I am a knitter. It is at once a creative outlet, a hobby and a meditation as I sit here quietly in the evenings, with soft music and a full heart. The joy is not in the end result but in the process. Once a project is done, it gets shipped off to the recipient and I look ahead to the next project.

My mother was a knitter and shared this love of crafting with needles and yarn with me at an early age. I remember knitting clothes for my dollies; so that’s how long I’ve been knitting. She was also a brilliant seamstress, but unfortunately, I did not inherit that skill. The knitting is deeply rewarding and I get so much joy from watching a project come together, stitch by stitch.

I recently read Untamed by Glennon Doyle. In it she talks about wanting to fit in with cool kids in high school. She fully recognizes that she’s the token uncool kid in the group and is mostly ignored by the cool kids, but she’s just so happy to be in the group that she gladly tolerates their disdain. Besides, her uncool friends all see that she’s in with the cool kids, and that is more important to her than how poorly she is treated by the group she so desperately wants to belong to.

This desperation to fit in at all costs, reminded me of something else I learned from my mother. As a child coming home from with school whining about some kid who had been mean to me, my mother imparted early lessons about self worth and dignity. She said I was better off going to read my book on my own, than reducing myself just to be accepted by others who were being unkind. I don’t even remember who the mean kids were now, but I remember the lesson about never forcing your way into a situation where you’re not welcomed warmly. It was in that funny way where it becomes a part of your life, but you never recognise it as a teaching. From the simple joy of knitting to lessons about self respect, I am thankful for the gifts from my mother.

The Glennon Doyle book went on about all the ways she felt suffocated by her life but felt bound to it by what was expected of her. I couldn’t relate. Was it because my father would say things about being true to yourself, and “to each his own” which mostly went over my head as a child? Looking back, I recognise how the language you hear growing up shapes your understanding of your place in the world.

I had a birthday party once and knew none of the kids that attended. My father had gone to a local orphanage and brought some kids to my party. I don’t remember if I was 5 or 6 – I was little. I only remember the party vaguely, but remember clearly the gesture and the lesson of sharing. Years later I learned about building longer tables and fondly remembered my first exposure to that notion.

There are so many other things I remember learning from my father – not just from his words but his actions. The way he treated people with the same dignity and respect whether it was his superior at work, an elder in the community or the beggar at the door asking for a piece of bread. Similarly, he taught us that adults didn’t naturally command respect just by being adults. Even as children, we were always encouraged to stand up for ourselves and be heard. All of these teachings are woven into who I am today.

I was Daddy’s girl and my father called me his princess. He died when I was 13 so the notion of being a princess, worthy of all the love and kindness in the world, has stayed with me.

In my occasional moments of loneliness, I know that just because I don’t have romantic love in my life, does not mean that I am not worthy or deserving of it. I also understand that just because I am worthy and deserving of the purest love, does not mean it is meant for me or that I will ever have it. My life is far more about the wonder that fills it, than that which is absent.

I live a somewhat non traditional life in that I don’t have a career, I don’t own a home and I don’t have a partner. Perhaps it is because of all I’ve learned through my life that has empowered me, to a large degree, to craft a life of my choosing. For the most part, my time is my own and the work I do at my fluid contract jobs is exciting, fun and fulfilling. I have friends who love and support me and I am always moved by the kindness and affection that I am shown. My wonky little life is decadently unencumbered, filled with joy, abundance gratitude and the most sacred of treasures, my peace and contentment.

The significance of those childhood gifts, and their influence on who I am and how I live my life is never lost on me.