my head is my scarf-turned-slouchy hat.


Originally, I began knitting at a time when things were tough for my family in Milwaukee. Last year around this time, my grandmother spent many months in and out of the hospital, following an unsuccesful heart surgery. I flew home in October and helped out by staying at the hospital with her, as the Russian - English translator for the doctors and support and company for her. I decided to take up knitting to pass the time, as she mostly slept throughout the days. One of my mother's piano students, a teacher and expert knitter by the name of Rebecca, sat down with me and patiently showed me how to cast on stitches, then how to maneuver the knit and the purl stitch.

It was a bittersweet Autumn; spending time with my family in Milwaukee and being back home was amazing, while the inevitable situation with my grandma Ida was pressing and terribly hard on all of us. I found comfort in slowly working on my architecture portfolio, practicing yoga, spending time with my grandpa [the funniest and most upbeat individual I've come across in my entire life] visiting local firms whose work I admired, hanging out with friends from high school, drinking way too many cappuccinos at Alterra, and taking walks with my mom and Hadley in the autumn leaves. And knitting at the hospital. Often making mistakes, even starting this scarf-hat over a few times.

My grandma passed away in early February of this year. Tragically, and completely unexpectedly, my uncle, her only son, died suddenly of a heart attack six weeks before this. To even attempt to write about the sentiments and feelings my family has been experiencing wouldn't explain the half of it.

But strangely, as I reflect on last year's events, I can honestly say that knitting helped me; emotionally, it taught me, like yoga, to be more patient and introspective, and less hard on myself. Apparently making stitching mistakes is actually really really good for detail-oriented perfectionists like myself. Go figure. This may come across contrived, but it truly did change me. And even with the uneven stitches, the random switching of pattern and the occassional hole, I am going to wear my hat proudly, as I am doing today, and will be until California becomes too warm for one again.