On Knitting, Patience, and Perseverance

Let me just begin by saying this: If I can knit, so can you. So can anyone in the world. You non-knitters are without excuse.

Knitting is one of my favorite hobbies… it’s what I do to relax and unwind when I’m frazzled, when I’m waiting for kids, when I’m visiting with friends… I’ve found it comforting to have something to do with my hands while I am sitting and to be making something even when I’m still. And it took me a long time to get here.

The only reason I am able to knit though is because of patience and perseverance; two qualities that are not abundant in character make-up, but I’m trying! Knitting is proving to be not only beneficial in providing me with a sustainable, uniquely personal wardrobe, but helping me be a better person (maybe??).

I “learned” to knit for twenty years. Again and again. When I was a child, every time I would spend the night at my grandparents’ houses I would ask whichever grandmother I was with to please teach me to knit. And they would- happily sitting down with me, patiently showing me how to cast on and do a knit stitch. I would cast on dozens of stitches, loving that rhythm, determined to get it. Possibly I could maybe knit a couple of rows and then- that was it. I never got any farther than that. Every time, year after year, my brain just couldn’t wrap itself around knitting.

This fruitless cycle continued for about ten years, interspersed with sewing lessons, crochet instruction, baking and cooking lessons (all of which I was able to pick up with much more ease than knitting- why was that?!). Knitting could never stick with me. And I wanted to learn how to do it. I was determined for some odd, irrational reason to learn how to knit.

By college I could at least muddle through some crocheting, making the most basic of hats. Maybe it was the yarn that I loved? That texture, that endless piece of string that I wanted to turn into something functional… maybe it was that part of me that wanted to create. I wasn’t a fiber artist. I would draw and paint, sometimes try to sew clothing, but I’m still not sure what it was that made me want to learn knitting so badly.

Any opportunity I had to sign up for a knitting class, I would. I would sit in anticipation with my worsted acrylic yarn and double pointed needles, cast on a dozen or so stitches, knit maybe five rows, maybe even get to ten, and then my brain would just stop there. That was it. Week after week, lesson after lesson, year after year. I honesty don’t know why I could not knit anything- not a scarf, not even a little potholder or square. It was ridiculous.

And, I don’t know why either, I never gave up. I just could not declare that knitting was not for me. Maybe it was stubbornness? I like to think it was perseverance.

At some point in my late twenties, with three little people at home, I signed up for yet another knitting class- a color work mitten. (I still have the one and a half-finished mittens at home in my basket… I’ve since lost the pattern, but I should try to finish that, right??) But for some reason in that class, with that mitten, something finally started to connect with my brain and my hands in my knitting. Maybe it was the knit-purling in the round? The smaller project started? Maybe I liked my wool yarn a lot better? Whatever the case, I found myself truly and actually knitting.

I was thankful for the help of my friend who was teaching, to help me fix my many mistakes. She set me back on track each time. I plugged away at it until the 8-week class was finished and at the end of it all, I had one and a half snowflake mittens. Even that didn’t discourage me, that half-finished mustard colored mitten. I was just so happy to be understanding what I was doing, to be finally connecting my brain and my hands.

Feeling encouraged, I tried knitting a small sweater for one of my girls and I was pleased to know that knitting continued to make sense to me. I still only stuck to one color, knitting as much as I could and only purling when necessary, but I did it. I knew nothing of gauge swatches, long-tail cast on (or any other cast on methods), short rows…. I couldn’t put together that I was a loose knitter and all of my finished garments were massively larger than they should have been. I was just happy to be making.

Years later, after a few toddler sweaters, vests, and slippers, a friend and I decided that we wanted to knit an adult sweater. A color work adult sweater no less. And so we did.

We decided to try the Mountain Mist sweater from TinCanKnits. Once a week, for an hour or two we would work on our sweaters together.

I think that sitting down with a friend who was at the same skill level, holding each other accountable to keep on trying with this pattern, coming back to share the mistakes we made in hopes that the other one could avoid them, that was all key in successfully knitting our sweaters. We also had lots of lovely women, experienced knitters, that we could call on when we dropped a stitch or couldn’t make heads or tails of the instructions.

It felt like it took forever, but after eighteen years of trying to really learn how to knit, I actually knit myself a sweater. It is so wonky and full of mistakes (learning to pick up stitches for sleeves was an adventure!), but I wear that sweater all the time. I love it. Knitting that sweater made me feel like I could do anything.

And that was really it- I am now completely hooked on knitting. My knitting wish-list is a mile long. I love color work; I appreciate the rhythm of the those repetitive sequences. I want to challenge myself further in knitting, trying lace work, cables, socks, mittens, vests…

One of my knitting goals is to design a fair isle sweater for myself- to come up with my own motif and colors…. I don’t feel that I’m quite there yet, but am giving myself one more year to work up the nerve.

I’m so glad I never gave up after the first fail, or the second or the eighteenth. I still make so many mistakes. I have had to rip out entire sweaters. I will knit and forget to increase on sweater necklines. I’ve not checked my knitting gauge and had the sleeves sprouting out at stomach level.

However, I love the learning process that comes with each mistake. I can still get frustrated and have to walk away from my project for a bit but I learn to look for those mistakes the next time around. Or the third.

And, this may sound super cheesy but it’s the truth, is that one of the things that makes me the happiest in my knitting adventures is seeing others be inspired to knit. Those friends who have heard me say, “If I can knit a sweater, so can you” have tried it and succeeded. Something that seems so daunting and unattainable looking at a fair isle sweater, becomes doable all of a sudden. And that makes me so very happy, not to mention that I have a lot more people who want to sit and knit over a cup of tea with me now.