Forty. Flipping. Years.

Today is my 40th birthday. A milestone, or so everyone keeps telling me. But honestly? I still feel like I’m 19 on the inside. Okay, maybe 27 on a responsible day. Even though I definitely creak like I’m 80 some mornings.

I always thought I’d feel more together by now. Like, “owns matching Tupperware” together. Like I’d know what I was doing, maybe even have a 5-year plan. Instead, I’m out here making it up as I go. Which, frankly, has been my lifelong brand.

Forty has a way of making you take stock of where you’ve been, where you’re headed, and whether you’re still pretending to like Lima beans. My path hasn’t been traditional. It’s been creative, squiggly, and very much hands-on.

I’ve never been the sit-still-and-take-notes type. School was...meh. More my sister’s scene. Me? I’ve always been the restless, let-me-touch-it learner probably ADHD, probably obvious, definitely always moving. That’s why hairdressing fit so well. I got to create beauty with my hands and heart.

But the truth is, my crafting journey didn’t start behind the chair. It started in my childhood bedroom, with a squeaky ball of Red Heart yarn and a pair of dark brown wooden needles.

I was 8 years old when my mom taught me to knit. She sat beside me, showing me the same way her mother had shown her. My mom knits English style, but I was a stubborn little thing (some things never change), and it just felt... wrong in my tiny hands. English knitting felt clunky and awkward. Like trying to knit while wearing oven mitts. I got the gist, but it didn’t click. So I tucked it away for a while.

Over the years, knitting has drifted in and out of my life like an old friend, the kind you don’t talk to every day, but always feel at home with when you reconnect. I’d pick it up for a while, then set it aside when life got busy, knowing it would be there when I was ready again.

When I was 21, I worked at Toni & Guy and would bring my knitting to work, proudly embracing my early grandma era. On breaks, I’d plop myself in the chairs near Belk, shoutout to Carolina Place Mall, and stitch my way through whatever pattern had caught my eye from the overpriced book I had to have. A few coworkers started knitting too, after watching me. Trendsetter status: unlocked.

Back then I started to get an itch for something more just wouldn’t go away. I was tired of the bland, scratchy yarn at big box stores, bless them, and the sticker shock at my local yarn shop had me clutching my pearls. I wanted rich colorways. Squishier bases. Something bold and beautiful that didn’t cost my entire grocery budget. I sat with that craving for a while… okay, a fifteen years.

Ten years ago, I finally bought a spinning wheel. And y’all — it was magical. Making my own yarn from fluff? Heaven. But real talk: spinning isn’t always practical. Even with years of practice, there’s still a certain “handspun wobble” that’s charming but not right for every project. 

So I pivoted. Enter: hand-dyeing. I started playing with dye. I wanted to create yarn that felt exciting and expressive, the kind I had always wished existed at a price I didn’t need to hide from my spouse.

And then last year? Life went full reality check. I got hit with some pretty serious health issues that shook things up. I had to pause, reevaluate, and ask the scary question: What am I actually doing with my time?

I love making people feel beautiful through hair. I’m damn good at it. But if I’m being real with myself? It’s not my passion. It’s a job. A respectable, skilled, meaningful job — but not the one that lights me up inside.

Knitting is the thread that’s always been there. From the 8-year-old with the Red Heart skein, to the 21-year-old mall knitter, or to the 40-year-old woman finally giving herself permission to stop shrinking.

So here I am, once again learning something new. Taking all my color knowledge and unleashing it on yarn. Playing. Making a mess. Laughing. Creating. Falling in love with knitting all over again. Not just as a maker, but as a dreamer.

I’m stepping out of the boxes I let define me for way too long, “I’m not the smart one,” “I just do hair.” Nope. Not anymore.

I’m doing new things. I’m taking over 20 years of color experience and applying it in fresh, exciting ways. I’m taking 30+ years of reading patterns and finally starting to write my own.

And I’m surrounding myself with fiber friends, wildly creative, endlessly supportive, and delightfully weird in all the right ways. My people.

And if you’re out there too, feeling like you missed your moment, or wondering if it’s too late to do that thing you’ve always secretly loved, I hope you know it’s not. Not even close.

Go back to that thing that made you feel like you. The quiet hobby. The little obsession. The thing you used to do for fun before the world told you to be “productive.”

Because maybe the next chapter of your story isn’t about becoming someone new.
Maybe it’s about finally being who you’ve been all along.