mayday, mayday

last saturday i got my hair cut. i went in knowing that i wanted my hair to be quite a bit shorter, and i took 2 pictures of myself from years ago when we lived in denver, pictures of when i loved my short hair and before i started all this "trying to grow it out" nonsense.

as i've said, i'm in the process of accepting myself more, accepting who God created me to be, and that even translates to my hair. i'm accepting the fact that i'm a short hair kind of girl (my hair is just happier that way). plus, i feel like i'm entering into a whole new season, a combination of some inner healing and our upcoming move to virginia. so i wanted a bold statement, a transformation of my "look" to symbolize the inner transformation i feel taking place.

and bold is what i got. unfortunately, i wasn't planning on being quite that bold. my trusty hair stylist interpreted my pictures in a different way than i was expecting and cut my hair very, very short. when i realized how much she cut off, i started the downward spiral into panic. i called winn on the way home to prepare him that i was totally spinning out of control, all the while doing my deep breathing exercises in a futile attempt to calm the growing anxiety. i frantically tried to figure out a way to hide out for a week or two so that my hair could grow at least a tiny bit before i had to show myself in public. to no avail. the next day was sunday, and i was scheduled to participate in the church service, which meant i had to get up in front of EVERYONE. oh dear God, what was i to do?

what could i do? nothing, really. you know the saying "there's no use crying over spilt milk"? well, the same thing applies here. i felt helpless and trapped and so very exposed.

what is it about us women and our hair? what exactly does it symbolize for us? i've been puzzled about this because i've realized yet again (in the midst of what i can only describe as trauma) the deep and powerful meaning it holds for us as women, or at least for me and every single woman i've ever talked to.

it represents, i think, our beauty and how we feel about ourselves. john eldredge once wrote that every woman is in some way either searching for or running from her beauty. i think i do both. i'm constantly searching for physical beauty--trying to find just the right hairstyle, keeping up with my workout plan, looking for the latest skin cream or that perfect pair of jeans, etc., while simultaneously denying my inner beauty. much of the time, i don't really believe any inner beauty exists, which is why i spend so much time trying to fool the world with some semblance of the outward.

if i can charm or distract you with some kind of beauty on the outside, then maybe, just maybe you won't look any deeper to find that it is all an illusion. i'll keep rejection at bay.

this is the heart of why The Haircut Gone Awry was so traumatic. my intense reaction was connected to those deep, hidden feelings that at my core i am ugly and undesirable.

i spent far too much emotional energy and time completely freaking out on saturday. i was in crisis--as usual an identity crisis (this is my specialty). what eventually helped, after praying repeatedly that God would make my hair grow overnight ("i know you can do this sort of thing, God!") and realizing that this is not how God usually works in my life, was looking up to Jesus and listening to him, instead of to my own diseased inner dialogue.

i can't say that i really heard anything; i didn't get that "healing word" that made it all better. but being in His presence was healing, in a very quiet way. i had the sense that He was smiling at me, slightly amused at all my needless turmoil. and i was reminded of when He has spoken to me those healing words, when He has told me who i am, and that my identity has nothing at all to do with how long or short my hair is.

so, i woke up sunday morning, looked in the mirror and shrugged. i am becoming a bit more reconciled to the new look, and find that at some angles and in a certain light, my hair is actually kind of cute.