Here’s the thing about knitting: I don’t like it.
I don’t actively dislike it, it’s just not something that brings me joy, not something that I have any tiny bit of patience for, and not something that I particularly even care to ever be good at.
I thought I did. I wanted to like it. I wanted to wear adorable scarves that I could say I made myself. I pictured my niece holding onto mittens and scarves that her Aunt Doni made, and maybe one day she’d pass them onto her own children.
I never get ahead of myself. Nope, never.
Once, I made a skinny scarf that was better suited to a cabbage patch doll than an actual human, but hey, I did manage to finish one project.
I moved from Colorado to Oregon in December 2010, and I brought what few knitting supplies I had with me. In Portland, I acquired new tools, tried knitting a few more times, and then shoved everything in a bag in my closet. For two and a half years, there they sat, reminding me that years after deciding I might like to try knitting sometime, I still wasn’t, well, knitting.
In May of 2013, I finally got honest about that and threw that shit out.
Why? Because a few years is plenty long to try to be something you’re not, to try to like something you don’t because you think doing so says something about the kind of person you are. It was just way too long to spend time doing anything I didn’t actively enjoy, and it was starting to take up space in my life that was better suited for other things.
Something happened when I turned 30. My bullshit-meter cranked up, my tolerance for Doing Things I Don’t Like cranked down, and I started owning the idea that life is way too damn short to waste on the mediocre.
Today, I spend my time eating (no, seriously, it’s a hobby — just look at my Instagram), cooking, running, doing yoga, drinking wine, traveling, spending quality time with my friends, trying to develop my own sense of style, wine-tasting, whiskey-tasting like a crazy person, sorting through the parts of my work that I love and the parts I don’t, and focusing on those things that support this life I am creating for myself.
I’ve been running the people in my life through a similar filter. I have amazing and inspiring close friends, incredibly deep relationships, and am constantly surrounded by the absolute best people on the planet. Thanks to these fine human beings, my standards for What Makes an Excellent Friend are set pretty high, and at this point in my life, I am zero sorry about that and have zero time for settling for anything that comes up short of that bar.
Maybe you like knitting, in which case, you should own that, do it, and get crazy about it. Whatever your thing is, do it. But the second you realize it’s not (and kudos to you for at least trying!), run like hell in the other direction and start doing more of the things you love. In other words, if you’re obsessed, be obsessed. But if you’re not super into that thing you’re doing? Stop doing that thing.
I’m learning more and more these days some very simple truths about what matters, how I want to spend my time. Friends who love you for you and who you can trust with your everything — that matters. Family, homemade cocktails, heart-to-hearts, and deck time — that matters. Being deliberate about relationships, decisions, and listening — that matters.
I’m learning that being honest about everything you want and expect out of life (your relationships, your career, your friendships, your health) means you actually start getting everything you ever wanted. When you start living in a way that demands excellence, that you won’t settle for less… as it turns out, that’s exactly when you start getting it.
So, no. I don’t like knitting. And I’m ok with that.