Life in Beta

I got a sad phone call the other night. It was from my dear friend Pat, the owner of my favorite knit shop in Tennessee, calling to tell me that the next day they’d be announcing that the shop would be closing. She’d wanted to call and tell me so that I didn’t hear about it in an email.

Of course, I appreciated her call, but my heart broke. It’s no exaggeration to say that that shop, and the people in it, were my saving grace during a difficult time in my life. It also had an enormous impact on the person I have become since then.

When I moved to Tennessee in 2007, I was profoundly lonely. The few friends I had worked opposite shifts than I did, and my only company was Gracie-dog. I mostly tried to keep busy with my hobbies. One afternoon while working on knitting a scarf, I ran out of yarn. I’d ordered the yarn online and didn’t want to wait for more to ship, so I searched to see if any shops sold the yarn locally. That’s when I discovered that there was a little shop, The Neighborhood Knit Shop, just a couple miles away from my apartment.

I remember walking in to the shop the first time — there was a circle of chairs in the middle of the room, with at least a dozen women sitting around knitting, chatting, and laughing. I thought I’d walked into a class, so when I was greeted I appologized for interrupting. I was instantly assured that I wasn’t interrupting and Sharon, who would later also become one of my best friends, helped me find the yarn I was looking for. When I was at the checkout, Sharon encouraged me to come back to “sit and knit.”

At that time, I was also seeing a counselor because I was having an awful time transitioning after moving 600+ miles away from everything I’d ever known. I was having massive social anxiety issues and wasn’t making new friends or leaving my house much. I thought maybe I should take Sharon up on her offer but the thought of so many new people really scared me.

I remember one Friday night a few weeks later, laying in my bed and giving myself a pep-talk, trying to convince myself to pack up my knitting and go socialize the next day. Would I fit in? Would I have anything to talk about? Would they think I was weird?

Saturday morning, I packed up my knitting bag and my purse and drove to the shop. I was nervous walking in. But then I saw a familiar face: Denise, who I’d “met” through Ravelry, a social network for knitters and crocheters. She immediately welcomed me and introduced me to everyone in the knitting circle. Sharon was there too, and Pat, and lots of others who would later become my dearest friends. Everyone was friendly and seemed to genuinely want to get to know me.

That was the first step in what completely changed me as a person. I’d always been shy, but the friendships I made through the knit shop made me a thousand times more outgoing and confident than I ever imagined I could be. I made friends there that ranged from the age of 18 to 83. I learned from people, and I learned to help others. Eventually, I even started teaching — which was a bit unreal because I’d never thought of myself as someone who could lead or teach.

The truly magical aspect of the shop was that I wasn’t the only one who has a story like this to tell. The Neighborhood Knit Shop was so much more than a store. I can’t tell you how many times someone came in with a problem and by the time they left, their yarn AND their troubled mind was untangled and made better. The four walls of the shop have seen tears, hugs of support, and immeasurable amounts of laughter.

It’s heartbreaking to see it go. I treasure every memory and every moment I spent there, and I’m so grateful for the friendships that will carry on.

To Pat, Sharon and all my friends at TNKS: Thank you for the memories and for being my Tennessee-family. I love you all so very much.