One year in my dreaded life.
When I was a little girl I saw a woman with dreadlocks out in public. I immediately wanted to know her. I felt she must have a story and I wanted to know about it. Still to this day, I remember what that woman looked like vividly. Her hair was long and bunched into knotted mattes, creating a beautiful display of chaos that felt both painful and full of feeling and story.
The weeks after losing my son I felt the same as that woman looked. Everything felt chaotic and messy. My emotions felt like her hair, full of tight knots and clumps of tangled pain.
The months after my son died the daily tasks of living life felt wrong and frivolous. The ache in my heart magnified every morning as I blow dried and styled my hair. I felt like a phoney. How could I look so put together when my heart felt out of place, destroyed, messy, jumbled?
I needed my outward appearance to match the way my insides felt. I needed the people around me to see the torment I was living. I needed the world to see the pain I was enduring. I had a burning desire to showcase my grief openly, visibly. The invisibility of grief was too much for me to bear.
One morning while I was going through the motions of preparing for the day, an image of the woman I saw so long ago entered my mind. I thought about her heart. I wondered about her story and the events that lead her to dreading her hair. I wondered if she had experienced loss like I had, or if she expressed joy, or pain, or love, or hope through her hair. I imagined meeting her. I pictured her with a kind smile and a sweet voice. I imagined her sharing her journey of her life and pretended to listen to her reasons for displaying her pain through her hair.
I prayed to God, I felt so scared. I asked the Lord if I was depressed. I explained to myself and to my Heavenly Father that I didn't want to look “put together” while I felt like I was falling apart. I explained that my heart was shattered and the task of preparing for the day was joyless, hard, and unimportant.
I heard God speak into my soul. He encouraged me to dread my hair. He told me this was from a place of healing and something I needed to do.
I spent a full week twisting and matting my hair into clumps of tangles. I sectioned my hair carefully and while I pulled each section into clusters I thought about memories of my son. With each twist and pull I set intentions for my new life as a bereaved mother. As I weaved my hair into itself I chose hope, and light over darkness and despair. Over the week long process of entangling my hair I felt the heaviness of my grief morph into a feeling more like a weighted blanket, still there, still heavy, but more comforting than restricting. Each knot, each lock, felt freeing.
I wore my dreads for thirteen months. The first few months were trying. My hair's natural tendency is to be soft and limp. I had to work hard to keep the dreads knotted to allow them to lock into place. Each day I spent time rolling and locking my dreadlocks. Every minute I spent re-twisting the mattes of hair I felt free. The messiness of my hair felt like a perfect representation of my heart. I had to spend time with my hair, forming it into the organized chaos of twists and mattes, just like I had to spend time organizing my emotions and the chaos of the broken pieces of my heart. I no longer felt foreign in my own appearance. I felt like when people saw me they understood on some level that I was going through something, working towards something.
It is often said that dreadlocks are a journey, when they are new they are called “baby dreads”. They require constant work, lots of encouragement to form and lock into solid dreadlocks. That parallels beautifully to the early stages of grief. My dreadlocks were paramount to my processing and healing during my new journey of grief. After wearing my dreads I learned that many cultures believe that dreaded hair signifies spiritual growth and many people of many different faiths will dread their hair during life transformations and during times of extreme grief. It was amazing to me that I felt so driven to knot my hair for the exact reasons so many others, all over the world have done.
After a few months my dreads locked into place. Their wispy appearance gave way to more solid mattes of hair. They felt less wild and became more stable and less hollow. They required less and less work and got to the point where I could wash them and let them be. I was able to neglect my hair for days at a time and only worked on them when I chose. This aligned right along with my journey of healing from the sudden loss of my son. I was no longer in a space of constant grief, I was able to visit the painful parts of my heart when I felt the need, but was no longer in a continual assault of torment. Just like with my dreads, I was no longer required to continually face my grief, I found myself able to take small breaths and work on healing. The broken pieces of my heart had found their new place and were solidifying into its new shape.
I decided to comb my dreads out just after the year mark. The once freeing locks of hair began to feel oppressive and hindering. I felt the weight of my grief begin to overwhelm me through my hair. I realized I was holding onto emotions and intentions that were no longer helpful to my life. The process of combing my dreads out was just as therapeutic as installing them. With each hair that broke free of the knots I felt hope reentering my soul and a new wave of peace flow over me.
I am shocked at how spiritual and impactful my hairstyle has been to me. Before my dreads, I had never had an attachment to my hair and have enjoyed trying new cuts, colors, and styles throughout my life. This process of dreading and combing out my hair has shocked me with the spiritual journey it has allowed me.
Having my dreadlocks was the best thing I could have done for my journey of new grief and finding hope and purpose in my life of bereavement. It has allowed me to appreciate the hard work it takes to become healthy after experiencing trauma and brokenness. My dreadlocks served me well and taught me what it's like to work hard for something that doesn't fit in line with the world’s idea of beauty. It allowed me to see beauty in something that is traditionally ugly. It allowed me to see organization in a place that feels chaotic and full of turmoil. My dreads taught me that doing the hard work of healing doesn’t always look like what you think it will. The process of installing and removing my dreads brought me peace in a way I never thought possible and has taught me to look at things I normally would find unappealing and find the joy, the hope, and the growth laced throughout even the hardest of things.
I did just keep one little dreadie… just for me to remember my sweet dreaded journey.