I've mentioned before how much I love to crochet.  Yarn is some of my most serious therapy.  The rhythm of the work, and the joy of making something with my hands is just incredibly soothing.  I try to do it every day, although I'm not always successful.

I realized earlier today that I've never shared pictures of some of my projects.  My most recent one is an afghan for my parents for Mother's and Father's Days.  I started it in early March, although I worked on several other projects in the meantime.  I'm now almost finished--I just have to finish the trim around the edge and then I'm finally (!) done.

I first learned how to crochet when I was in residential treatment.  We were stuck inside one day, and I was bored out of my mind.  I knew the basics of knitting, but nothing of crochet.  So my friend E taught me the basics.  I could never master anything more than the basic knit stitch, no matter how hard I tried. Nor was manipulating two needles that easy for me.  But I took off with crochet.  It's just wrapping yarn around a stick.  All you have to do to make the different stitches is wrap the yarn a different number of times.  I'm not practically giving myself stigmata with knitting needles, either.

It's become a huge part of my recovery.  When I get stressed or upset after eating (which has been known to happen a time or two...) I just pick up my yarn.  It takes enough of my concentration to tone down the obsessions, but it doesn't take so much concentration that I can be too upset to work.

How about you? Have you found crafting or creative projects an important part of your recovery? Share your thoughts in the comments!

When I wrote about the zone a few days ago, I realized that one of my big triggers isn't so much wanting to get skinny but it's that I'm missing being in the zone. I'm missing that obsessive, single-minded pursuit of...something. That preternatural focus. The endorphins. The zone.

Yet some of the moments when I've felt most alive--or at least most relaxed and "myself"--where when I was in sort of an alternative zone. When I'm making jewelry, say, or snuggling with Aria. When I'm writing or was doing some of my thesis research (reading the articles and connecting the dots into a continuous storyline). No, the feelings weren't identical, but it's been the closest I've gotten in a healthy way.

Just handing me a crochet hook and yarn wouldn't have gotten me into recovery. (If only it were that easy!) ED recovery is a lot more complicated than that. But I find myself more relaxed and less anxious when I'm in the other zone than when I'm just functioning normally. Perhaps this is why knitting has been found to help with ED treatment- besides just lowering anxiety, it also provides a nice substitute for the zone that people in treatment are missing.

Many of the people I've known have found creative endeavors to be helpful in their recovery, and I've always wondered why that is. Some of it is likely getting back in touch with a part of yourself that had been snuffed out by the ED. Some of it might be the playful feelings that creativity can raise. But now I'm wondering whether some of it might be related to being in the zone. That creativity can be a kind of replacement for the ED.

The best thing I've found about the alternative zone is that I am much more in control of when I enter and exit. Though I need some creative stimulation in some form, lest I go more bonkers than I already am, I know I am in charge of when I enter and leave the zone. Of course, there are days when them juices just don't flow and all the words that come pouring off of my keyboard lack grammar and punctuation (kind of like Faulkner, but without the literary merit) and so on, but I can give up or keep going.

That, to me, is the big difference. I did not have control over my eating disorder. I felt the pull of the zone so strongly that I just went there. My brain depended on it. And now, my brain still misses it. But I don't think my creativity is ultimately destructive, colored pencils and silver wire excepted, and it doesn't interfere with my life. It enhances it.

When I first saw this article, I laughed a little bit:

Managing anxiety in eating disorders with knitting

It struck me as a bit odd at first, a little off the wall. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that this idea kind of made sense.

The researchers provided a group of women who were hospitalized for an eating disorder, taught them how to knit, and provided them with supplies. The study found that

Patients reported a subjective reduction in anxious preoccupation when knitting. In particular, 28/38 (74%) reported it lessened the intensity of their fears and thoughts and cleared their minds of eating disorder preoccupations, 28/38 (74%) reported it had a calming and therapeutic effect and 20/38 (53%) reported it provided satisfaction, pride and a sense of accomplishment.

And I thought: how lovely. How simple, in fact. I myself learned how to crochet during treatment, and many of my friends also learned how to knit/crochet. I could never get the hang of knitting--my hand-eye coordination is terrible, and I could never get both needles going at the same time--but I did greatly enjoy crocheting. This then lead to my jewelry-making, and so on.

What's more, I loved the goals of the study. They weren't to reduce ED symptoms. I am not worried about any press releases or newspaper articles touting "Knitting cures eating disorders!" It was just the simple idea that knitting might help ED patients deal with anxiety better. I wish other sorts of alternative therapies, whether its yoga or the Magic Ponies that so many centers are so fond of (and love to charge you heaps of money to ride), would be predicated on this aspect: they may help relieve anxiety. I don't see them as an ED treatment per se, but they might help with some of the distressing emotions that go along with eating and gaining weight.

Do you knit/crochet? Did you learn in treatment? Was it helpful? What other similar mindful/creative activities have you found helpful?

I don't know any good knitting books, but if you're interested in learning how to crochet, my favorite book is The Happy Hooker. The same woman also published a knitting book called Stitch n Bitch.

Creativity has been a huge part of my recovery. Learning to crochet and create jewelry was one of my best coping skills to deal with the anxiety that was brought upon by eating and weight gain. It kept my hands and mind busy, and the repetitive, detailed work was calming.

It appears that making things is part of what is known as the effort-driven rewards circuit. The effort is the actual crafting part: the drawing the yarn over the needle, the making of the wire-wrapped loops. And the reward is the end product, knowing that you have created something totally unique.

Neuroscientist Kelly Lambert found that

"a well-engaged “effort-driven rewards circuit” helps us effectively meet emotional challenges, thus ameliorating depressive symptoms to some extent. Brain-wise, moving our hands activates larger areas of the cortex than movement of other parts of the body such as our legs or back muscles."

Writes Cathy Malchiodi (author of the blog post cited above):

So does “making things” offer a possible intervention for depression? It seems it might, at least as part of a program to treat what is not always alleviated by pharmacology plus talk therapy. While the arts serve as a means of self-expression and perhaps emotional reparation, we humans have consistently returned to the pleasure of crafting things with our hands for some more fundamental reason. Lambert’s research also brings new questions to the perennial debate about connections between depression and artists (more about that in a future post). But for now, it is exciting to know that we all may have access to an internal effort-driven rewards circuit to simply chase our blues away.

I haven't posted for the past two days, mainly because my thumbs were so sore. I took a beading class Thursday night and basically shish-kebobed my fingers on 22-gauge sterling silver wire as I learned how to make loops.

My first loop was not very...well...loopy. It looked like a Crash Test Dummy loop that had been mangled and wrecked on my round-nosed pliers. But the teacher said, "Try again." I made another loop. If not circular, it at least looked ovular. Then she said, "Make another one."

I wanted to remind her that this wire ain't cheap, but she said the only way to learn is to break a little wire.

So I made yet another loop. And another. And another.

I'm no loop expert- far from it, in fact. By thumbs were bloodied from twisting and contorting the wire into the proper shape. But I had half of a pretty, delicate, beaded bracelet. I won't be able to sell it with the rest of my designs, but at least I will be able to enjoy it.

One of the other key things I learned during this class is the necessity of proper tools. My instructor had very few actual tools made for "beading." Nope, this girl shopped in the Craftsman section at Sears. A girl after my own heart. She knew which tools worked best for her because she had tried so many out. During the class, I had tried out a bunch of different tools and decided that some were really useful, others not.

It's so much like recovery. Not every tool will work for every person, although there are some basics that pretty much everyone will need. The kinds of jewelry you can make are endless, and so is recovery.

The idea of creating things, even just necklaces and scarves, is so innately appealing to me. I don't have a God complex, but there is such a moment of pride in realizing, "I made that. That came from ME." And so amid the scraps of wire and yarn, scissors and beads, or the flashing cursor on my laptop, I create.

And create and create and create.