The Cathartic Cut

Call it an identity crisis, Brittany in '07, a full mental break if you will; but this past weekend I chose to chop my hair in a monumental sacrilegious self-endeavor to moving towards who I am, or want to be.

For years, my hair has been the very center of my identity. It has seen many styles, and an almost concerning palette of varying colors. But for years, my hair was the one tangible piece of me that has been through all of the trauma, all of the sickness, all of the setbacks. It has had the hands of men entangled in it with bitterness and vengeance, likewise, it has had the very fingers at the end of my own arms entangled in it, pulling at the roots begging the universe for answers screaming into the wind.

On average, a healthy, adult woman's hair grows approximately 6 inches per year. From experience, and other factors, I can attest that mine, certainly does not grow that fast at all. I've been growing my hair for the last nearly 4 years to get it to where it was. Those who know me, know the last 4 years have been a tumultuous and trialing time in my life, but the last year and a half have been exceptionally challenging. They've delivered me in bounty pain, grief, change, loss, gain and so much change. Not all of this is bad, but there has definitely been plenty of that. When I cut my hair this past weekend, I cut roughly 8 inches of dead, pitiful hair and watched as it fell to the floor. When I tell you this was an entirely cathartic experience, that is hugely underplaying it.

I felt like for me personally, to be able to let go of just one more piece of my past, and start with a cleaner slate, I was just that much closer to who I want to be. It is with the highest hopes that the next few inches of hair growth will be fostered with happiness, health and positivity. I knew going in, if I absolutely hated it, I could go to a salon or worst case scenario it would eventually grow out but ultimately it was a choice and a moment that I needed to have all on my own.

As I made the first cut I thought to myself, “is this crazy, have I reached my rock bottom?” Fair questions, maybe I am, maybe I did, who knows. But as I began to make the second cut I took the time and spoke to myself. I realized that I hadn’t bottomed out, I had plateaued… arguable worse. I stopped giving my body and my mind the love it not only needed but deserved. The destruction that had happened to my mind, my heart and every part of me, I was no better than if I was continuing the cycle. The pain became too comfortable, self loath became an oasis and I was drowning. The self righteous chip I carried around, that I was a survivor and my pity was eternal, it needed to be destroyed. I promised myself in that moment that I would be putting more into my own cup, trying harder for ME, doing better for ME. I HAD to do something different. As the second cut of hair fell to the floor, I felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I took a deep breath, and ran my fingers through my new hair with care, dignity and pride.

For anyone considering cutting their hair or changing their appearance, don’t do it to “appease the toxic gods” or whatever it is I used to say, do it for you. Face your fears and do something dramatic, it might just be the craziest, most cathartic decision you make, and it’s all up from there pal!

Until next time, I’m still a little out of touch, and a little out of line; but now, I have a little less hair and negative energy holding on to me, so that’s something right?

Xx, Laur