Since I was a teenager, I have experienced periods of depression. My time at school was not particularly pleasant and left me with low self-esteem that can still affect me today.

It was around this time that I started to knit obsessively! After a difficult day at school or college, I'd come home and, rather than sink into the sadness I was feeling, I knit it all into beautiful garments that I could actually be proud of. It brought passion and enthusiasm to my life.

I joined a knitting group where I was the youngest by about 20 years, and I found community when I needed it the most. In my late teens, I started working in the knitting department of a local department store, selling beautiful yarn and teaching people to knit.

One of my regulars was a lady with severe mental health problems. She was an in-patient at a nearby psychiatric unit, but was allowed to leave to buy yarn. Most Saturdays, she would come to see me and we'd sit at the table and knit together. For her, knitting was a comforting activity and a welcome distraction from the pain she was feeling every day.

Thankfully, the "black dog" hasn't visited me for quite a while now. However, anxiety is still a part of my daily life. Knitting is one of the best tools I have to keep it under control. When I'm overwhelmed by worry, I simply knit. The repetitive movements feel like meditation, keeping me present in the here and now, rather than the whirlwind of my anxious thoughts.

Knitting has been a part of my life since I was 8 years old. My mom taught me to knit. She was taught by her employer, when she was a young woman. It was the Continental style and over time, I mastered the art and built a comfortable "cruising speed". Years later, my mother told me she never "got" my love of it. I was blessed in that she knew enough to share it with me. I never really gave it up, though for many years, I didn't pick up my needles.

I started again, in earnest, when I was pregnant with my first child. I was very young, but very excited to have a child since I had been looking forward to being a mother from an early age. Through the birth of two children, I knit. Sweaters, hats and mittens, in small sizes, are still my favorite projects.

After 16 years of marriage and a lot of drama, it became apparent that my marriage was over. Throughout the whole ordeal, I knit. As I re-call, or like to believe, I knit 9 sweaters through the 18 months it took to finish the legalities. During that time, I switched homes, took on a new job and had to endure the ordeal of estrangement from my first child.

Seven years later, I met the man who would become my second husband: A widower, with a young daughter. We were, I thought, a match "meant to be" Taking time and successfully maneuvering the ordeals of moving, home renovation, changing schools and jobs, including the loss of one, I was confident that we had the "stuff" to create a good life.

Unfortunately, I was mistaken. As it turned out, my second marriage was doomed from the beginning since my husband was living a secret life. When time and investigation revealed the dishonesty and complexity of that life, it was necessary to move on and obtain a second divorce - which, for me, was a painful reminder of previous loss.

Again, I pulled up stakes- not without enormous sadness - and re-set my life. This included a move to a rural area and a new way of life.

Through it all, the one constant was my knitting. When I could sit still, I often had a pair of needles in my hand. By this time, my first daughter, had a baby and so I was back to the joy of creating small items for a much desired and loved child.

Knitting has saved my life more than once. I have lost count of the number of times that making something helped me to move forward. Besides the soothing nature of working with good yarn and needles, the fact that I was knitting for the future, made me see that there was a future. It was a far different one than I had imagined, but that was not the point.

The simple act of making something is an act of hope. It means that something, and someone, will benefit from the time you invested. The energy you expend will be well used even if it comes with a strong dose of tears and regret. The fact is that along with those emotions comes a determination to proceed and thrive.

Several things did help, journaling my feelings, talking to other cancer survivors (you're a "survivor" from the moment of diagnosis!) and keeping as active as possible, even if it was just getting out of bed and sitting up in a chair. But the number one thing that both saved my life and my sanity was my knitting.
During the months of chemotherapy I finished five hats, a cowl and a scarf. I started, but never finished, two sweaters and a pair of socks. Knitting gave me a purpose, a way to mark the passage of time, and most of all an outlet for my pent-up anxiety and anger.

Knitting went from something that I would do most days to something that I had to do every single waking moment. If I knit fast enough, I could outpace my cancer's growth. If I bought enough yarn and had enough projects planned, I could keep death at bay. St Peter couldn't take me away; I had a sweater to finish first!
Chemo made time slow horribly down. If I had something to work on, my day felt like it went by marginally faster. I would wake up at 5:30 am from a fitful night's rest and just knit until the sun rose. If I had something to make, I could say that I did more than just lay in a hospital bed hooked up to an IV.

My good days were ones where I knitted endlessly. My bad days were marked by stitches rather than inches.

Stabbing my knitting needles through the yarn became my rosary. The rhythmic click became at once soothing and my fight song. I would knit to examine my feelings and to gain distance from them. It was impossible to knit and cry simultaneously so I chose to knit. My world was suddenly much uglier and angry but now I had a way to bring some color and beauty into it.
Knitting helped to remind me that I had a modicum of control in the world and that I could grow something pleasurable. Every day that I made a stitch was a day that I brought beauty into my world even if my hands were numb.
The drive to create also became a beacon of hope. It was a reason to keep going through chemo. I had still many more yards to knit. And I still do. There's still more beauty for me to knit, if cancer didn't stop that, nothing else will. I am a knitter. I can do anything.
Vanessa is a martial artist, crafter and blogger living in Minneapolis Minnesota. While she doesn't knit as much as she did, she keeps her hands busy by making plush internal organs for Survival Organs. You read more about her adventures in survivorship at Mixed Martial Arts and Crafts.

I had a car accident almost ten years ago. As a result, I suffered a bout of depression; I began to cross stitch to stop my self from thinking about everything that had happened. The repetition was soothing, and I felt like I was achieving something. The results were instant and only needed my approval. My husband bought me cross-stitch kits during this time. I felt that it was his way of dealing with my feelings and fears. Once I recovered, the projects went in the cupboard.

Later on, after the birth of my first child, I was diagnosed with Post-Natal depression I used sewing as a means of distraction. It worked well enough, but, after a while, I stopped the sewing.

I have since taken up knitting and this has been a lifesaver for me. It fills my world with color, pleasure and sound. My children and husband think my creations are wonderful. Many friends and family have received accessories that I have designed and knitted. I am no longer afraid of feeling "down" or unwell I know that my knitting will keep me connected with those I love.

Knitting has given me hope and a true belief in myself. It has encouraged me with a feeling of self-confidence.