Stitch By Stitch: How Learning to Knit Taught Me to Accept Myself

Knit Purl. Knit Purl. A basic rhythm of the craft, like the beat of a heart. Any colour, take your pick! This project is all decided by you. Grab some needles. What size? It depends on how large you want the stitches in the project to be. Do you knit tight or lose? Ignore how fast your heart beats in your chest and just let that familiar rhythm take over. Knit Purl. Knit Purl. Now that feels better. It’s not something we do all the time, but we can do it now. It gives your restless fingers something to hold.

When I first learned how to knit, I wasn’t hooked. I don’t think having to miss recess because of it helped. In my elementary school, an older teacher was kind enough to run a knitting club sometimes during our first break. I don’t know why I joined at first, but I managed to get the hang of that simple knit stitch before anyone else. It wasn’t until years after that I decided to pick up the hobby again. Every year, my school would host a fundraiser selling plants and handmade items. I thought that finally, I should attempt to make something for this sale. So, I found some yarn and needles that were lying around and got to work. I decided on trying a pattern of a simple monster toy. I spent all year making these toys until I had an incredibly large pile of them in my room. Soon, the day of the sale came, and it was time to find out if all my work had been worth it. Throughout the day, all the toys were sold, and they were a huge hit! My love for the hobby only grew from there.

However, I became insecure about this “character-defining” trait I had picked up. This hobby became what I turn to in my free time so naturally, my family latched on to it for gifts and ways to describe me. Some weren’t as kind such as my sister disapproving of me spending all my time doing something that she didn’t deem as acceptable. My sister has always felt that her idea of normal was universal and that anyone who acted out of that was strange. For many years, I struggled with her constant judgement, just wanting to please her so maybe she could become nicer, but I didn’t want to change myself this time. I finally found something that calmed my wondering mind, so I refused to let it be taken from my grasp. This didn’t stop my shame though. I fought hard to let people know about my other hobbies: singing, acting, and writing. I wanted others to see me as more than just a homebody destined to become an old maid.

One day, I realized that having this hobby as a part of me wasn’t something I should try to hide. Anyone who I told or showed what I made was shocked but impressed seeing what I could do. People liked my talent and didn’t look down on me because of it. Even if someone did make fun of me about it, I just tried to remember that normal is not the ideal. If everyone fits into this concept of normal, then we would have no innovation, no creativity, and no fun. Most people don’t realize that the celebrities they idolize now were once high school theatre kids being teased for liking to perform. You can’t be great until you break the boundaries society has set up. In my high school, all are art classes shrank as I went through the different grades. I think this is because society has beat into us that art can never lead to a socially acceptable life. But I see my arts as the things that are going to put me ahead of people with that attitude.

So now, as I grow, I try my best to listen to my unique interests and not what the world around me is shouting because I was stitched together by an amazing creator. He picked out my yarn colour, the needle size, and what I would become. He added some ribbed stitches, some purl, even a cable stitch. I am his project that he’s left for me to finish, and I work on it a little more every day.