Showing posts with label PTSD. Show all posts
Showing posts with label PTSD. Show all posts

Monday, February 3, 2014

A Black Girl Walks Into A Yarn Shop

As some of you who followed my other blog may know, I have PTSD. A nasty little side effect from having undergone a back-to-back emergency liver transplant and C-section. It was found that knitting was a wonderful form of therapy for me. Back is San Jose, I was prescribed a weekly does of knitting with a local knitting group. As you may recall, I ended up joining the same knitting group that the famous, Cookie A. is a part of. I fell in love with sock knitting because of her.

Well, now here I am in San Diego, and again, I must find a local knitting group to help keep me sane. I checked out Ravelry and then did a Google search. What I found was not a kitting group, but knitting classes right down the street from me at a local yarn shop.

I had only been to a yarn shop once in my whole entire life. It was a little shop in Sedona where I bought one ball of recycled silk yarn for $10 and felt like I wasn't really wanted at that store. So, I wasn't all to keen about entering another yarn shop. But I needed some outside knitting that would force me to socialize and keep that creepy little PTSD at bay.

The Needlecraft Cottage

The yarn shop is called The Needlecraft Cottage and is run by a wonderful little lady named, Liz. I found on the website that they were offering several knitting classes. The one class that caught my eye was knitting the blocks from The Great American Aran Afghan. They plan to do one block a month, meaning that the class would go on for two years in order to complete all twenty-four block. Sort of a big commitment, but at least it meant a regular schedule of continuous knitting.

Owner, Liz

I did a test drive one morning to see just how far the shop was from my house. A straight shot down the street, not too bad. Then, I called the shop to as about what I would need to do to take the class. Liz had just one copy of the required book left. That gave me the bit of confidence I needed to say, "Please put the book on hold for me. I'll be there shortly to get it." I got up the nerve to drive there, park and walk in. The shop really is a cottage inside. Small, over-filled with yarn, knitting & crochet supplies and all the needlepoint paraphernalia you could ever want. Liz greeted me and helped me get the supplies that I needed for the class.

You could definitely tell the regulars from those just coming in to browse. The shop was very much geared to the golden years crowd, but seeing the amount of grey hair in the shop, I understood that Liz had built her store around her very faithful client base. As always, I was the only black chick  in there and most likely one of the youngest people in their too.

The Great American Aran Afghan


The class I'm taking is every Thursday. By the time I started the class, it was already two weeks into the first block. The teacher is very nice and my classmates change weekly. It's a very open class. Come if you need help or just want to chat with other knitters. If you don't like a particular block being worked on that month you can skip the class or come to class with something else you are working on. Easy enough.

I'ts nice to just sit a listen to everyone talk about their lives and their latest troubles. Or to hear them go on a rant about their favorite yarn or how much they dislike a particular pattern or designer.

Cascade Yarns Cherub Aran

My first block is coming along okay. I'm knitting it using Cascade Yarns Cherub Aran in a soft navy color. It's my first time using this yarn. The teacher recommended a wool yarn because we will need to block the squares once we are done. But I have five military issued wool blankets already. I have reach my household wool limit. So, I'm working with a nylon/acrylic blend. I know how to make non-natural fibers bend to my will. (He, he, he!)

Oh, did I mention that The Great American Aran Afghan is all cable patterns? And did I mention that for years I have been avoiding knitting cables like it was the plague? Yes, leave it to me to start off with something hard as hell. On the bright side, I get to spend two hours each week surrounded by yarn and the sound of many needles clicking away. Not a bad form of therapy.

Monday, August 8, 2011

My Three Year Anniversary

Today marks the three year anniversary of my liver transplant. It also marks the day that my son would have turned three.

It amazes me just how far I have come- both physically and emotionally:

There was the week long coma I had to recover from with my own realization of what I had just been through. The learning of new medical terms and medications. The month long healing from the operation. Dialysis every week while waiting for my kidneys to start working again. The staples and tubes getting removed. Four months of physical therapy to learn how to walk and feed myself. Bi-weekly blood draws and Prograf level changes. Learning to take care of our son with his own set of disabilities. Being diagnosed with post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Watching our son die and somehow finding the strength and will to carry on. Writing that first letter to the family of my liver donor. The volunteer work with the American Liver Foundation. The willingness to share my story in hopes of helping others. Finishing the sweater that was meant for our son and in doing so, rekindling my love for knitting. Joining the Boba knitting group and meeting Cookie A.. Coping with my Sickle Cell Anemia and its attack on my new liver. Accepting the fact that I could never get my old life back, but must now learn to create a 'new' life for myself.

I've come a long way, but it has not been a lonely journey. I would not be where I am today without the love and support of my doctors, family and friends. My biggest thanks goes to my husband. He is the person who has allowed me to lean on him so much without complaint or showing any sign of weariness. I always knew he was the love of my life. I just never knew he would become the hero of my life as well. Honey, I love you!

To Cory, my donor, and to all those who have made the decision to become organ/tissue donors- I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Without your selfless act of kindness, I, along with thousands of others would not be here today. Thank you for making the choice to give someone you may never meet, a chance at life.

You are welcome to join me tonight in raising a glass in celebration of my anniversary. May these three years be just a small part of the many years of happiness and good health to come!

Salut!