Sometimes When You Knit, Something Cool Comes From It

Months ago when I found out my friend was expecting her first, I knew I needed to knit her something special. Mostly because I had literally just learned the art of knitting and it seemed like a special gift to give.

I eventually found what I wanted to create. It was perfect and cute and I know this friend would LOVE it. What I didn't have the knowledge to know at the time was, this was going to take forever. No joke. Maybe making a big project in the midst of getting ready to move/prepping for a vacation next week wasn't the smartest choice. But I had to stick to my guns and finish what I started (AKA I had already bought the yarn).

Knitting As a New Knitter 

While I gloat all over this blog about how I am so good at knitting while I'm still under a year mark of when I started, I am not as talented as I make you think. Don't get me wrong, I GET A LOT OF HELP. I don't just "figure it out" and trying to learn via YouTube feels almost impossible. So all of my finished projects basically need an asterisk next to it, with the name Jennifer next to it. She's the one that bought me my so-called "starter kit" for knitting last year and has been with me every step of the way. I literally would be in the middle of all of the projects I've finished if she wasn't nearby to rescue me. 

I've noticed I'm a kinesthetic learner, meaning I need to physically do it to learn it. So my friend telling me through a text the steps I need to take to do this section... yah. That won't resonate.  When I move to Scotland, it'll become very interesting on what I can remember and do on my own. Wish me luck knitters.

Cruising right along

I think there is also a naive side to being a new knitter. I can't grasp what projects are harder than others — that is until I start one and realize I don't know 50% of the terms. I think there is this idea that once you know how to knit, you are good to go. But there is so much more to know. It's never ending.

So... What Did I Make? 

After three months of knitting (obviously on the side... if this was my full-time job, it would have been done much faster), I was able to complete a sheep baby blanket. I chose a gold thread since they are not finding out the sex of the baby. It really turned out! I was shocked. You just spend so much time knitting and changing from one yarn to the other, learning how to add in the feet and heads, blocking, tying in loose ends, etc etc etc. Somehow I ended up with several stitches more I started with, but luckily it's not noticeable. It's as close to a perfect square as I know how, and blocking really helped bring it all together. I was going to put a back on it but I'm running out of time, and it seems a bit trickier than I imagined. 

I did finally give the blanket to my friend at her shower this past Saturday. I'm pretty sure she at least liked it and appreciated the time and effort it took to create such a thing. Her mom asked how long I have been knitting and seemed shocked that it hasn't been a year. I think the most common response I get when I show people the blanket is: "Can you make me one?" and my answer is always yes. I loved working on this. I loved doing something special for someone special. I like the busy work of knitting, and the patterns you can create by doing something with yarn in a certain way. 

So, without further ado (and the first time using a slideshow tool — I promise I'll get better!) here's what I made: 

Love, 
A

 

When Part of Your Identity Changes

As long as I can remember, I've always had a lot of hair. I'm pretty sure I stole it from my sister in the womb, or at least that's what we joke about. My basic description was always: Frizzy, wavy, poufy. I had no way to control it. If we had swimming for gym, it wouldn't dry until the end of the day. If I blow dried it, POUF. If I air dried it POUF POUF. If I slept on it... you guessed it. I yearned to control it. I desired to know how people had hair that was beautiful. I remember someone at a salon telling me that if I used this John Freda styling product, it'd help me. It didn't. I was convinced that I would always have awful, unruly hair. This was the fate I was given.

Then one day, someone introduced a flat iron to me. It was a game changer.

That, paired with my braces coming off and contacts being obtained, gave me a complete boost in self-confidence. It was magic. Sure, I couldn't curl my hair to save my life, but now I could manage it and make it look normal. It was heaven. But nothing ever lasts, does it?

I don't remember the last time I used my straightener as a straightener. I only use it to put a little bit of a curl in my hair. I panic when I am on a "no shower" day, since washing your hair every day is bad news. I use so much dry shampoo and volumizer that I'm wondering if it's even helping or actually harming. I look into a mirror and notice all the spots where I can see my scalp when my hair is up. Folks, somehow, someway, my thick hair is no more. And it's devastating.

It sounds silly. Maybe it doesn't, but I've definitely been made to feel like this problem is, indeed, silly. And it is ironic. The girl who complained about her thick hair is now complaining about her thin hair. Once I was old enough and found the right tools to tame my hair, I loved my hair. It was long, it was healthy, I could put it up or down and it'd look full — always. My friend could braid two buns and it looked great. It has probably been the thing that I've liked most about myself consistently. I've always received compliments and every salon stylist tells me how much hair I have when I color it. To me, that's a compliment. To them, it's probably annoying because they have so much more hair to color than they originally thought.

Trying to tame the mane before royalty duties

So what's the problem? Why am I sitting here in distress over something as minor as hair? Well, when you've come to have your hair as a descriptor of your identity, you feel incredibly vulnerable and insecure when it's no longer there. If I don't have my hair, what do I have? Believe me, I know I have a lot more to who I am than my hair, but that's a question that swirls around in my mind.

The funny part is, no one notices. Not really anyway. I've had some friends run their hands through my hair and that's kind of when people are taken aback. "WOAH" is a common response. And I used to think that maybe my hair wasn't thinning, maybe it was all in my head. But now, I would say it's a problem. I mean, I'm not balding. I don't have large areas where hair has fallen out, but I do know myself and my hair and know something is off.

Sadly, the answers I've been given are lackluster at best. "You're just getting old." Basically a direct quote from my gynecologist. I'm sorry, but since when is 30 old? And since when is dramatic hair loss/thinning (not entirely sure which one it's considered as) normal in the span of a few years? I've also been told that there could be a million different reasons as to why this is happening, and it's almost impossible to find out what the true cause is. That's also a frustrating answer to hear. Something that feels as dramatic as this must have an answer. It just doesn't fall out. I mean it could be genetic, but I feel like it's my body trying to tell me something, I just can't speak the language.

I've really noticed this was a problem since January of 2014. Wedding planning had some incredibly stressful moments, which I'm sure took a toll. But that stress is long gone. Yes, I'm moving to Scotland, but that isn't a daily stressor for me. It might have started in the stress department, but it seems to be continuing through a different channel. I also know that I started taking birth control at that same time. I've already tried switching kinds, to no avail. I ordered Ovation Hair Therapy. That just made my hair grow longer, making the need to color it that much sooner.

What are my answers? Well, luckily I've been in contact with a wonderful dermatologist who is doing some blood work to see if we can find the cause. She said it could simply be that I'm deficient in iron. But what I loved most about her was that she was willing to dig, even if a little. It could come back that this is just something that is happening and I'm going to have to buck up and learn how to take care of thin hair. But at least having that as an answer, is an answer. I'm sure the stress of my hair situation isn't helping. Stressing about the stress that's causing my hair to thin? How ironic!

I know this blog isn't helpful, doesn't give any advice about anything, but it still lives true to its name. I'm being honest about something that has given me bad dreams, caused me to cry way more than I should, even caused my husband some concern. He knows how much it distracts me.

Time will tell. I know that I will pick myself up whenever I get any kind of answer, and learn to be a person who has thin hair. I won't die. It's not the end of the world. I'm not going to be a different person. But I'll feel different. It'll still be something that I have lost that I never intended to lose. I also know that I'm not alone in feeling like this towards something. 

Here's a nice little bonus picture of the most regretted photo of me of all time. It's a church directory photo and my mom told me she liked when my hair looked big. Whelp, it's big alright... 

Enjoy that. Oye. So rough. 

Always, 

A