At the same time, it's also a bit nerve-wrecking. Bryan and I both have student loan debt and so though we aren't poor, we certainly do not feel like we have the freedom to spend our money however, wherever and whenever we want. We make extremely calculated decisions about money and even then, when it's time to commit a large sum of money to somewhere other than debt, we get anxious.
Is this a good decision? What if something unpredictable happens and we need this money later? Are we being poor stewards? Is it worth it? What about all of the people living in our world without a place to call home? Is it necessary for us to have new floors, really?
I think these are all good questions and I certainly go back and forth and feel quite a bit of ambivalence in the midst of the face lift but usually, once all is said and done, I'm really grateful for the change, the growth, and the obvious markings that we're growing up.
I think this directly relates with how I am feeling about my own Self at this point. I am coming off of this freedom high and I'm feeling profoundly grateful. I am also feeling a very strong urge to mark this chapter in a very significant way. I want to start fresh. I want to replace the old foundation with a stronger, free-er one. I want to discard the excess and freshen up the timeless, significant pieces that were previously buried. I want my outside to reflect the freedom that I feel (and hope to keep feeling) on the inside!
I'm a bit too noncommittal to go the tattoo route at this point so the closest other marker I can think of is to cut my hair. I want a new look.
For many people, a hair cut is just not that big of a deal. It's impermanent. It always grows back. No big deal. After all, it's just dead minerals, right?
Well, sort of. Except that for me, my hair has always been so much more. In a large way my hair has been a significant part of my identity (partly by overt choice) and an avenue for self-expression. Growing up I was "the girl with the long blonde hair" (people-pleasing). Then I became "the girl who used to have long hair and then she cut it off" (boundary-questioning). And then "the girl who had the blonde hair but then dyed it black" (middle-finger flaunting). Then "the girl with the dreads" (growth embracing). And then "the girl with the blonde, blue, and black hair" (self-exploring).
Today, my hair is anything but note-worthy or noticeable but I still think it's a way that I like to air out what's going on inside. My hair is pretty normal and boring. Nothing extravagant or edgy. Just straight, dark blonde, medium length boring, safe hair. This was fine for awhile because I was a new mom who was devoting all of her time and energy on a baby. My identity became "mommy" and I chose to put my hair-assessing, self-expressing self aside. I think this was fine and there was a time and place for it. However, now, it feels evident that this is no longer the time or place:
I need a hair-lift.
But, just like with face-lifting the house, I feel huge buckets of ambivalence about cutting my hair. What if I hate it? What if it takes longer to style? OMG- what if I have to blow-dry-it-every-single-day? (Nightmare!) What if I look 12? What if I look like a boy? What if Bryan hates it? (Truly, not gonna happen.) What if my mom hates it? (Might happen but should I care as much as I do?) What if I miss having a pony tail (my life line some mornings)? What if I regret cutting it? What if? What if? What if?
.............
What if I remember that it's just hair? What if I remember that my hair does not actually define me? What if I remember that I am more than my hair?
Thank God my life is not defined by dead minerals.
And it is impermanent and it will grow back. My hair can be an avenue through which I choose to express myself and a window through which I can air out my insides but it certainly does not name me, claim me, or change me. It is just hair.
I suppose if I remember all that, this time next week, I might be writing with a new 'd0! :) Stay tuned...
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