What you’re about to read is a story. A story not only about myself, but about why you should feel comfortable coming to me for your handmade hats, and winter accessory needs…

It isn’t easy to put your true self out there for strangers to read about. However, I want you to understand exactly how this whole hat making thing came to be. you should feel confident in knowing that your handmade purchases will be well made with your needs in mind. in addition, you should also know where I came from, where I’ve been, and exactly how far I’ve come. Furthermore, you should know exactly how much effort I put into constantly honing my skill & always learning more. you should fully understand how dedicated I am, and the true reason why. Likewise, you should know that I won’t be going anywhere, or doing anything short of striving to one day make this hat and yarn making thing go as far as it can possibly go. This is is my calling, and the following story is the reason why….

My parents moved from California to Tennessee before I was even conceived…

So when I was a little girl, we would all pack up most summers, and fly to California to visit our family. Now bear in mind that my family has never been one of those close-knit, keep in touch, family reunion types. So I dearly treasured every one of those visits, and still recall them as being filled with wonder and laughter these many decades later. The memories are all that I now have left. But there was something special about Grandpa Jack & Grandma Jewel’s house that I especially recall very vividly.

Grandma Jewel always kept boxes filled with crafting essentials stuffed in every corner, and stacked high in every room. Yarn, yarn, and more yarn was piled and scattered all over the house. It was a child’s dream… an exotic wonderland of crochet misfit toys. It was perfect for keeping little hands busy and the imagination blooming. In hindsight, Grandma Jewel may have been a bit of a hoarder. However, I loved every second of digging through her endless boxes of tangled treasures.

Grandma Jewel finally taught me to crochet when I was 12. Probably to calm me down, and keep me from getting into shit, but I loved every nuance and every stitch of it. I took to that crochet hook like a fish being dragged from a stream. I never really did more than crochet things for friends and family for many years, until one reckless event altered everything I’d ever known.

OK, A bit more of a necessary backstory here…

I dropped out of school in the 10th grade, and got my GED. Tried college a few times, but it never seemed to work out in my favor. I’ve always been a bit on the chatty side, so the service industry was what I naturally gravitated toward. It was all I really knew how to do.

Tending bar, catering, waiting tables, and flirting with the kitchen staff was seriously fun for me. It paid the bills, provided me me with a crazy social life, and allowed me to talk as much as I wanted.  furthermore, I was always lucky enough to land gigs where the occasional cocktail(s) while on the job weren’t exactly frowned upon, which made it even more fun. Until suddenly, one single night changed my life forever…

October 27, 2008…

Coming home late from work in the wee hours of the morning, I passed out behind the wheel of my little 1984 Toyota Supra, and drove headlong into oncoming traffic. That little Supra was mangle completely under a semi tractor trailer. I was pronounced DOA, but woke up a couple of days later at Vanderbilt hospital with my left arm and leg completely crushed. Titanium rods and many, many screws were holding most of me together. I was all stitched up like Sally on The Nightmare Before Christmas. 

Bed-bound and in a wheelchair, I began to resent every single thing about life. Make-up, nail polish, and all of the little things that were always so important to me, were suddenly hindrances to add to the list of things that I was unable to do for myself. I couldn’t even fix my own hair due to my dead, lifeless arm. So I asked my mom if she would pick up some yarn at the craft store. I hoped that I could attempt to make a hat to cover up my short, unruly head of hair on the dreaded days when she’d put me in my wheelchair, and force me out of the house.

The yarn was purchased…

And holding down the tail end of that fluffy, pink and gray loveliness with the hand that I had no feeling in, I slowly began crocheting myself a hat with the one good hand that I still had use of. I couldn’t get the seems to match up along the bottom. Instead of crying about it, i flipped up the edge that was jacked up, and stitched a few buttons over it to mask my imperfections. I began wearing that hat every time my momma dragged me out of the house.

Suddenly, those wheelchair outings went from enduring the uncomfortable, pitying glances from strangers, to being approached by said strangers asking, “Where in the world did you get your hat? I want one!”

And so The Head Shack was born.

A decade later, I still can’t feel most of my hand.  My orthopedic surgeon (my honest to god true freaking hero) at Vanderbilt informed me that there was every possibility that I’d never have any use of it again. So the first thing I learned to do, after much physical therapy, was to smile with pride as I used that hand to teasingly flip him the bird. (I’m not much for being told that I can’t do things.)

After even more therapy, (and a whole lot of time) I finally got it to move around and do most of what I need it to do. The wheelchair finally faded away and became a thing of the past as well. This titanium leg of mine still persists in being an occasional asshole. However, I’m now able to walk unassisted, most of the time without limping. It’s also become useful enough to peddle a double-treadle spinning wheel as I began to explore a newfound love of spinning and creating my own yarn in addition to designing hats for people all over the globe.

Yarn is my life…

There will never be enough of it. Yarn got me through the darkest point of my existence. It provides me with the ability to create happiness for others by designing the many hats and other products that my clients know that I put time, love and thought into. It also provides me with the ability to help financially support myself now that I’m unable to do all of the things that I once could. And as it turns out…I’m damn good at it.

The accident that I thought had ruined my life forever? Yeah…it turned out to be one of the best things that ever happened to me. Funny how life works, isn’t it? One day you are quite literally at rock bottom. Then, something as simple as a skein of yarn gives you a little glimmer of hope.  And as you slowly climb back to the land of the living, you realize…It’s time to get your head right.


By: Shauna Sessions 

**Please feel free to share my story via the Social links located at the top and bottom of this page. Even if it only helps to encourage one single person to crawl out of their darkest, rock bottom place, that’s enough for me. There were many details left out of this story, and maybe one day I’ll be brave enough to open up and share a little more. Until then, Thank you for listening <3



Reviews from Facebook and Etsy…

***D.L. wrote- This fiber artist is amazing. An experienced spinner, she creates beautiful, unique head gear from homespun yarn. This shop is a must to visit for gifts or better yet, for yourself.

***L.B.W. wrote- Wow! What amazing work! Hard to choose. l am deciding I need to get from The Head Shack TODAY!

***W.C. wrote- Fabulous seller and beautiful hat! Love it!!!!!

***C.C. wrote- One of my favorite sellers. Definitely my favorite for hats! She does very high quality work-you’ll treasure for life! And her prices are beyond reasonable for workmanship and materials she uses. The tag is a great handmade touch…

One Comment

  • Virginia

    I’m in awe of your struggles and how you managed to turn lemons 🍋 into refreshing lemonade. God bless you Shauna 🥰

Leave A Reply So I know You Stopped By

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.