I have been whining for a while about my hair. It’s at an awkward “shaggy-pixie” stage. I can’t decide if I want to cut it or grow it out.
Hair is a powerful thing. Cutting off fourteen inches my hair, as a recent survivor of sexual violence, was a powerful thing. The memory of my long full curly hair is also a powerful thing.
I play with it in the mirror. I talk about it a lot. Probably way too much. To those around me, I apologize for the amount of time I have been spent complaining about my bushy sideburns and my long bangs and my flat head.
Last night I decided to stop the madness and just get a cut. I went online and looked at lots of google images. I emailed myself some.
This morning I woke up and was rushing for an appointment. As I was packing my backpack, I found one of my favorite headbands at the bottom. I yanked it out and tied it around my head, sideburns and bangs tucked under the headband.
And suddenly, I could see. I don’t mean a spiritual seeing, a clarity of purpose. I mean i could actually SEE, with my physical eyes. I hadn’t realized that my bangs had literally been blocking the tops of my eyes, obstructing my vision. Not only could I see, I could be seen. I smiled seeing my whole face in the mirror, not blocked by bushels of hair on either side.
Perhaps I have been hiding. And then became restless. Perhaps I am ready to see. Perhaps I am ready to be seen again.