Why I Went Blue

So – the big question (especially for my Mom and Grandma) is WHY? WHY BLUE?

Since I was old enough to dye my own hair (age 14), I’ve been dying it for more than just reasons of beauty. My hair is an expression of where I am, what is going on, what I am feeling on the inside. When I go through trauma, I dye my hair. When I’m happy, I dye my hair. When my heart is broken, I dye my hair.

Going back to this whole ‘rebirthing’ process – I am in the process of reconnecting to the essence of who I am. I am acknowledging the artist, the bohemian – the girl who sketched and wrote poetry. I always wanted to do something like this, but growing up I was fearful of others’ reactions. And, it’s only been 5 years since I left a religion that left me feeling in bondage, drained and dried up.  I allowed a group of people to rob me of self and force myself into conforming – no makeup, not cutting hair, no elbows or knees showing – it became too much. It started out wonderful. I think some people can really enjoy their life living that way. But not me. I also think some people have become more about the outside, the standards of modesty and squeeze every bit of joy out of living.

So – I decided to dye my hair blue. To honor the artist in me. To do that one thing I never had the courage to do but secretly wanted. Yes, I’ve had odd hair colors before, but it was usually an accident. Heck – it was always an accident. This time it is on purpose. I don’t want to come to my death bed wishing I had been more courageous, wishing I had allowed myself to have more experiences.

I might – in a month or two or more – decide this one time is all I needed. I might not. But – I can say I did it. And I can be content with my choice.