I am intrigued with the concept of dress as therapy or escape.
When I was a teenager, I grew my hair long (which was the style in the late 60's and early 70's). This was in direct violation of my father's wishes. Now, one might suppose that I did this for the purpose of rebellion. Unfortunately, the concept of doing something for the sake of rebellion never entered my psyche until I was 40 years old. I'll get to that further on.
No, the long hair was not rebellion, it was escape for me. You see, I had grown up a fat child, in the country with no brothers or sisters close to my age. My youngest sister was fourteen years older than I. I was not allowed to even cross the street to play with the neighbor children, and heaven forbid that I ever went to town to play with schoolmates! Therefore, I grew up quite, shall we say, socially inept. I was teased by my schoolmates unmercifully, and had few friends, and as Rodney Dangerfield always said, I got no respect.
When puberty and my teen years hit, I saw the other boys growing their hair long. Ha! I found a way to fit in. I began combing my hair behind my ears to hide the fact that my hair was growing longer (who did I think I was fooling??). Then, one glorious day, I pulled the hair over my ears, and I had become part of the group.
Oh blessed escape from being an outcast! Blessed escape to the "in" crowd. Growing my hair long was the first step for me in my self-awareness -- knowing that I could have control over my own destiny and I could build my own future.
Well, that was the first step in a staircase of steps which I must trod to know who I am and what I am about.
When I was 40 years old, I felt that I was having to cowtow to everyone but me. I had to obey my boss, my church leaders, and if I wanted to please my wife, my God, and my other relatives, I had to conform to certain modes of conduct. I felt corralled. I felt resentful. There were other things which I felt, as well, which I will not address in this venue.
Again, I sought to escape, but I did not desire to do it in a destructive way, so I went and got my ear pierced. It was freedom! I had broken loose! I was my own master! I felt good about myself. This did not please my wife, it caused people in church to look at me strangely, and at first, I was quite self-conscious. This all faded as time went on.
I don't wear an earring a lot, anymore, but sometimes, it gives me a bit of a boost to wear it. I use it when I'm not feeling in control, or when I feel that I am not sexually desireable, or when I don't feel like I have a lot of confidence in myself. Wearing it always seems to make me feel more masculine, and more confident. I believe that it is the idea that I choose to wear it, despite the fact that someone else wants me to. It has become, to me, a symbol of my own strength, virility and potency as a human being and an adult. I am reminded, somewhat, of the story of Samson in the Old Testament, and how his hair symbolized his strength.
Well, I'm still growing, even at 48, and still learning, and maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll outgrow the psychological need for this symbol of my adulthood.
