When to Call It Quits

There’s a project that’s been sitting on a table, staring at me for months. It’s actually been more than a couple of years since I first started it, full of excitement at what it would turn out to be. I chose the yarns carefully, investing in good quality wool, carefully selecting colors that would work best for a harmonious palette.

After all that thought, deliberation, and dozens of hours of work, however, I’ve realized the stare down must end. I have to make a decision.

UFO (Unfinished Objects) Sightings

Most of us who have been knitting for a long time have one or two (or more!) projects that linger in the back of the closet or drawer, tucked at the bottom of the bag, deprived of daylight for longer than we’d like to admit.

We might unearth them for a few minutes here and there, wonder what we were thinking and where we left off, but know with confidence we’ll return to them one day and sort it all out. Other projects we rediscover, conclude that whatever thoughts we had when we got started were not the best thoughts we’ve ever had, reclaim the yarn and go merrily on our way.

But what about the hibernating projects that don’t bring an immediate or obvious answer to the “should I hang on to this?” question. Those are the projects that tend to stick around with me for years, morphing slowly from knitting projects into lumpy bunches of colorful insulation.

Here’s one way to think about these troublesome projects. At first glance, it looks a little cold-hearted, but if you’ll give me a moment to explain, I hope you’ll see how this framework is helping me sort through some of the more complex emotions that can hide underneath some of our unfinished projects.

Question 1: Is It For Me?

The first question is a simple one. Who is this item for? If you can’t remember, or you didn’t have a recipient in mind, this process can end very quickly. Reclaim the yarn and set it aside for another project.

Question 2: Do I Really Want It?

Let’s go down this path first because it’s less emotionally fraught. If the project was an item intended for you, it’s time for an honest assessment. Do you really want it? Is it out of style now? (Some projects may have been hibernating that long!) Would you pay for it if you found it at a store? If it’s a piece of clothing, will it still fit? How do you plan to wear it? Will you actually wear it? Have you purchased or made something similar to it since you stopped working on it?

Whether you tend to be a practical or emotional person, going through that thought exercise should either excite you or leave you uninterested or even a little burdened. Pay attention to how you feel as you’re assessing.

If you really want it, pull that project out and make some progress on it as soon as possible. You can always change your mind if working on it reminds you of another reason you set it aside (frustrating or confusing pattern, scratchy yarn, etc.). Otherwise, unravel the yarn as soon as you can and put it with the rest of your yarn stash, to be used for a different project.

Now, the tougher questions:

Question 3: Is the Recipient Worthy?

Let me preface by clarifying that I believe every human is worthy of love, care, and respect. (I don’t mean “worthy” in that sense. I’m talking about the term “knitworthy” familiar to many knitters.)

I also believe that there are occasions when we ought to give freely of our gifts and ourselves with no expectations whatsoever.

However, most people have had the experience of giving a valuable gift to an unappreciative recipient, and it is the experience of this, or the fear of this, that I believe keeps many knitters and crocheters from finishing and giving away their UFOs intended for others.

This is an amazing opportunity for personal reflection. What exactly are we giving when we give a hand knitted or crocheted item? It’s more than the monetary value of the materials or our time. Many makers feel like they have invested themselves, a part of their heart, or even some spiritual element of themselves in what they make.

It’s that investment that makes a handmade gift so meaningful. And it’s why a rejection or dismissal of something handmade can be so hurtful. It doesn’t feel like the created piece is the only thing being devalued.

Everyone has their own standard of “worthiness” in this context. As you think about the project you’re considering, ask yourself what you hope for in general when you give someone something you’ve made.

I know of knitters who expect to see people wear the things they knit for others a certain number of times within a certain time frame or they are crossed off the “knitworthy” list. I know of others who have a policy that if they ever see an item they knit in a thrift store, that recipient won’t be knit for again.

On the other end of the spectrum are those who are happy to continue knitting for those who express any sort of gratitude, whether their knitting is ever worn or not.

If this is a new concept to you, let me suggest this standard: Does the recipient receive your work kindly? Do you feel appreciated? Is your creation treated as a unique gift, or as a burden?

If it’s the latter, may I gently suggest that except for rare occasions, you give yourself permission to consider the prospective recipient as someone to care for in ways other than with your knitting?

Question 4: Does It Matter?

I have this little caveat in my framework because sometimes I’ve made myself finish something because I didn’t want to deal with the fallout for not finishing. Someone might have felt left out, and it was more important for someone to feel included than for me to feel appreciated.

In general, I’m very blessed by how people have responded to my knitting. Most people have been incredibly encouraging and thoughtful. Whether or not they actually enjoy the items themselves, they have received them with kind appreciation and more.

A Choice to Redeem

But then there’s this project that’s been staring at me. The one that breaks my heart and brings tears to my eyes when I give it more than a passing glance.

The one I’m realizing I need to abandon.

I’m following my own framework and coming to the conclusion that finishing it would be wasteful. The finished object would not be received kindly. This particular one will be emotionally difficult to unravel, too, as the intentions were deeply personal.

As I make this choice, I’m looking at it as a forward step on a path of understanding how to use the time and gifts I’ve been given. I only have a limited amount of time to create (despite what my stash might suggest to the contrary), and I want to use my gifts to show love and care for those who will accept them.

So I’ll reclaim the yarn and redeem the time, finding something special to make that will honor the intentions. And, as one of my favorite quotes goes, “all manner of thing shall be well.”

Do you have a similar story about an emotionally difficult hibernating project?

Kiersten J