Divorce is tragic, not only because it destroys something precious, a marriage. It is also tragic because it destroys a life--a life that once defined so much of who I was, that gave me a context.
Even as I pull three ring notebooks from their shelves to review case law and search the internet for statutes that might help me in my court actions, I am still occasionally reminded of the life I left behind.
It might be a crumpled picture left in a drawer with my ex and I arms around each other, staring at the camera as if we didn't have a problem in the world. Or it might be something else, like the size ten knitting needles I rescued today from a pile of junk in the back of my closet.
It may surprise you to know that I actually knit, and one of the first activities I had to leave behind when I divorced was knitting. I'm just too busy taking care of a household as a single mother with children and earning a living. There never seems to be any time for me to sit down and have the leisure to start up a new knitting project.
Besides, after I filed for divorce everything I had seemed to implode--my books and papers went into storage, I outgrew my wardrobe because the stress made me eat more, and all my friends disappeared.
Along with that went my knitting needles--all of them seemed to lose their pairs and disappear into random locations in my house. It is really hard to knit anything with only one needle--very symbolic of course of what I'm going through now!
Amazing then, that I came across this one intact pair of size 10 knitting needles all ready to go.
Plus, for five years now I have had a sticky note with a pattern for a prayer shawl stuck on my kitchen wall. That's it, I said today, it's a sign from God!
So today I drove down to the local craft store and picked up some yarn so I could start my knitting project. As it turned out the store didn't have exactly the right kind of yarn, but I just bought something equivalent anyway. If there is one thing I've learned in the years since the divorce started it is to be satisfied with a fair approximation.
The first thing I had to do was cast on 57 stitches onto one of the needles. Most of being able to do this involves muscle memory. I had to let my fingers remember the feel of the right movement required to put the stitches in place. After a few false tries, I was able to get the job done. Subsequently, I just had to keep going down several rows doing knit three, then pearl three. And it looks as though the piece is coming together very well.
There is a sense of satisfaction about being able to do something again that I had once done prior to the divorce. It is as if in reclaiming what once was, I am restoring to myself all the scattered pieces of my life and personality that used to define me, that made me whole. And along with that, in these recent years, I have added the strengths I have gained from learning how to understand and reject abuse and to make my own decisions.
Yes, I lost a great deal in my divorce, but I did not lose everything. There are simple, inexpensive actions that I can carry out which return me to myself. Knitting is one of them.
I can't say that I am great at knitting, only that I truly love it. I learned about knitting from my British grandmother. My parents are the first generation of my family here in America. This means that I grew up without any cousins, aunts, uncles, or grandparents around, because we were the only ones from our family in this country.
Still, every Christmas we would receive a large, brown box from Europe. Inside there would be these children's almanacs full of graphic tales, poems, short stories, and newsy tidbits from abroad, along with sugary rock candy that was endlessly sticky and delightful.
In addition, my grandma always included a brand new, hand knit cardigan for each of us four children.
I once visited my grandma in England over the summer for a month when I was ten years old. While I was there, she taught me how to knit, and gave me my very own knitting bag so that I could travel around with my knitting projects.
The big challenge I found was to knit without losing any stitches! Like the daughter of many immigrants I lost the rich heritage of the culture my parents left behind when they chose to leave and start a whole new life in America. But the one treasure I was able to preserve from the old country was an interest in hand knitting.
Now along with my notebooks, along with my court documents, and this computer upon which I write my blogs, I now have an enormous ball of yarn and two number 10 knitting needles.
When things get tough, I will do what I used to do, drop everything, grab my knitting and solve my problems through my fingers. Because as I wind and weave the yarn, I always find that a slow feeling of peace begins to overtake me, a serenity and calm settle around me, and whatever difficulty appeared to be so big eventually becomes more manageable.
This is the gift my grandma left for me, the ability to understand that in the midst of turmoil, I can find strength within myself, a confidence that I will endure all these struggles and find my way to more solid ground, no matter how impossible that seems. This is the gift that I renewed for myself today when I rescued my size 10 knitting needles from the pile, and it is one that I will forever be grateful for.
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