My grandmother taught me how to knit when I was a kid. Every summer, I’d spend a few weeks at her house, and she’d let me use the very same needles and yarn with which she made all my favourite sweaters, blankets, and slippers. I never kept up with it throughout the school year, so I would always inevitably forget. But every summer, I’d ask her to teach me again.
However, I only started knitting in earnest a few years ago, when I found out I was going to be an aunt. Mental health has been a lifelong struggle for me, but this point in my life had been particularly rough. During a rare spurt of energy, I pulled out my grandmother’s needles and yarn (and some refresher Youtube tutorials), and got to work on a very simple garter stitch blanket. The finished gift was (very) far from perfect, but it was the first time in quite a while that I actually felt proud of myself. I noticed that while I was keeping my hands busy, the world (and my mind) felt a little less dark.
I began knitting everywhere, all the time. At home while watching Netflix, on public transit, while spending time with friends—any time my hands were free. I started picking up new skills, and trying increasingly difficult patterns. Having something to focus on helped ease my social anxiety, made it easier for me to deal with a very crowded daily commute, and gave me a feeling of accomplishment.
Most of my yarn came from a big craft store, where I would wait until I could muster the energy to make the trip, then buy as much discounted yarn as I could carry, hoping it would get my through until the next time I was up to coming back. While there's absolutely nothing wrong with craft store yarn, I knew there was a whole world of fibre I missing out on. Buying online is always possible, but it’s hard to know how to parse through all the different options without the experience/knowledge of fibre makeups (not to mention shipping into Canada is usually a nightmare). I dreamed of being the kind of person who could confidently walk into a fancy local yarn store and feel like I belonged there. I wanted to believe that I was worthy of all that beautiful and expensive fibre.
It took a long time and a lot of work for me to get to a place where my mental health is manageable, and knitting played a big part in helping me get there. But I still vividly remember how hard it was to feel comfortable exploring my craft. Now that I’m in a better position to do so, I want to make the resources as accessible as possible to others. Not having the time, fibre knowledge, or stamina to get to a local yarn store doesn’t have to be a barrier to experience all kinds of different yarn. Not having a knitter in your life doesn’t mean you can’t learn.
Every month, I’m sending out curated boxes with a theme that makes me happy. Every skein of yarn is one that I have personally fallen in love with, and that I am excited to share with other knitters. I’m sourcing my yarn from Canada and shipping across the country so you don’t have to deal with surprise customs fees. I started Knit Me because I want to celebrate the love of knitting (regardless of skill level or experience), and do all I can to help alleviate the stress that can go with it.