All posts by Angel

The First Step

catchme

I’ve wanted to own my own business for years. It’s been a constant dream of mine, as constant as my dream of true love (which I did eventually find in my husband).

So I step on the path, saying to myself, “This time I’m going to do it. This time I’m going to work and create my own business. I have an idea. I have a capable competent business partner. I can do it!”

And then I sit at my desk, and I crumble. I crumble into tiny bits of defeated dust that blow away in the wind. My own negativity destroys me.

The old wisdom is to not listen to the naysayers. Surround yourself by people who support your creativity and dreams, and ignore those who would clip your wings with their words. But what if the most relentless and negative of all the naysayers is actually your own voice in your own head? What if you are your own enemy? How do you quiet the voice of fear, doubt and disbelief… especially when it’s so loud that its soundless screams drown out any positive thought?

I don’t know the answer to this riddle. Right now, I choose to continue to work towards my dreams with the cacophony of fearful and doubtful words as my companion. The work is slow as I am regularly derailed by the fear, but then I pull myself off the floor, dust myself off, and get back to work.

To believe in the worth of your work – to believe in the worth of yourself – is a constant battle for many people. And that’s why I write these blog entries. It is in finding our worth and sharing ourselves that this world will blossom. The battle is worth fighting for when you win, your victory will touch everyone around you, bringing light and hope to others still deep in the journey.

The Serendipity of Lice

Yes, you read that correct: lice. I am grateful for lice.

I’m sure many people have many different reasons to be grateful for lice, but let me explain mine. My five-year-old son brought home lice at the end of his Pre-K year. I have two small children, so I had no delusions; I knew that lice would eventually show up in my life. And so they did that fateful day last year just as summer began.

Lice are probably one of the ugliest, nastiest, creepiest looking bugs on the planet. I knew we had lice, but I hadn’t accepted it yet. My head had been itching, and I had seen my son scratching his head, but I refused to admit anything. I was terrified of lice. Then the morning came when my son actually said out loud, “My head itches.” I had to look.

And there, crawling all over his head, was a terrible infestation of lice. Since I had let myself live in denial for so long, there were quite a few full-sized adults hatched and living in his hair.

I freaked out.

I properly freaked out.

Poisons terrify me, so the lice shampoos and prescriptions were not a choice. There was only one choice: shave our heads. No poison involved and lice killed instantly.

After my husband shaved our son’s head (my husband is mostly bald and has been shaving his head for years, so he had all the equipment and knowledge necessary for this operation), I told my husband to shave my head. He said, “Are you sure? You’re going to regret it.” But I had seen the lice fall into the sink as he shaved our son’s head, and I had seen the remaining lice crawling around his little bald head until my husband washed his scalp and removed all remaining lice. They were awful. It made my stomach turn. I said, “Just shave my head! Get rid of the lice!”

So my husband shaved my head. And I was bald. Any pretenses of beauty or femininity I may have had fell into the sink and washed away with the lice and my hair. As I looked at my bald reflection, I was mortified, frightened and really really sad. But the lice were gone.

Now, I had to go outside. I told my husband that if I didn’t go outside that day, I would spend the next month frightened and holed up in the house, waiting for my hair to grow back. So, being the wonderful man he is, he held my hand and we all went out as a family for a meal and a movie.

I hated it. I knew people were staring at me just as I would stare at someone with a mohawk or bright pink hair. I stood out and not in a pretty way. I looked weird. I hadn’t been that crushingly self-conscious since I was a teenager.

And each day, with my bald head, I went out and did my errands. And each day, I hated it.

But in the end, the overall experience was liberating and exhilarating. I had to face fear and embarrassment every day for a month or two until my hair started growing back. And the fear and embarrassment didn’t stop me from living or being or even being awesome. And I learned, in a very intimate manner, two very valuable lessons:

1)    Our looks do not make us amazing. Looks are incidental to our behavior, and behavior is what makes someone amazing.

2)    I can face fear. Bravery is not absence of fear; it’s acting in spite of fear. So even though I’m afraid, I can still make my feet move forward and go through the actions and make my will happen.

After my lice-induced baldness, I had the courage to face another fear. I’m 44 years old, and I’ve always wanted to learn violin. But I felt foolish walking into the lessons surrounded by all of the 8-year-olds and 10-year-olds who are also taking beginner violin lessons. I felt foolish and embarrassed.

But with my bald head, I had acted in spite of fear and embarrassment, and I now had the experience tucked under my belt. So I picked up my violin, and even though my face was bright red with embarrassment, I started taking lessons at 44 years old, the only adult among a sea of little kids. It was embarrassing, and it’s still embarrassing as I go to my lesson every week. But I act in spite of my embarrassment and I’m finally learning the violin.

So I’m thankful for the lice and I’m thankful for the bald head. It was not a fun experience, but it was an amazing experience.

bald

(Crossposted to: Life with Science)