Pep Talk to Myself

I'm part of the .01% of people who have their hair fall out from epilepsy medication. Sure I could switch meds (if I could see a dr soon, which I can't), but I'm NOT GOING through that again. Part of the reason is because  I can't take the chance that this will launch me backwards to where I was before I started taking this stuff, a place where I was too confused to be able to write, to be able to understand, to be able to see my path clearly, and I"M NOT GOING BACK. I won't take that chance, because I have no idea if I'll be able to dig myself back out of that brain fog to tell the doctors what I need. They certainly don't know from looking at me.

Tomorrow I have an appointment to get my haircut. After I checked what we have left in our account, I told Mike I'd cancel the appointment, because I shouldn't get a haircut right now. He insists I go, because he's a good one. So the plan is to have the hair I have left cut off and given to locks of love. It's still a lot of hair, and still healthy enough for them to use for people who care if they have hair, for those who it still means a lot to them to have it. 

For me, I don't care about hair anymore. I'm so much more than hair. If anything, it might be a relief. The other bonus is that I could get a Dolly Parton wig, or a teal bob, or any number of hats and hairstyles. I could be a drag queen, if I want. I could be trash. Dolly famously said that once she had seen a woman in Pigeon Forge that her mama called trash, she decided there and then that that was all she ever wanted to be. I'm with her.

What's hair mean to me anyway? Every time I've fallen down, I've stood back up smiling. I've high fived myself when there was nobody there to give me one. I'll always give myself one. My friend told me one day, "If you don't high five yourself, who will?" She said that on the day she was getting married, and I know in my heart that she found someone to walk next to her who will always give her a high five, and it's comforting for me to know that she's always going to get the high fives she deserves.

I found my high five partner too. I told him my hair is falling out (in chunks) and he didn't miss a beat. "I love you for more than hair." High five. Then I told him that if our lives were to shift into what I'm wanting to make it, we could come across some pretty powerful forces, those which I'm not able to describe here, but people who are utterly ruthless in the pursuit of "staying on top," and I wanted him to understand what we were potentially up against, if our protecting people would put us in jeopardy. He again sniffed and said, "I don't give a fuck." High five.

I grew up with financial wealth, but little love. The people surrounding me were convinced that money was equivalent to security, and all they'd ever wanted was security. I don't blame them, even if it cost me everything. I couldn't get what I needed from people who obsessed over money to the point that they had to "overlook" what was happening to me. To them, it meant their very survival, and it's okay for people to fight for their survival. I pity them. What they'll never understand, insulating themselves with money, is real freedom, real security.

We're down to our last hundred bucks, and I ain't complaining a bit. It's actually confirmation of our real security, our love, our faith. When things hit that down place, we are always given a comeuppance. That comeuppance reaffirms our faith. Last night, it came in the form of Mike getting his first deer of the season. We might be broke as far as all that "fake money" just "Monopoly money" that society has tried to convince us is worth something. Spoiler: it's not. Not when the universe, and God, have your back. That's real security. You give Mother Nature love, and she seeks to protect you, watch over you, give you just the right amount of stuff at just the right moment. Knowing I can rely on her no matter what, as long as I respect her, is true freedom. It's seeing the inner workings of the universe. That's a thing that people who insulate themselves with safes will never understand. More cameras, more extravagant purchases, while others suffer. Then they tell you how religious they are, and you try to keep your eye roll to yourself. Because they forgot to pay you on Friday, the money you earned. But you're grateful at the same time, that you can look out and see for miles, while they're the people living in a fog, on that materialistic treadmill. You watch, as they seek to find affirmation in having more and more and more things, but none of it ever brings them joy. Then you get ONE DEER, and the joy is immeasurable. Here we are, eating like kings, sweet potato fries from a friend who grew them, and a deer from whom you'll have the gift of meat for weeks, if not months, to come. 

And when the fortunes reverse, we'll take comfort in knowing that if we're ever "rich" in that way, that we aim to be Dolly rich, not bougie rich. Dolly rich is when you give and give and give to the right things, in the right ways, and money keeps flying at you. The hand that is open to give, is in fact, open to receive, when you use that resource properly, and see it for what it really is, a resource. It's not security, and for all of those constantly robbing Peter to pay Paul, they'll never know real riches. The riches of the soul, the riches of the spirit, not the ability to put up more security cameras and buy bigger safes. I pity those who can't see that.

One of my greatest teachers told me, "You are Joseph. So prepare yourself to be the king's second hand. Prepare yourself to know a compassion greater than any you've been given, and it's okay to be proud of that. There are things to be proud of." In church, or some churches with misguided ideas about religion, will tell you that pride is wrongful. Sometimes to survive, and reach the promised land of humility, we have to lean on pride a little bit, to get us through, to keep giving ourselves high fives, and that's OK.

When he returned to the barn to hang our deer, he removed the guts and told me of the wondrous magic of putting your hands in the blood. I dunked my hands, and when I noticed they were new again, I dunked my face too. He said, "If anyone saw you right now, they'd think I'd ruin't you." It's the opposite of what people think. People are profoundly confused, next to him. He sees the truth and shows it to me. I revel in it. I'm feral in this freedom. I rub the blood on my face and be damned with anyone who thinks that's crazy. When I washed it off, my face glowed like I'd found truth. I thank the deer for all it's given, a profound sacrifice, and I long to give as good as this deer.