I’m not big on selfies, mostly for insecurity reasons, which I guess makes me just as vain as the over-selfie-ers…
Whatever.
But you guys, I got my hairs cut and colored, and I shared this raw, unedited, #nofilter pic –
Along with these words…
Got my hairs done…
You guys, I’m just not ready to grow old gracefully.
I feel like I’m just now growing into myself, if that makes any sense.Just call me a late bloomer. I’m OK with that. Better late than never, right?!
I’ve always loved color, and I’ve always loved red, so I’m going with it, and loving it!
And can I just say that I’m loving the sense of freedom that goes along with it?
That last line? That freedom that I feel like I’ve barely begun to taste these past few years?
It’s so good, y’all.
And some days it’s scary.
You guys, I really like my haircut. I love the peekaboo streaks of red. I love the modern, even edgy, style.
It makes me smile. It makes me feel good.
It makes me feel good about myself.
There, I said it. The word the critics (the loudest of which keeps getting inside my own head no matter how many times I beat her off with a stick) were waiting for. The word so many in the ultra-conservative christian circles, in which I spent so many years circling, seem to lay in wait to pounce on. I know they do, because I used to do it too…
Self.
Myself.
Yep. Rocking a sassy haircut, at 44 years old young, makes me feel good about myself.
It makes me feel like I can face the world and not feel like I look like death warmed over.
You may think I’m being dramatic, but until you’ve seen me first thing in the morning, beyond sleep-deprived, with drab, lifeless, graying hair that makes me cry the ugly cry of a woman who’s feeling like she woke up one day and realized she forgot to actually live her life, until you’ve actually seen that, well, you can just keep your opinions to yourself.
Maybe it is a mid-life crisis.
I don’t even care.
All I know is that feeling good feels good.
Self-care, is not entirely selfish.
It’s. Just. Not.
Taking care of myself, doing something for myself that makes me feel good about myself, does not make me a bad person. And it doesn’t make me a bad christian. It doesn’t even make me selfish.
Somebody just cringed. Somebody in my old circles, or in other such minded circles, just shook their head, rolled their eyes, maybe even let out a sneering little laugh. That laugh that people use when they know so much more than someone else…
Myself. Yourself. Herself. Self, self, self…
You can’t be self-centered and God-centered at the same time.
TRUE.
And who said anything about being self-centered?
Who said anything about centering on self? Being all about self? Being focused only on self?
I sure didn’t.
In fact, feeling good about myself, at least for a few moments, because of something so simple as a good haircut (and color, ha!), makes me happy, and in that happiness I am so thankful. Thankful to God! Thankful to my Jesus! Thankful that He cares enough about little old me to lead me to my new best friend/stylist. (She totally gets me!) So incredibly thankful that He has provided just barely more than enough so that I can enjoy such a luxury as a cute haircut and some color to keep the grays at bay…
Acknowledging myself, taking care of myself, feeling good enough about myself to stand up straight and hold my head up high, can and has actually set me free to love Him and let myself be loved by Him SO MUCH MORE THAN I EVEN KNEW HOW to while locked away in my cage of insecurities and self-doubts and fears of what others thought, especially within the church…
I never meant for this post to get so long or so deep. I didn’t mean to wax philosophical about a haircut and other people’s possible interpretations of my standing with God.
But, you guys, I was scared to share that picture.
I’m scared, right now, typing this post.
(Scared of what?? I’m scared of what they will think. I’m scared of what they will say. Yep, it’s pathetic. I’m 44 yrs old and I still worry about what so-and-so will think. Oh, Lord, help me teach my kids to be stronger than me!)
And I feel slightly schizophrenic, the arguments going back and forth in my mind between feeling G-R-E-A-T and feeling like I should probably repent of ever drawing any attention to myself…
I didn’t share that pic to get a bunch of pats on the back.
(But HUGE THANK YOUS to every last one of you amazing and supportive sweet friends! Your enthusiastic words of encouragement have been a soothing balm to my wearied soul. Thank you for loving on me. I hope I can be a voice of love in your life as well!)
I didn’t share that pic for attention on social media, for the dopamine hit that comes with every like on Facebook and Instagram…
I shared that pic, because JOY, Y’ALL!
I shared that pic, because FREEDOM, Y’ALL!
I shared that pic because I am daring to embrace this life, daring to embrace who I am (a girl who loves funky hair!), and yes, that includes who I am in Christ!
I shared that pic, because I love my haircut, y’all!
I shared that pic, because I found a simple joy that makes me feel human again!
I haven’t slept more than a few hours at a time for over 11 months…
It’s early March, in Minnesota, which mean the tail end of yet another Longest Winter…
Life is hard…
And I struggle…
But today I’m smiling.
Because I got my hairs cut.
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