How to recover from a truly hard time

Knitting as a way of life, but also a way to rediscover hope and joy

Hard times are different for everyone.

Too often, things are hard because systems routinely fail us—the social safety net that should be there but isn’t.

Sometimes, things are hard because, you’re “dealing with being a person in your particular body or with your particular identity in the world,” as writer Anne Helen Petersen says, and the world isn’t soft or welcoming to you.

Some hard times are the kind we’ll all eventually experience: an illness, an aging body, or losing a loved one. Or, maybe times are hard with the particular grief of a partnership ending or losing a job.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been managing with and through a smaller level hard time. (I’m okay and my family is okay, and we are well-supported.) But, managing through this hard time has reminded me of just how far I’ve traveled in the past few years—through a pandemic that, essentially, broke my brain—and the things that have been the most helpful to me.

I’ve had to remember these core things over the past few weeks and put them to work to settle, soothe, manage, and find pockets of joy in the midst of all of it.

This Sunday, I offer a few reflections on the habits that have been extra nourishing to me in case you’re also in the middle of a hard time (or even if you’re between hard times and currently relishing your beautiful life).

Pare down

When times are hard, pare life down to just the essentials that matter to you. I really can’t stress this last part enough because what matters to you—and what gives you an outsized positive benefit—is different for all of us. For me, paring life down to no cooking but also more vacuuming is nourishing. Looking down and seeing clean floors gives me hope that life (like my floors) can be tidy again. Ordering prepared food, as my budget allows, often means giving up preferred foods or dishes, but it streamlines the work of keeping us all alive. (As an aside: I am constantly amazed by how much work it is to gather, plan, cook, eat, and clean up all the food needed to keep three human beings and one beagle alive each week. So. Much. Labor.)

Make something by hand

Creating something that wasn’t there before—even if it’s just a few stitches on your knitting needles or just a scant inch of fabric—is a way of embodying hope. For me, it’s a practice that says new things are coming. Even in my bleakest times, knitting (or making something with my hands) gives my anxious mind something else to focus on. So much of difficult times is often, simply enduring. The actual strategy part (deciding what to do) is often brief. The lion’s share of tough times, at least for me, is often quite boring. It’s endurance. Keep going. Hold space. Feel the feelings. When I make things with my hands (even if it’s a swatch that will get ripped out or a doodle that isn’t very good), it tells my body that things won’t always be as they are, right in this moment. Knitting makes hope easier for me to access.

Be gentle with yourself

My closest friends hear me say this a lot: be gentle with yourself. To me, this means to let the “soft animal of your body love the things that it loves.” (From Wild Geese, by poet Mary Oliver.) I love knitting. I love soup. I love deep breaths. I love washing my body with handmade soap. I love giving myself a permission slip to skip all the parasocial stuff on social media that makes it hard to earn a living as a self-employed yarn hand-dyer. Being gentle with yourself can mean different things to everyone, so, today, I encourage you to think about what would feel truly gentle to you. For me, it means self-talk that’s a bit softer, and knitting a bit more often.

Yarn that lasts for the long haul

Because we’re knitters, here, I’m going to offer a last tip on making it through hard times. This one is about yarn.

There’s a truth about yarn that you realize the more you work with it and the more you wear what you make (be that hats, sweaters, or socks). Not all yarns will last for the long haul. The softer the wool, the more likely it is to pill. The fewer plies, the more vibrant the color and crisper the speckles will be—and the worse that yarn will wear over time.

Working with a yarn that best suits its purpose helps to reinforce to my brain and my hands that knitting is important because I know that what I’m making will wear and look its best, over the long haul. I want the things I make to have a good, long life.

I hope you’re able to indulge in some truly nourishing habits today and into the coming week. I hope you’re able to knit more, to embody hope, and to show the soft animal of your body more of the things it loves.

xo Anne