Allison Howard – Walking heart

I hate brushing my daughters hair. Not because it’s a hassle or I don’t know what to do. I hate brushing her hair because of the complaining tantrums and crying that goes along with it. Depending on my own state of mind, this activity could be considered from eyerollingly annoying, to teeth clenchingly frustrating, and if I am running late in the morning I have no words to describe the contained anger I can hold inside my body. On some days, if you held a Geiger counter to my forehead, it would pin the needle in 2 seconds flat.

I am sure I am not the only parent that goes through these emotions every morning, but just lately I have started thinking about how my own hair was brushed as a child. I remember my mother brushing my hair with pure grit, determination and the occasional discipline. But I tell you now, I went to school on time, with my hair neat and pulled back, flush with the line of my scalp. In short, Mum was efficient in her hair brushing technique. Now, looking at my own parenting journey, I have decided to take a different tact from the one that was implemented on me, and as I watch my little girl run late into class with her hair like a witches broom and able to blink, I have started thinking about this self discovery path I have found myself on. 

So what is this journey? An existential questioning? or a midlife crisis? Take your pick really. There were several catalysts for why I have come to explore my own mind and emotions. But basically I feel everyone has to start to question who they are, how they came to be, and explore whether or not they like what is happening. Then in turn acknowledging these discovered findings and figuring a new way forward.

So how do you come about these questions? Well they have always been there, it’s just most people tend not to look for them, until they are forced to. This force usually comes from an outward source, ie: Job loss, relationship demise, death of a loved one, or a health scare, anything that snaps your head out of the monotony of your previous life’s journey. 

I came across these questions simply by tripping over them, mine was specifically recognising that I had faced a series of friendship failures through my life, all of which have ended in emotionally painful ways, and seemingly out of the blue. However I started to notice that all of these happenings had one common denominator, Me. After the last dramatic “End-ship” I started questioning what is it about me that makes me end up in this same situation. And there I was, staring at the equation of who am I + what have I done in my life + where am I now x by what happens next = ? and here is where I started to walk the self healers path. 

What is that? I hear you query. Well self healing is a strange process, it is mostly a solo journey but not isolating, you do find yourself connecting with other people on a similar path, but mostly the main person you find connecting with is yourself and who you are meant/want to be. It can be lonely, but also rewarding, as you finally dig up the core of your soul-being which has been lost in events, opinions, and social structures, that have been built around you, and outside of your own design.  

One interesting thing about this journey is that it is not liner, the past and future have absolutely no relevance on who you are right now. Meaning healing myself in the present has nothing to do with my past because the past can not be changed, and the future, however exciting this illusion may be, has absolutely no bearing on what is happening to your present. You see what has occurred can not be undone, and what may happen mostly likely will never be. So there is nothing any one can do except live solidly in the now. As I study this life puzzle I have found that a blindfold has been lifted and I can see clearly how I managed to get where I am. 

Now, along side my own self work, I have started recognising deep sadness in others, and through this I have been able to connect the sadness that has built my own. So lately I have found myself asking the question; by taking away my own blindfold does that mean I am responsible to untie others around me as well? Do I call out other peoples sadness to find resolution for my own?

You see as I brush my daughters hair and feel myself rapidly getting upset, I recall my childhood pain and confusion of knots being ripped out of my scalp, enduring pain and tears when I hadn’t done anything wrong. This all comes tumbling out when I witness my own daughters distress at the same thing, and now with this I can finally see why my Mother used to get angry at my tears as she pulled the brush through my tangled mess, not only was it hurting me, it was hurting her. 

However, I have taken a different tact to what my mother used to do. Instead of solid perseverance, I have gone a gentler route to almost the point of ridiculousness. I have bought 10 different detangle mists and brushes, and use them all. I also use apologies and cuddles when knots get thicker, and no matter how late I am, I breath into calm and try and move as slowly and gently as I can. Now this isn’t a dig at my mother and her treatment of me, it is purely an observation of which she herself has moved though on her own parenting journey. Let me explain. 

I distinctly remember as a child of about 10 or 11, I was keen to help by putting the groceries away. I put the apples in the bowl on the kitchen bench, the cereal box in the cupboard and then I moved to the flour. I carefully got the bag and started to pour it into the flour tin. As I was emptying the last of the packet on top of the old flour, my mother came into the kitchen and suddenly screamed out “STOP!!!! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?!!!!!!!!!!!” Frozen in panic, I stood still like a rabbit in headlights. As the words from my panicked mothers face held in the air, she paused in mid thought. The pause became longer, and I witnessed my Mums face crumple into an almighty laugh. Still giggling she gently took the flour tin out of my hands, and simply stated “I did that too when I was your age.” 

You see I had put the self-raising flour into the plain flour, (which after this incident, I forever learnt that you can not mix the two together). After the initial shock of witnessing my mistake, Mum kept laughing and as she placed the empty flour packet and full tin on the bench, she looked at me still frozen inside the pantry, and with a gentle smile, Mum assured me that everything was alright and started to retell the story how she had done the exact same thing, however she had gotten into “a lot” of trouble. Then still softly giggling my Mum gave me a cuddle and thanked me for helping her.

I still think of this incident to this day, and feel grateful for Mum choosing a different path, treating the innocent mistake with patients and kindness. And even though I acknowledge that sometimes we are not on the smoothest ride, (what parent – child relationship is?) I want to thank Mum for being easy on me when sometimes it was hard for her.

This is what has inspired my latest drawing titled “Brush in Flour” Pencil, felt pen and water colour on paper with Black and white filter. I was thinking about the concepts above and also how our experiences can connect us but not make us who we are. 

With this illustraiton and the questions pondered above, what I have found as a self healer, is that my path is no where close to ending. That this life long journey is a solo one, which can not be forced. I have also found that you are not resonsible for other peoples journey, only your own blindfold. I have discovered that you alone, are the only one that can look into your own sadness no matter how painful, acknowledge your reactions to this, and seek love and patients within. With all this knowldge, only then, can you change the narrative of your voice, you can make your own choices, based on your own ideas of safety and happiness. In short, it is never to late to learn to brush your own hair. 

I hope everyone is keeping safe and peaceful and also having a great start to September, and experiencing a warm and wonderful spring.