Who knit ya?

"Who knit ya?" is a phrase which hails from wondrous Newfoundland in Canada. Many of the people who settled there were Scots or Irish and the whole island is an eclectic mix of cultures, with a strong Celtic vibe. Who Knit ya - basically is a question about who you are, or rather who contributed to you being the way you are.

It is intended to be said in jest - laughing at themselves is something Newfies are renowned for. For example, if you do something a bit daft, the response might be - who knit ya? The phrase fascinated me and I guess I took another meaning out of it - more about the threads and patterns that are woven into the fabric of our lives, our being, our creation and in particular who contributed to that. 

We carry places and people inside us, they become part of ourselves. A sunset in the north of Scotland, a stranger on the train. Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, aunties, uncles, cousins, teachers, friends, enemies, strangers - they all "knit us". They all contribute a stitch or a thread, a colour. 

And when we look at ourselves, what do we see? Sometimes it might feel like a tangled mess. In therapy, that's exactly what we do - untangle the tangles. Unpick the bits that don't make sense and weave them back into a pattern. We call it integration. Integrating the parts of ourselves that we find unacceptable or the experiences we have had that we just can't get our heads around.

Sometimes there are mistakes, or those in the creative world like to call them "design features". What would it be like to think of our lives as having design features? Unique aspects that cannot ever be replicated. The experiences of our lives make us who we are, in all our multi-coloured imperfect beauty. People who make stuff continually have WIPs - Work in Progress. That's what we will always be, that's the incredible beauty of us, we have the ability to change the pattern and create something amazing with our lives.

"I am a part of all that I have met."

 Alfred Lord Tennyson

Knitting takes time and patience - for some of us it involves ripping out and starting all over again. For some of us, it involves swearing or throwing things across the room. But it is always worth the effort. (Well, maybe apart from that very dodgy primary colours jigsaw jumper I knitted in the eighties).

And people. People are always worth the effort.

Signing off. Dr M

Back on the wagon but don't forget the brakes

It's been so long since I've written my blog that I may actually have forgotten what to do. But I have so many words, thoughts and energy pumping round my body just now I feel the need to get back on the blogging horse. Maybe it will give people something more positive to read among the fear, panic and anger. Maybe it will ground me. Maybe it will make me take the space to reflect on everything - not just what's going on in the world, but what's going on inside me.

I have been blown away by people's creativity and care in these unprecedented times. I'm aiming to be like these swans taking it all in my stride, but I'm not quite sure I'm pulling it off. There are moments of peace and gratitude, but also moments of lots of other feelings too.

The appeal of slowing down, not driving anywhere, not squeezing in just one more thing, another bit of work, another meeting - well, it's vast. But I've realised over the past few days, bear with me, I'm clearly slow on the uptake, it's me, it's all me. No one else made my life this way - only me.

The clue is in my pinging inbox. Oh let's sign up for this that and the next thing. Here's another free course. Here's another online group. Here's another craft thing you can do. Here's another instrument you can learn. Here's another room you can paint. Here's another drawer or shelf you can sort out. Here's another vegetable you can plant. Here's another list of a million ways to slow down. I know, I'll write a blog post...

“Strange, what being forced to slow down could do to a person.”

― Nicholas Sparks, The Last Song

And... breathe. Yes. Just breathe in. And breathe out. I'm noticing as it reaches the end of a frantic week that my body is tense and I need to fill my lungs with air. Yes, I can cope. Yes, I can rally round. Yes, I can adapt in a crisis. That's all fab. But I can also use work and busyness as a way to cope with uncertainty. Yes, just do stuff. And then do some more stuff.

So I'm giving myself a gentle talking to. Not a great big telling off. But a gentle reminder that this is an opportunity to develop some better habits, some different ways of being.

Signing off. Dr M