I'm the first person to admit that I have a commitment problem. It's very easy to start off a project with all sorts of energy and excitement, but it quickly peters out. I'm always looking with longing at other projects. Or I get inspired by something and will toss my current project to the side without a second thought.
So when I first got the idea to do this shawl a month project, there was a little voice that said that I wasn't actually going to be able to finish it. Sure, I'd do it for a while, but eventually my nature was going to catch up with me and I'd give up.
But I didn't. I actually didn't. I accomplished what I set out to do. Sure, it was hard. There were times I was ready to burn my projects in frustration. But I pushed myself through. And now I have 8 new shawls in my collection, and 4 that were gifted to people who love them. (Fun fact: I calculated how much yarn went into these 12 shawls and came up with nearly 4.5 miles of yarn...)
Each shawl taught me something about myself, my craft, or about the world itself. And I'd like to share those lessons with you. Starting with this monstrosity.
Orchid Thief, the wooly black hole, taught me to always pay attention to the damn pattern. Read thoroughly and carefully, lest you end up with a giant nightmare. When making changes, CHECK, DOUBLE CHECK, AND TRIPLE CHECK!
Rushing blindly ahead isn't always the best idea. Taking a moment to think about and consider what you're about to do can save you a lot of heartache down the road.
Art and Coffee taught me that just because you hated doing something once doesn't mean that will always be the case.
I had tried a striped shawl before and couldn't get past the first couple rows without getting frustrated. I gave it another go with this one and absolutely adore them now. It's an easy way to get an interesting color combo without having to do tedious color work. I have my 3rd striped shawl on the needles right now, as a matter of fact.
Grey Skies taught me the value of being able to improvise on the fly.
I hit a bit of a roadblock when it came to adding the secondary edging on this shawl. My stitches weren't adding up and I wasn't about to rip everything out to start over. Being skilled enough to improvise a solution and make it work is valuable in all aspects of life and a value that I hold dearly.
With Rainshine I learned that sometimes it IS okay to choose to do a project that you love over everything else.
I had intended to do something completely different that month. Something that should have been done sooner. What it was, I don't even remember. But this yarn had been haunting me and I had to make something with it. So I said fuck it and went for it. And it made me so dang happy to do so. This shawl is definitely one of my favorites for a reason.
Yarn Wife showed me that I have a lot more talent than I think I do.
Striking out and creating your own pattern from scratch is terrifying and challenging in so many different ways. Especially designing lace work. This shawl was my very first completely original design. It's not the most complicated one I've done, but I'm still very proud of myself for doing it and having it come out as well as it did.
Kelp was a hard lesson. I learned that I'm not going to love every single thing I make.
Sometimes, I'm going to make things out of obligation, not out of any true excitement or wanting. And the finished project may be lovely, but it's okay if I don't love it myself.
I always feel enormous pressure to be excited and happy and satisfied with my knitting projects. But that's not always going to be the case. And that's okay. Sometimes you do the things you need to and let them go afterwards without a second thought or regret.
If Kelp taught me that's okay to not like things, Steam Bells definitely taught me that I can also absolutely hate things.
I despise this shawl. I hate everything about it. The yarn. The way the pattern worked up. The frustration and rage I had when I was blocking it and had it rip. It's ugly. It's annoying. And I'm going to happily pass it off to someone else eventually.
Sometimes projects are going to get you angry. Make you hate everything about them. Finishing them becomes a way to defeat the damn thing. It's revenge. You beat it despite it throwing everything it possibly can in your way.
It's okay to hate these things. Not everything is rainbows and sunshine. Let that anger out and move onto a much more pleasing project.
Gem In Eyes taught me that the best laid plans sometimes get smashed by the giant "fuck you" fist that is life. And you're going to end up hella disappointed.
I had originally intended on knitting two of these shawls in August. I wanted Jamie and I to have matching ones. I had all these lovely plans of how it would be revealed and it was going to be so wonderful and romantic. (I'm a giant, mushy, lovey nerd... Sue me.)
Instead, I barely got the one finished and sent out. I didn't get to post on our actual anniversary because my mental illnesses were kicking my ass. I was so disappointed and a bit angry with myself. But I can't control everything, no matter how hard I try. Life's gonna get you at some point.
Polar Bear in a Snowstorm showed me that sometimes simple is satisfying. And to take pleasure in unexpected surprises.
As I said, sometimes simple is what you need in a project. A straightforward, no frills creation. NO wild patterns, weird instructions... just some simple knitting.
I just wanted something to look nice with the new dress I had bought, so I grabbed this yarn out of the stash and started improvising. I had no idea that this yarn was a gradient until I wound it up. As I was working with it, I was delighted how it looked. I never expected it to turn out like it did. It was a good, satisfying project and just what I needed at the time.
Mermaid Lair... oh, Mermaid Lair... it taught me that sometimes things are worth the effort. And that effort is going to show.
This was the shawl that took me the longest to do over the year. It was by far the most complicated shawl I've done to date. The amount of beadwork is only rivaled by Celestarium. I had a few setbacks, including almost running out of yarn. But when she was done and off the blocking board, I wept with happiness.
It still astounds me that I made this with my own hands. But really, it's not that surprising. The years of knitting experience I have led me to be able to make such a magnificent piece. I put the time and effort in to learn, to understand, to grow. And she reflects that.
Flying Scotsman, well, I learned that sometimes it is about the process and not the finished piece.
I don't know what the hell I was thinking when I decided on this shawl for November's project. It's the opposite of everything I love to do. But I thought it'd be fun.
I was wrong. I didn't enjoy making this shawl. But I was still happy that I did it. As I worked on it, it cemented what I knew was already true about my knitting. I will always love lace and beads and complicated charts more than anything else. Colorwork like this is just not for me, no matter how much I wish otherwise.
I'm happy with this shawl. I like how it looks. My knitting was pretty solid. But I doubt I'll do anything like this in the near future.
And that brings us to Ashton. I think the most important thing I learned from her was that I can handle whatever life throws in my way so long as I'm willing to change the plan a little. And to reach out for help when I need it.
December was one of the toughest months I've dealt with in quite a while. And I didn't think I was going to meet my deadline. I kept having to change what I had originally envisioned for this shawl, which would have normally had me frustrated and in tears. But my loved ones kept me going. John took up the bulk of the work around the house to make sure I had enough time to knit. He stood on the sideline, cheering me on. He helped me to logic out what I needed to do to get through this last project.
Throughout the year, so many others told me how proud they were of me as I worked and worked. They were patient when the shawls took priority over some requests. And when I finished one, they celebrated with me. It really showed me just how much a good support network can change your life.
So to them, I say thank you for everything.
Completing this journey has filled me with a confidence and pride that I didn't think was possible for me to experience. To some people, I'm sure that it doesn't seem like that big of an accomplishment.
But for me, someone who has only recently learned how to have some self-esteem, it's a astronomically important accomplishment. It was a promise I kept to myself. One that I had to work long and hard to fulfil.
And now, at the end of it, I can look back and smile. See what I accomplished. Wear my hard work. And get ready for the next journey.
It's a new year. And there's new magic to be made.
Onwards, friends.
