Last night I dreamed that my hair had fallen out. I came out of the shower and I was holding a big huge clump of hair in my hand as proof. “See. I told you.” I said to my husband and children. That’s all I remember. And, I’m not very big into examining my dreams (or listening to other people prattle on about their dreams) but since it stuck with me all morning at breakfast, on my walk, in the shower and in my car ride to meet a friend for coffee I decided that since I was early and she would be late that I should look up the meaning of ‘hair falling out in a dream.’ This is what I found on the magical world wide web:
“To dream that you are losing your hair signifies a lack of strength; you do not have the power to succeed in an undertaking. You may be feeling weak and vulnerable.”
I had time so I checked a few other online sites. They all pretty much said the same thing. Powerlessness. The subconscious is struggling with a feeling of inferiority and ‘lack of.’
I’ve been working my ass off for years. I’ve been home with my kids for almost thirteen years and I’m so grateful for that. (And if you know my kids you would know how our hard work has paid off as they are for the most part, well adjusted little so and sos). Beyond wiping boogers, making meals, praising good manners, cleaning dirty bottoms, re-learning math skills, supervising punk asses and breaking up ‘mine’ fights, I’ve also been writing. Some good stuff, some okay stuff, and some not so good stuff. But whatever - doing the work - writing and writing and knowing that every word, every sentence was propelling me further, making me better, teaching me. One of the most annoying things to hear after working for a solid year on a project is, "That's great! Keep at it!" When what you think at that time that you want to hear is - "This is the best thing ever written - Here's a trillion dollars!" But, when you break it down, the underlying thing about writing, as with any art form, truly is a desire to express oneself and make a connection with another. To my mind, I try to write, good, thoughtful pieces and if they connect or someone else can identify with them it’s an incredibly gratifying experience. It feels purposeful.
So, my kids need me a wee bit less since my little one started preschool and I’ve been capitalizing on that and writing and putting some stuff out there and connecting (!) and putting more and more stuff out there and thereby I’ve been getting some attention for it and planets are aligning and despite my bravado it can be a pretty scary, humbling experience. It's a vulnerable place. And as much as I say to myself in a hardcore Boston accent during the day-light hours, ‘If they don’t like it, fuck ‘em!’ I guess there’s just a part of that sentiment that maybe isn’t the whole story and that little nugget, that little bastard doubting thought, crept in to my bed last night and ripped my frickin’ hair out! The fucker.
So, it’s a bit of a battle - the knowing of one’s true self and operating from a place of honesty to create material of value coupled with one’s desire to not give a hoot what others think or say but still creating with the intention to connect with others and discovering there's a balance. But, you know, I’ve always been a fighter... I guess I’ll just keep on fighting the good fight - which is to say, not fighting it, but accepting it for what it is, truth, and then surrendering to it, looking for and then finding what is truly the most important thing of all - peace.
On the other hand, I also need a haircut so the dream could’ve just been about that, so I called my beautiful hairdresser friend and made an appointment. The universe helps those who help themselves, after all…