Why Odd Duck?

  My Crochet Journey  

I realized the other day that I’ve been crocheting for almost two decades, which makes me sound much older than I actually am. Saying someone has decades of experience doing something conjures the image of a wizened elder guiding the youth or at the very least, a really cool forty-something person that all the kids want to grow up to be like. I’m in my twenties. While my twelve year old cousin does tease me about being an old lady who plays with yarn, I’m not that old yet.

               I have been crocheting most of my life, though. I learned when I was about five or six years old. I don’t remember the exact age. All I know is that it was before I could read properly since I needed my grandma’s help to understand the how-to booklet. By the way, my grandma doesn’t know how to crochet. We had a family friend who made blankets all the time, but otherwise I had no exposure to yarn based fiber arts. I don’t know why that smaller version of me wanted to learn to crochet, but I’m glad she did.

               I was also about five or six years old when my chronic health issues began. I’m not going to do a deep dive into all the medical details since this is the internet, but it is important to the story to know that one facet of my chronic illness involves a lot of joint pain. It was especially bad as a kid. It’s somewhat comparable to how growing pains feel, but worse and every day. It felt like someone was scraping a rusty spoon against my skeleton a lot of the time. Understandably, I had a lot of trouble sleeping on bad nights.

               My parents let me keep a little box TV in my bedroom so I had something to listen to while falling asleep, but sometimes that wasn’t enough to distract me. There were several nights I just couldn’t sleep. I have vivid memories of slipping out of bed on those nights, finding my crochet project, and working on it by the light of my TV until the stabbing pain subsided somewhat.

               I think that’s why I’ve always held onto crochet. I’ve seen a lot of people talk about their crochet journeys and mention that they learned when they were younger but stopped and didn’t pick it up again until they were older. I’ve definitely gone through phases with it, don’t get me wrong. There were a few years where I asked for yarn for every Christmas and birthday, years where I spent more energy on crafts like embroidery, and even years I didn’t craft at all. And yet, I always end up back with crochet because it’s always been there for me when I need something to help me cope. It's calming and relaxing, but also so freeing when I don't feel good. I can't describe what it means to me very well.

               Initially, I didn’t even know all the stitches. I knew how to chain and how to do single crochet. That was it, for many years. I didn’t learn to double crochet until I was in middle school. Then I learned how to do granny squares. Slowly that expanded into amigurumi, sweaters, and eventually anything and everything I have the yarn for. I owe a lot of this growth to the recent trendiness of crochet. It doesn’t have as much stigma for being a grandma hobby these days.

               My family is quirky, so they never really questioned my penchant for fiber arts. It fits in with everything else we do, to be honest. For example, I sing made up songs all the time when I’m wandering around doing things. The songs can range from admiring my cat to complaining about not being able to find the pasta sauce. This is a trait I inherited from my mom, who was only recently diagnosed with ADHD as an adult (which explained a few things). Back when we were still dating, my husband had accepted that the random singing was just part of how I am. Then he got to meet my family for the first time. My mom and I started singing a made up song together while making dinner, and he experienced an “oh no, there’s two of them” moment. That’s our normal, but a lot of families aren’t that way. I think that’s why, growing up, there were a lot of moments where we accidentally drew attention to ourselves in public. People stopped and stared sometimes because of things we said or did that were different but normal within our family.

               If you combine this atmosphere with all the ways my chronic illness makes me stand out, it’s an interesting recipe to say the least. I’m pretty introverted and having attention on me has never been a thing I’m great at. As a teen girl, it was the worst.

One day when we were talking, my mom and I came up with our own concept of the “Ugly Duckling” story. Instead of the duckling actually being a cygnet that grows up to be a beautiful swan, we thought “what if the duckling is just a really weird duck who doesn’t know how to be normal?" Maybe it even thinks it’s a turkey! That’d be funny. Or it could be a turkey that thinks it’s a duck. We weren’t sure on all the details, but the idea was fun.

The original story is about beauty standards and not judging by appearances (which is great) but it’s still starting with the assumption that something is wrong with the duckling, that it’s ugly and misunderstood. What if instead, the duckling is more confident in its identity and who it is? What if it doesn’t matter that it’s ugly, or odd, or not even a duck? What if it still can appreciate who it is before realizing it’s a swan?

After coming up with the idea of this odd duck, whenever one of us did something that was unique or drew attention in public, we’d go “gobble, gobble, I’m an odd duck” and laugh it off. It was a reminder that it was okay to be ourselves, even if people gave us weird looks.

For me, crochet has always been an “odd duck” interest. As I mentioned before, it’s definitely trendier these days which makes it easier, but when I was a kid none of my friends even knew what it was. No one around me crocheted. I was on my own for learning new techniques. But it was mine, gloriously mine, and I wasn’t going to abandon it no matter how weird it made me.

That’s why I chose the name Odd Duck for my crochet business. It’s a reminder of where I’ve been and where I’m going. It’s a reminder that with everything I make, I want it to be something that reminds people it’s okay to be a bit weird sometimes. You can be yourself and love the things that you love, even if others don’t get it. After all, I think life is more interesting for the odd ducks.