No More Hiding: Letting Go At Last

Prayer is an intricate part of my healing journey. One of the many things I've prayed for is the ability to see myself through my own eyes...not the eyes of my parents.

It took some time before I realized that I did not know myself or see myself as ought to. I only saw what my parents taught me to see. I saw a life not worth living beyond the service I provided. I put all others before myself, fulfilling their needs...my sole priority. I saw ability that would never be recognized and a thirst that would never be quenched. Deprivation was my reward and pain my only inheritance.

It's also very difficult to see yourself when you are not allowed to make even the most simple decisions for yourself. Hair was one of those things that seemed to be more of an issue than need be.

I used to sit in front of my mirror every evening and cry. My hair was always the same. Two or three ponytails with huge ribbons or bows that matched my outfit. This is how I looked everyday. I hated it and I hated my mother for making me look like this.

When I closed my eyes I could see myself with very long hair, but the hair looked strange to me. It looked like braids but it wasn't braided. I didn't know what locks were and had no idea that was the hairstyle I envisioned. I would also see myself with huge hair, wild and curly...unruly. I loved seeing myself like that. Then I'd open my eyes again to see what was still my reality and I retreated further into myself.

One day, I asked my mom if I could wear my hair braided. Absolutely not, she said. I asked, why? Mom turned to me as if to give a life lesson. She said, wearing your hair natural will only make you look ignorant. You must straighten your hair so people will think of you as intelligent. My heart sank and so did my head as I slowly walked back to my room to sit in front of my mirror and cry. I've never forgotten her words. 

It would not be until I was in my mid 30s that I would be able to stand up to my mother and tell her how I wanted to wear my hair. I guess you may be wondering why it took so long for me to do this. All I can say is if you have to ask then you don't know what it is to have controlling parents. You can't begin to fathom what it is to be under such tight control and scrutiny. Every independent decision outside of what my parents wanted was made with great trembling and sacrifice. My parents did not take disobedience kindly and any act of disobedience was met with intense cruelty and degradation...no matter my age.

Finally, I broke free from one of the chains that bound me. I cut off all the permed hair and I wore my hair braided for a few years. A week before my 40th birthday I felt a strong urge to begin twisting my hair. I always knew I was going to lock my hair one day, but wasn't sure when. The day had come and I gave into the call. I wore my hair locked for 9 years. I loved my hair. The first time I looked in the mirror and saw my locks in their full light I knew I had finally seen the vision of myself that I saw so many years ago. For once, I stood in front of my mirror and smiled.

During the ninth year of my locks a terrible thing happened. My eczema took a turn for the worse spreading over most of my body including my scalp. Having no insurance at the time, I fought with all I had to remedy my skin, paying cash for doctor appointments to get prescriptions for topical ointments. I also used tea tree oil and soap (natural anti-fungal), a probiotic and diphenhydramine to help with itching. There was little I could do to and save my hair. My skin is much better, but my hair was lost. Locks fell daily, one sometimes two at a time. There was nothing I could do to save them. Each fallen lock was mourned and put away.

It's been about a year since loosing the first lock. I stood in front of my mirror looking at  the few remaining locks and thought to myself...why are you hiding? I've spent the last year trying to hold on to something that cannot stay. All I could see was massive loss. My identity...my beauty...my independence...my strength and everything else my locks represented was gone. I've been stripped. There's no where else to hide.

About a month ago I cut off my remaining locks and placed them in a bag where all fallen locks are kept. I stood there squeezing the bag close to my chest, making peace with my decision. It is time for me to face myself. This time in my most natural state. My prayers were being answered, though I had not realized it yet.

I Am As I Am

One more look in the mirror.
There I stand.
Hair shorter than ever.

I began to cry,
Only this time it wasn't tears of sadness,
But tears of joy and relief.

I am free, I said.
No more hiding.
I no longer need my locks to be my identity.

Nor do I need my locks to be,
My strength, my beauty,
Or proclamation of indoctrination of my mind and spirit.

I am just as I am,
And ought to be.
For the first time I see me.

I am budding and soon will be in full bloom.
My inner light fills the room.
I lean forward taking a closer look.

I am just as I am,
As I ought to be.
And I'm loving everything I see.

For the first time,
With my own eyes,
I can see me.
 

Happy Anniversary - March 25, 2014

February 25, 2014. One month ago today I was sitting at my computer feeling utterly defeated and lost. I wanted to write something...anything, but there was nothing. I'd run out of things to say. Opening all of my blogs, I wait...waited in silence for a pulse. Thoughts of events from past weeks, months and years streamed through my mind and still nothing. I thought, should I wipe the slate clean. Start over again. I've tried lending myself to the thought of waiting for direction, but direction never came...not really. With each post the strain to find the words or some measure of feeling increased. Desperate to reach others, I neglected to see that I had not reached myself. I'm still reaching... I closed all of the blogs accept the one called "Night Eating Syndrome." The last post was dated June 22, 2013.


A threshold of discovery was before me. I couldn't see it. Couldn't fathom it. Time stands still as I lift my hands and place them on the keyboard. Tears well in my eyes as I pray to God to let me feel something...see something...say something...tangible. And then there was a shift. I felt a lifting as if a lid opened slightly allowing a little part of me to escaped. Soon after, there was vision for a blog long since dead, now resuscitated. A new post ready to publish. The shift not yet complete. When something dies and is reborn it is no longer the same. It is renewed and therefore needs a new name, "Eating My Pain." Yes, that's what I've been doing all along. Thank you God!! Relief.


I realized I was ready. Finally ready to face the whole ugly truth behind my hurtful habits. I wanted nothing more than to let everything flow from the most honest part of my being. No matter what, I will speak my truth. I will write as if no one is reading. That is the promise I made to myself that day. And so I began. And here we are.


Today in honor of our first month anniversary, I am going to write a post by request. A dear friend suggested that I write about the things that I like about myself. This is no easy task. I was thrilled when I first read her request and then immediately went into panic. I rarely ever think about what I like about myself. In fact, after giving this request careful thought I still find it difficult to think about things I like about myself.


This year is the year of courage. I knew it before the new year came in. I am having to deal with obstacles from a deeper source. There's no more façade. All superficial layers have been pulled back, exposing mental and emotional scars. That being said,


The first thing that I will list that I like about myself is my God given ability to assess, process and build therapies and coping skills for all of my issues.


I like the unique way I think about things and how I am able to see literal truths even though truths are sometimes ugly.


I like the strength of my mind even though it has dimmed a little with age.


I like having regained my ability to express myself through poetry and other writings.


I like having an ability to tell stories and harness emotions in my drawings.


I like how I can create vivid life in grey scale.


I like having the gift of sight through many senses.


I've that I've just learned to like the sound of my own voice.


I like having locks and seeing how their growth depicts the past 8 years of my life, showing strengths and weaknesses and yet they are still beautiful.


I like that I am learning to like myself more.


I like that I am striving to have healthy honest relationships.


I like being able to be completely honest with myself.


I like who I am as a mom, friend, family member even though I am unfamiliar with the core of my being.


I like that I am learning to see myself through my own eyes and not the eyes of my tormentors.


I like being less afraid of the roadblocks that are part of my journey to freedom.


I like having a love of sharing information and learning.


I like the fact that I can think of things that I like about myself. Things that I've seldom put thought to.


Wow! I didn't think I would have this many things listed. Tonight as I sit quietly in my room, I will reflect on this post. I'll keep a notepad nearby in case other likes come to mind. This has been a very good exercise and a wonderful way to celebrate my commitment to writing this blog. Thank you again, my friend for your suggestion.


Today I did not eat breakfast. Lunch was at 12:37pm. I ate 3 leftover salmon fritters, two scrambled eggs with cheese and a cup of water. Tonight is burger night. I feel strong that I will not order extra food.


Many thanks to all of you for your support, kind words and wisdom. Thank you for inspiring me to dig deeper and thank you for allowing me to inspire you. Onward and Upward as we pick up the pieces one by one, together.