The Subtraction

About three years ago, I began to seriously contemplate my death although I didn’t know it then.  I was fretting over wanting to get a haircut and not knowing where to go, having made a decision to go ‘au natural’ with my silver hair color after dying for 30 years.  One might say that I’ve lived in a rainbow of hair colors.  From the darkest blacks to bleached blonde, I’ve run the gamut of natural and unnatural hair colors.  In 1983, we had the purple period; circa 1999 was my best blonde look.  Looking for the perfect salon to tell me the perfect hair color/cut/style that would make be feel better about myself was a daunting task that had gone awry many years prior.   At the same time, I was diagnosed with a tumor that was found on accident during a routine dental exam.  How random, I thought when, in fact, both were a part of a larger plan that I see with some hindsight.

Faced with the uncertainty of life in a small parathyroid tumor in my neck and seeing my own personal situation changing to a health emergency, I ceased to worry or be concerned about what haircut will make me feel beautiful.  My need for an improved self-worth no longer absorbed my full focus and, putting my neck-length hair into a simple clip, I got on the road to wellness. 

During my surgery to remove the tumor, cancer was randomly found and required additional treatment and the removal of my thyroid.  The idea of my death also began to ruminate in my mind so the idea that I could have been living with cancer and was unaware really stuck a fork in my thinking.  The cancer had been a surprise yet I still had my hair on my mind and began to contemplate life with a wig.  I guess when we don’t feel well physically, the idea of my hair became a welcome distraction because it was within my control.  It’s like the super-serious life and death questions needed to be countered with the superficial parts of my life like a hair style.  The idea seemed absurd in comparison to my logical mind yet my emotions embraced the comparison, turning it over in my head on a constant stream of thinking.  Until that point, my mortality hadn’t been a factor in my decision-making about daily life.  As an event at some future point, my demise was a necessary part of life but did not encompass any more thought than that.

Then I had a “dream” which I quote because the “dream” was more of a vision.  Unlike my dreams that would take me on journeys or activities, this vision was more of an instant “flash” that I saw in my mind’s eye.  I’m calling this a vision because it was different, like a foretelling so the idea of a “dream” seems to light or fluffy.

In my vision, I am floating above a woman below me who I believe is also me.  It is a quick flash of sight but full of richness in how I felt. I see the back of her/me.  It is daylight and I feel the light shining through the many windows as if it were mid-morning or early afternoon. We are in an open kitchen/breakfast area/living space as I see an expanse of light floor tiles throughout the space.  To my right is a breakfast bar and kitchen area. I feel like I’m moving through the space to my office or for another purpose.  I have a long, single, gray braid down my back; that is what I focus on.  I’m wearing a flowing top and skirt that “swishes” and “tinkles” as I move with an ethereal quality almost akin to Tinkerbell. My clothing tinkles with small wind chimes that make a musical noise as I walk; I’m carrying a large hand-thrown mug of herbal tea. I’m graceful in my movement, light and airy.  It was then that I realized in my split-second vision that this woman was me.

I woke up knowing that I had envisioned myself at some future state.  The most startling besides the gray braid was the confidence I embodied. This was unfamiliar to me in this form as my confidence up this point had been based on my achievements and not just being alive. Unlike my current hair, my braid was thick, ropy, and elegantly hung with a simple tie at the bottom ending at my lower back. I was happy and felt fulfilled but as a core state that was emanating from me, not an external causation. 

Instead of removing my hair to achieve a personal sense of style and confidence, I began to grow my hair, and to exercise improved patience and acceptance with myself.  As my hair began to grow, I lovingly tended to it while also working on my health.  The reconciliation of both created an understanding in me that, during my own wobbles, I believed that I should subtract a part of myself to achieve my desired state of being. For me to be me, I needed to be less than.  How had I allowed myself to believe all of those who belittled me?  When did I begin to believe that I needed to be smaller, both in size and mind? 

I began to grow my hair to prove all of those school yard bullies wrong.  Your labeling of me had no meaning in my life and no longer defines me. To all of those young boys who teased me about myself, shame on you. How sad your lives must have been to take your misery out on me, a poor, defenseless ten-year old girl who stood out.

I began to grow my hair to stand out.  After hiding myself in clothing that was too big and too masculine, believing that I was not pretty enough for feminine touches or tighter fits. Why show off my better parts when everything was lousy and ugly?

I began to grow my hair to exercise and hone my patience with myself and others.  Waiting for my hair to grow and nurture it through conscientious trimming and styling resulted in taking time to develop my sense of style. I was okay with waiting to see what was next on my new horizon.

I began to grow my hair for those who still continue to believe that “less than” is an appropriate behavior and mindset.  Stopping the idea that I have to settle for less than I (or you) deserve.  When we show up to take what we deserve, we become who we truly are meant to be.

I began to grow my hair for all of those young women who suffer through no fault of their own yet they are made to feel less than by those who truly are less than. Please listen to your inner voice. It is powerful, durable, and a true guide.

I grow my hair for all of those times I was told that I had such a beautiful face and what a shame it was that my body was overweight.  This was the compliment I would get.  It never occurred to me to be angry because if these were meant to be hurtful, why would they tell me?

I was and am beautiful. I may believe it one day.

I continue to grow my hair for me.  Each day, when I style my hair, I’m reminded about how to show up and be myself and not subtract which, unfortunately, is my “go to” coping mechanism for all things difficult.  I’m reminded not to lower myself to someone else’s expectations of what is appropriate behavior for me. 

I style my hair simply to my desires.  Early in my life, I began to wish I was invisible.  I’d hide in corners or dark spaces, or hide in plain sight behind my own lack of esteem. Today, my silver mane stands out and that is okay.

Note: The author’s hair, like her confidence, continues to grow.