Stitch and Bitch is a sociable knitting group which I created in Manchester. As it wove itself into my life over the past year, it’s given so much more back to me in return; it’s changed my life for the better. When life started to surprise me with plot twists, Stitch & Bitch remained a constant for me. I clung onto the group through the waves of heaviness that life kept pushing at me and poured whatever I had left within me to build an environment I’d end up needing more than anyone.

I moved to Manchester in 2021- the northern big smoke, the second biggest affiliation to the big M after McDonald’s. I’m from Blackpool, Sandgrown; an area recognised for its depravity and reputation of being unorthodox for the wrong reasons. Blackpool had the lowest life expectancy in the country in 2022. In 2020 it was recognised as one of the toughest towns to be a female in, in terms of rights, opportunities and safety. These are two colossal statistics, and within those numbers there are real people who are being failed by a higher power. I wonder which opportunities I could have missed out on as a female from Blackpool? I believe this is what inspired me to create a group which is inclusive, affordable and compassionate about all obstacles people face, drawing people together in unity and conversation. 

The disparity created by our current government and people’s reality of it is becoming more worlds apart. Yet living in the vicinity, I’m privileged to be influenced by its tense community ties. Its dependence on activism and ‘people power’ has resonated with me into bringing people together on a higher level. Blackpool has these statistics, and it has its negative stereotypes, but it is a force to be reckoned with. When I refer to Blackpool, I don’t mean the place, but the people as a collective; the resilience; the time people have for others, is truly admirable. My mum, my grandma and my great grandmother were all single mothers. They taught me to be stoic, to soak the juice out of life no matter how dry and mundane it can seem. 

Not long before I moved away from Blackpool, I had an amygdala hijack; the amygdala is the small, bean-shaped emotion processor in our brain. A hijack is initiated by immense stress, and induces all consuming anger. At this moment, no other part of the brain functions; you can’t speak; you don’t remember what happened; you’re only capable of displaying total rage. It was never within my nature and it was completely unforeseen. I was inconsolable with relentless guilt afterwards, and it’s through speaking to my GP which really helped me to unpick the tight knot of anxiety and shame I felt afterwards. Acknowledging that I had underlying anxiety that I was suppressing to a dangerous extent has shaped me into a different, but better, person today. 

My frustration was burgeoning through lockdown. I often become vexed about wasting my life – not achieving anything; not accomplishing anything, to the point I was sat frozen and trapped in my own thoughts. My escape would be a cold walk on the beach with my grandma and dog, Doug. We’d put the world to rights together. A single mother and an only child household is an intense family dynamic. I was blessed to have my mum raise me and have my grandma right by our side as it transpired me into the sort of person who sees things a bit differently. It wasn’t the same cookie-cut shaped family everyone else around me had, but it was perfect. 

My entire existence orbited around my mum and grandma. Our love languages were all so different, but together we were a unit. That being said, I’d never met anyone with the same family background as me. In extreme hindsight, I can say I’m grateful for the COVID period. When rules would allow, I spent more time with my grandma, which wouldn’t have happened if I’d gone travelling as planned.

The thing I truly cherish about Stitch and Bitch, is the way I have connected and related to so many inspiring people about things that used to alienate me

Once I was settled into Manchester, I knew there were plenty of new doors to be opened; it was just a matter of finding them. I wanted to meet new people, learn a new hobby and get myself out of the flat all in one full swoop. I tried pole dancing; I’ve seen a lot of people doing it, looking elegant and sexy, as if it were effortless. They fooled me into thinking I could do it too. I also attended the spinny pole classes. Right in the last minute of one class, I hopped off of the pole, landing big-toe first. Yep, that was broken for sure. Somehow nobody noticed, so I secretly hobbled out of the class, God loves a trier, eh? I then tried female skateboarding nights, again in complete admiration for the gorgeous and fearless ladies skating above my head. I, however, am not fearless. Getting two feet on the board whilst it was moving gave me heart palpitations. And I did keep practising, all through my year in Manchester, but if you asked if I could skateboard, I’d reply with a big fat no.

So, then comes the grand revelation of Stitch and Bitch; the moment the epiphany planted itself in my brain. I had recently started knitting to substitute scrolling my phone for hours. My incredible friend Hope had come round and I showed her my progress. She then wanted to learn it for herself, and so commenced our afternoon activities knitting in the sun.

Manchester is full of gorgeously friendly people, I knew there were people who would put themselves out there and meet others, but where? How? I turned to Hope: “Imagine if there was a group for young females who met up and knit, but it’s primarily about the socialising element, to unite people, start friendships and become an alliance, with the opportunity to skill share and trade strengths with each other.” 

The universe must have made sure it was Hope and nobody else who was next to me in that moment – she is the best hype woman. She solidified the idea into a realistic, yet, successful construction of how many females there were like ourselves who wanted their own productive and sociable union. It covered every dimension of what I had been looking for in Manchester; a social group; an inexpensive and accessible skill; and I would relieve my own inner-frustrations of not achieving anything. 

I’d found my door, and I was ready to open it! A few days later, I posted in female Facebook groups about the idea of a Stitch & Bitch group. I’d recently adopted the very scientific notion that ‘we’re living on a floating rock’ to embellish how small our own worries and doubts really are in scope of the entire universe. It helped put my anxiety and negative thoughts to bed. That didn’t stop me from running and hiding from my laptop for a few hours to avoid seeing any of the slander or ridicule that I’d possibly serrated for myself, by sharing my idea online. And this is why we have to fight our inner cynicism; because the rhetoric confirmed that this was wanted widely in Manchester and across the country. Setting up the group was easy, I found a lovely family run cafe in the northern quarter and set up an Instagram. My mum asked her Facebook friends for equipment donations and from then on boxes were constantly coming to me through the post! 

I never completely envisioned how the group would work. I realised quickly that people came for the social side. I try to mix things up every couple of weeks; I’ve done bead nights, polymer-clay workshops, book swaps, food-bank collections, wool swaps; anything we can do to make our own small difference with minimal cost. Creating something, and seeing a finished result increased our serotonin and it made us feel good. 

The thing I truly cherish about Stitch and Bitch, is the way I have connected and related to so many inspiring people about things that used to alienate me. I’ve made friends who have similar backgrounds, upbringings and single parent families like myself. Venting about absent fathers was truly blissful. 

I was diagnosed with dyspraxia when I was 16. I didn’t meet another dyspraxic female until I set the group up at age 22. It was the first time I could laugh with someone about being chronically clumsy, a bit scruffy and feeling the utter burnout from trying to keep up with the pace of the world when you live with slower motor skills. I think this is what made me more prone to having an amygdala hijack. As hard as I try, I feel like I can’t keep up with life’s pace. There are so many small quirks about me which are rooted by being dyspraxic as well as a neurodivergent female, and talking to someone else like me was better than therapy. 

I’ve had other conversations about the difficulties for females to get a diagnosis for neurodivergence, which is a national struggle. Males and females, particularly in autism, display their mannerisms in completely different ways. Female mannerisms are overlooked as hormonal, weak or even just stubbornness. The waiting list for tests is incredulous, it took me three years to get a test for dyspraxia. I know there are people out there not receiving support, people feeling pressured and inferior especially within the educational sphere. Some people might fall through the cracks and it wouldn’t be their fault. 

Being dyspraxic has taught me new methods of learning; it’s given me a different perspective on how we treat our minds, and most paramount, having patience. It took me a long time to learn how to knit, but my grandma taught me and she was a patient queen. I have to be patient and kind to myself to learn things which involve fine motor skills and ensure I don’t jeopardise my amygdala. Whenever new people come and learn to knit, I implore them that they will manage it, as they’re already at a better advantage than me, and I have the patience to keep going over and over until they’ve learnt it. I would say over 100 people have learnt to knit through Stitch and Bitch. That’s a big part of my grandma stitched into me which is now stitched into everyone who’s come to support us.

On mothers day 2022, my grandma passed away. She was 68, she was healthy, and she was so loved. She didn’t wake up for us, even though she laid her clothes out for the next day, and that’s how unexpected life can be. I still don’t understand why we had to lose her like that. The sheer shock made my grief numb and utterly confusing. She was my sanctuary; everything was right in the world when I was with her. I struggle to validate my grief for her because she was so much more than a grandparent to me. I’d see her nearly everyday and her way of loving was so unique – everyone who knows me knows how much I’ve lost. 

By this point, people in the group knew my love for my grandma, and I felt so supported within our little community. I held a bead night for charity in my grandma’s name, and we raised £230. Around this time, I was a grief-stricken vessel – I didn’t know who I was without my grandma. She had become part of the lowest life-rate statistics even though she was the person who made growing up in Blackpool so beautiful when I was a girl. 

I kept running Stitch & Bitch. However, my confidence was gone and I was riddled with anxiety, much like the shy girl I was in school. But Stitch and Bitch was a great consistency for me, a lifeline, almost. The audacity of the world moving on; time moving forward when you’re still stuck in grief, was abhorrent to me. There were some people who had experienced grief before me so I could go and talk about my grandma and feel listened to and supported. I’d created my own safe space, which at the beginning I didn’t know would be needed so much. I might not have been the social butterfly I used to be, but I was truly happy to be there. The first time I felt truly happy after my grandma passed was when Rosa, one of our members, passed me an invitation to her wedding; the fact she wanted to share such a special occasion with a friend who she had met solely through Stitch and Bitch made me realise that I was right to keep Stitch & Bitch going.

I’ve made friends who have similar backgrounds, upbringings and single parent families like myself. Venting about absent fathers was truly blissful

Now, in 2023, I’ve just finished travelling for five months. I went with one of my best friends who I met through Stitch and Bitch. I would never have gone without meeting her, not having the confidence to travel alone and three incredible ladies kept the group running for me. 

Coming back, I have a fresh mind and my passion for the group has been revitalised. I’ve realised that even though life won’t be the same without my grandma, it’s still allowed to be good, or even beautiful. And in fact, I won’t settle for anything less. I have started making enquiries about funding so that I can put more energy into it. One of our members asked me about creating a group in Sheffield and it is flourishing. I would love to spread the group around, I have seen there are others around the country and I would love to attend every single one at some point. Rosa is expecting her first child and because we’re all so close we get to share the adventure with her and support her, and see the amazing mother she is going to be.

I believe every part of my past, both the good times and the tricky times, have pushed me onto an incredible path of running Stitch and Bitch. I’m excited to put energy into new things for the group and I’m even more excited to see where the group will take me next.