[Disclosure: this review was written for the Tasmanian Times]
Waking up from another round of electro-convulsive therapy (aka ‘shock therapy’) left Anna Jacobson, in her early 20’s, completely disassociated from her memory, her life and her ‘self’. Who was she? How did she get all the small wounds? Who was the madwoman she’d heard had repeatedly tried to violently escape the locked psychiatric institute she found herself in?
How Anna Jacobson reassembled her ‘self’ from clues, and the memories of others, via the support of her family, friends and colleagues, is the story of How To Knit A Human.
Following a horrific psychotic event, Jacobson spends the next few years gathering the tattered strands of half-remembered moments, accepts the kindnesses of others, deals with the grind of mental health support, rides the rollercoaster of anti-psychotic medications, then weaves the strands together, hoping to create a self she could recognise and care about.
Loose threads replace my body.
Frays appear unseen over time.
Threads unravel – gripped and pulled
by hundreds of invisible pincers.
Now I knit myself back into a human.
It’s hard work relearning the steps –
slip-stitch, drop-stitch, pick-up stitch, loop.
I get into a rhythm. The pattern is complex –
I drop a few stitches.
The holes form gaps in my memory.
If this all sounds too awful for a readable book, it’s actually not. Surprisingly, this is a warmly engaging story that doesn’t shy from the harsh realities, but weaves it all into a satisfying fabric. The intriguing paradox of how Jacobson could write a memoir when her memory has been erased is resolved by hard work on her part, and a great deal of luck. The family and friends who accept her struggle and support her journey, and those mental health professionals who manage, despite their training, to do the same, are, along with the meds, her life-savers. Without them all, it’s easy to imagine Jacobson sinking beyond anyone’s help.
Our mental health services are in perennial crisis, and while those in extreme needs get acute support, and those with affordably manageable issues can get moderate levels of support, those who fall between the very wide and deep cracks have only themselves and those around them to depend on for survival.
Jacobson writes and creates art to help herself heal, and with How To Knit A Human, she hopes to help others who struggle ‘feel less alone’ with their experiences. With this work, I think she’s achieved both.