I retired early to marry late (50), freed for the first time since my teens from having to be the breadwinner for others. My partner took that on. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was…but I found out that my decades of career and business-owning work had kept me distracted from the pain. Yes, I wasn’t really being myself–I had cobbled together a SuperHero persona, and no one knew about the pain but my nearest and dearest. Having a career is much easier than having a life and a marriage. The latter requires radical honesty; a career you can sometimes pass or fudge how you’re feeling, what you’re thinking.

In my newly blessed and relaxed life, I had to face down the pain, every day, without all those distractions. I had to be real with myself and my partner. And since our marriage came within a year of a major job and career shift for my partner, it meant moving to a part of the world where we knew no one.

In a miasm of loneliness, exhaustion, pain, and “at rope’s end” feelings one day, and not wanting to be a burden with such a wonderful partner providing so much for our lives, I reached for a crochet hook and some cheap yarn I had in a box in the closet. As a child I had been taught many needleskills by my aunts, who were tradeswomen in the 1940s-1970s. I was amazed by how well crochet had stayed with me. I started crocheting a snuggle tent for a friend’s pet parrot. Then I made this long wacky tunic/robe thing that a friend wept with joy when I gave her.

That was ten years ago, and I’ve never stopped.

I cannot follow written patterns, though do OK with the visual charts (Japanese style). For me it’s totally free form. That is, I know a bunch of stitches, have guides to various stitch patterns, but cannot do the line-by-line-reading thing. Still, I make sweaters, vests, tons of socks, scarves, hats, mittens, goofy little inspired things, ornaments, laces, shawls, blankets…somehow they just seem to happen, and somehow when I’m in the most pain, they seem to happen the best.

Then I give nearly all of them away. Usually anonymously. I’m shy and prefer not to be thanked. I like to know that my pain was transformed through the magic of hook and yarn into warmth and color for someone else.