i’d knit that—confessions of a knit whore.

I’ve always been a super creative person, but I’ve never really felt crafty. Sure, I learned to sew when I was younger (with my mom aspiring to be a fashion designer in her younger days, it was bound to happen) and can do such things. It usually ends up as a total disaster (anything involving me and a sewing machine, for sure) or a phase that passes after I’ve invested hundreds of dollars in materials and supplies that I’ll never get rid of and never use again (I get that from my mom, too).

But my knitting obsession starts from a whole different story.

I dated a guy several years back who was much older than me. His mother had passed away not long before we met, and it didn’t take long for me to realize that the candle he was holding for a love lost was for her. He always talked about how much she would have loved me and was always trying to give me things that belonged to her—”she would have wanted you to have this, and I know you’ll cherish it.” So one day, he gave me a ball of yarn and a pair of knitting needles that were hers. “You’re crafty, I figured you’d appreciate this.”

I didn’t.

What he didn’t know was that all of my previous attempts at learning to knit fell into the aforementioned “disaster” category, alongside the fact that it fucking sucked. I hated it. I was an avid crocheter. Why would anyone try to make something with two needles when they could use one? Knitting seemed utterly stupid to me. I graciously accepted the gift and tucked it away with the collection of never-to-be-used-again supplies. And I forgot all about it.

Until we broke up.

We had broken up on my 30th birthday, in what was maybe a little overreaction on my part to the fact that he got mad that I didn’t invite him along to join in on the surprise visit my entire family paid me, and therefore pouted the whole weekend and then sent me a text wishing me happy birthday. A text, people. We had been dating for nearly two years! So I broke down crying in the shower and left with my family that afternoon when they departed.

Okay, so I totally overreacted. And maybe it was more than just the text I was upset about. Nothing about our relationship felt right at that point and I knew it had to end. Even so, that day kicked off the longest and most awkward breakup in the history of the world my life.

Eight months later, Christmas rolled around, and he sent a box full of presents for Alissa, my parents and their dog. He also knew that I was basically broke and sent me a check and asked me to do something nice for myself with it (I’m pretty sure I used it to buy everyone else Christmas gifts). I thought it was weird. Really weird. But I was gracious and thanked him.

A week or so after that, I got a call from him. He was upset. Not only was he upset, he was upset that I didn’t give him a Christmas gift. Now I had already thought it was weird that he gave us stuff, but I thought it was even weirder that he expected me to reciprocate. “You sent nothing. Not even so much as a card.” I was living with my parents without a pot to piss in and he wanted a Christmas card. “I swear, you are completely devoid of sentiment.”

Whoa. Clearly he hadn’t seen the boxes and boxes of stuff I can’t get rid of because each item within held just a smidgen of sentiment. Which ironic because at that point, said boxes were stored in his basement.

That comment hit a nerve. And I immediately went digging through the few boxes I had brought with me to my folks’ house and found what I was looking for: the yarn and knitting needles that had belonged to his mother. His birthday was coming up and I asked my mom to re-teach me how to knit so that I could make my ex-boyfriend a birthday gift with the yarn that belonged to his mother. That’ll show him some sentiment.

I may very well be the only person in the history of the world who has learned to knit out of spite.

But this, my third or fourth attempt at trying my hand at knitting, I discovered that I actually liked it. In fact, I loved it. As soon as I finished the scarf (which I sent to him with a note that said, “Happy birthday. Knitted for you from your mother’s yarn. How’s that for sentiment?” Never underestimate the power of a woman scorned), I started digging through books to find more stuff to knit. Sweaters. Socks. Coffee sleeves. Scarves. Alissa had me knitting accessories for her teddy bear, and I gladly obliged. Friends were having babies. They all had fresh hats and booties. My photographer friends all got custom knitted newborn props. When I ran out of yarn, I figured out how to deconstruct a sweater and knit it into a new one.

Now I seem to be constantly knitting something. I may or may not spend more on knitting supplies than I do on groceries some months. I have projects I buy from Craftsy and work through them while I watch TV at night. I’ve taught friends to knit and have become a regular at all of my local yarn shops (and a few far and away too). I am constantly studying patterns of sweaters and scarves other people wear so I can make my own.

Turns out, knitting is good for your health. And here I thought it was just a hobby taken up out of spite.

If you’re interested in purchasing any of my knit creations, please visit my Etsy shop.