Saying goodbye to 7 inches of baggage

No this isn't a post about my ex husband. Although I'm sure that there was a bit of him in the massive suitcase I threw overboard. No, I didn't go all Aileen Wuornos, this post just happened to start with a giant metaphor.

I cut my hair. 8 years and almost 7 inches gone. And it feels MAGNIFICENT!

I always thought "mom hair" was when women cut all their hair off because they couldn't be bothered to take care of it or their kids were yanking on it too much. While I'm sure there are women who relate to that. "Mom hair" for me was not the short hair cut but the hair before the cut; I had been living in braids for weeks. One morning while I was attempting to untangle the straw like texture, in a shower longer than a teenage boy's, I looked down at the pile of hair on the shower floor and decided it was time to say goodbye.

This was a BIG deal. At least I thought it would be, to the point that I asked friends how short I should go. It was thanks to one comment a friend made that turned what could have been a sad, vain moment into an incredibly uplifting and releasing one. She told me, "Move with your spirit sista! Transformation within = transformation without. Besides, hair always grows back, so there's no real danger here...just thrill!"

So I decided while I sat at Luce with my conditioning treatment on, I would have a little pow wow with my spirit self. And deep down I knew I wanted it short (ish) but I was still scared to go above my shoulders. Still scared to let go. So I told my stylist Chris (AMAZING at cutting curly hair btw) that I was trying to embrace what my spirit needed but to keep as much length as possible.

My hair was such a mess that he ended up having to snip sections of it just to get it untangled and ended up cutting it the perfect length. When I looked in the mirror the pieces around my face still touched my shoulders and the long pieces in the back still came between my shoulder blades. I left happy.

And then it dried.

Curly hair, remember? So I ended up with the short (ish) style my spirit wanted all along but that I was too afraid to ask for, Chris being the clever (and sneaky) guy he is.

I decided through the cut that the 7 inches of hair would represent baggage I had been holding on to. Released was my fear. Released was the attachment to my old self; my hair had become the thing by which people identified me. I no longer have my hair as my safety net, or as a curtain to hide behind. I'm free of the past. I'm embracing the unknown and trusting in my spirit. 

 (I'm actually thinking next time another inch or two might be a lot of fun!)