C is for Crochet

There was a girl I went to school with who was super smart, got all the solos in the choir and most of the good parts in the play, while I once was the back end of a cow. I was insanely jealous of her.[1] Ok, not so much for the cow part, that was actually fun to eight year old me. And on top of everything else she could do better than me, she could crochet.

I’d never been taught to crochet. We had done knitting in class, and my mum would knit for us, and mum and aunts would sew things for us. My sister and I learned cross stich. But nobody else I knew could make those tiny, intricate stitches I saw this girl doing.

Shortly after my 24th birthday, with that thought lurking somewhere in the back of my mind, I visited Vibes and Scribes in Cork and saw a learn to crochet kit on the shelves.

Would it be terrible of me to say that I was hooked?

I loved crochet. I practiced my stitches in front of youtube and joined ravelry and started to turn yarn into hats and simple gloves. It was all going swimmingly.

Unfortunately, C also stands for carpel tunnel.

After a particularly enthusiastic evening of crochet, on the back of weeks and months of enthusiastic crochet, I work up with a sore wrist which got progressively worse throughout the day. The student health centre hooked me up with anti inflamatories and an appointment with the on campus physio, which helped a lot. I managed to avoid full blown carpel tunnel but it gave me a bit of a fight. Needles, hooks, video games and mice were all put away for a few weeks.

I’m pretty lucky, in the past four years I haven’t had another incident. I can knit without pain or stress on my hands and wrists, but whenever I pick up the crochet hook, I can feel the muscles complain, and I really don’t want to rouse the nerve pain again.

I still love crochet though. I’ve had fun teaching it as part of the Irish Crochet Coral Reef. I’m glad I’m not scared of it when I want a provisional cast on. I owe it a debt of gratitude for dragging me into the wonderful world of fibre, so even if large projects are out of my reach, I will always be proud of my crochet roots.

[1] Ok, not so much for the cow part, that was actually fun to eight year old me.

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