Can we talk about the hair thing? If you know me well, then you know of my love/hate relationship with my hair. I confess that it’s been mostly hate. Cut it off. Grow it out. Permed. Highlighted. Curled. Straightened. Layered. One length. You name it. I seriously considered calling a close friend before my haircut yesterday to ask if I’d ever said, “If I ever tell you I’m going to cut my hair off again, don’t let me do it.” Seriously. While I don’t recall ever making that pronouncement, it’s well within the realm of possibility.
So much mind clutter over this hair of mine. In trying to get to the root of the issue, I reflected on this conundrum. Misperception and false thinking strike again: Not pretty enough. Not feminine enough. Not professional enough. Why can’t my hair be like so-and-so’s hair? Why can’t my hair be <insert ridiculous thought here>? Enough. I also noted a pattern. All the times I’ve chopped my hair off, I was letting go of something I’d been holding onto that definitely had to go. Hmmm.
Then it hit me: God knows every hair on my head. God loves every fiber of my being, even when I continually try to fix some part of me that God created with tender care. Maybe, just maybe, I’m beginning to believe this deep in my heart. Maybe I’ve outgrown my hair. My hair wasn’t the broken part of me at all. My thinking was. Time to let that go.