WIPs, DIPs and Stashes...Oh My!

 

1/4 of my Craft Room

If you are like me, then you have many WIPs (works in progress.  It isn't something we plan, but yarn and patterns are so seductive that we are always downloading patterns and buying yarn.

This drawer of mine is actually DIPs (designs in progress).  I also have IIPs (ideas in progress), and the two of them take up three drawers and a storage container.

Each of these bags contains a moment that sparked a design idea; some have evolved into designs, and others I am holding space for to grow.

You can also see my sock and worsted-weight yarn containers.  I have an extensive collection of yarn, and it is organized by weight for easy retrieval.

This is why I needed a room for all my crafts.  

Sometimes I wonder how I got here.  I mean, I know I always take in yarn when people are going through their stashes.  I've stopped doing that.  I send it to the prisons or places that need yarn.  

I used to get paid in yarn to help people out, so I have a lot from my teaching days.  I picked out each one because I loved a particular color or texture.

When someone requested a design, I often didn't have the right yarn, so I had to buy the correct color or weight.  I always bought a little extra, just in case... You know how it is.

I used to see all this as guilt for buying yarn when I had so much, guilt for not making projects from the patterns I purchased, and guilt for taking up so much space.

When my biochemistry was off and anxiety was my primary emotion, I tried to make myself smaller so I could reach into myself to search for my own voice.  For three months, I could not hear my own thoughts unless I was distracted from the anxiety.

My yarn became a solace that I could wrap myself in, and sometimes I had actual moments of calm.  My therapist was amazed I had lasted so long, and I attribute it to the love and support of my family and friends, my desire to fight and get better, meditation, and my yarn.

In my state, knitting was almost impossible, so I turned to crocheting.  I made scarves for the homeless and loved the feel and color of the yarn.  My therapist said I must use tactile means as one of my calming methods, and she was right.  

Over the course of those three months, I made twelve scarves.  As everything worsened, it became harder to crochet, but I persevered. As soon as I met my therapist, I knew I wanted to knit her something with lace, because she let the light back into me.  She had given me hope, and that was so precious.

Initially, as I was healing, my son would read the pattern to me, and I would slowly make the stitches.  He was so kind and patient with me, as was my daughter. Honestly, I am blessed.  However, as time passed, I was able to knit and follow a pattern again, and it brought me immense joy.

I finished the scarf that was half knitted despite anxiety, and then half knitted with an absence of anxiety.  The story was in every stitch, and when I gave it to my therapist, she hugged me.  Everything had come full circle.  She had kept her promise to "fix" me.  I was whole in a way I cannot truly put into words.

So now, when I look at these WIPs, DIPs, and IIPs, I see a community of fibers that were there for me when I could hardly be there for myself.  They are diverse and beautiful, like my friends and family.  The simple act of crafting had been a meditation for my soul all these years, and I never knew what a profound effect it had on my self-care.

There is no guilt.  There never should have been.  I should have seen each ball or skien as a seedling waiting for its time in the sun.  The yarn is patient; it would not want me to feel guilty, so I don't.

Happy Crafting!

Bright Blessings,

Ruinwen